The Barking Shoulder

Baseball language.  You gotta love it.  Today’s game featured a description of a player whose shoulder had been “barking” at him last year, graveling his performance.   It also sounds like the name of a …pub? a bar? a bakery? or a bodywork office? (n.b., hands on bodywork.  I once made a Very Serious Tattooed & Hairnetted Guy laugh til he got hiccups because I asked him what he did, he said “bodywork”, and I said, O! I do too! Of course we looked at each other like ARE YOU CRAZY? and then it was revealed that he did Awesome Bondo with Awesome Painting and he had no idea what I did but said it sounded like a good idea.)  Anyway, a barking shoulder is something to be listened to, Gentle Reader.

Meanwhile, just a brief entry on all the Fun we’ve been having lately.   After doing an apparently intense bunch of divining and mixing of products, I found that literally everything I touched gave me a shock.  Everything.  Pencils.  Paper.  Bath towels.  Car door? Holy cow.  It was audible too: I was in the grocery store parking lot trying to get into my car without curling my hair, there was the inevitable “ZZZZZZZZZTTTTT” and the man getting out of his car next to me said: What the H. was THAT?  Oh, I said, nothing, then mistakenly touching an earring and producing another such noise, plus, this time, an OW.  Today is the first day for several days where I have been shock free, and it is very nice.

Otherwise, we’re still pondering the incredible absence of customer service.  I thought I needed to get my computer modem/router/thingy re-somethinged because my internet wasn’t working. At all.  Compressing an hour and some change on the phone into but a few seconds?  The people I get my internet from couldn’t help me, of course, because I “own” this …thing.  It’s YOUR modem?, they said, in hushed tones dripping with horror.  Oh, dear.  We really can’t help you.  You have to call the maker of the modem, here’s the number.  Of course the fact that the number I got was for some effing ESCORT SERVICE is beside the point.  I can look things up as well as the next person.  However, after getting the right number, the fun really began and I will name names here, friends.  Linksys has people with the reasoning ability of burlap bags on some of the phone lines for their customer service.   That (whatever it is) couldn’t possibly do [x], this Customer Service Rep said.  Oh? I said.  Then why has it been doing just that for the past 18 months?  The guy at [ISP] said the numbers for [whatever it was] probably got disturbed in a power surge and need to be reset to work with my system.  (I swear! I didn’t touch it during my own Electrical Problem.) Well, it can’t have been doing it, was the response.  You must be getting your service off another [something or other].  How many computers do you have at your location? Etc.  Finally when I could take it no longer and said, look, here is the situation, this is what ISP said, can you or can you not help me?  He referred me to a website, where, he assured me, I could find out more about my modem/router/whatever.  Of course it had a serial number he couldn’t comprehend but I expected THAT.  That always happens.  Anyway, the website, delightfully, was like a modem shopping mall.  This was after I had gone through gyrations to even GET on line..etc.  End of story? The Partner wandered in and with a minimum of waving me off, cross words (him.  Imagine calling a bunch of cords a RAT’S NEST!)  and shouting (me. sigh.) fixed the entire thing.  See how easy.

Which leads me, in conclusion, to a reminder from the Partner.  He reads my blog, just to make sure…you know…and he read the birthday one.  Dude, he said, that’s pretty deep for a birthday!  You didn’t even mention your cake! You should’ve said we were eating cake!  He’s right.  I actually meant to take a picture of the cake but it got eaten before I pulled myself together.  We did eat it, it was delicious, we had a great time, and I gave the last piece to my client in the Nursing Facility.  He pronounced it a masterpiece.  All’s well that ends well.

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