And The Winner Is….

It is official. I am nominating the Sears/K-mart conglomerate for worst customer service ever.  I know it was a close toss-up between them and Verizon.   The Popeye’s Chicken on Vann Drive received an honorable mention.

Envision this….

I ordered four decorative throw pillows for my couch about three weeks ago. I can’t go into the gory details, but I really NEEDED those pillows by tomorrow. I realized about mid last week that they were still not here.   So, I started doing some investigative work and found out that they cancelled my order, AND didn’t notify me, AND charged my account anyway.

It took approximately an hour and several frustrating conversations with people named Jerry and Bill who inexplicably had Pakistani accents to even convey to them what the problem was.   Finally, Jerry condescended to allow me to purchase a similar pillow. He also considered it fair to require me to pay the thirty-five dollars in highway robbery that they call expedited shipping.

This led to me speaking to Jerry’s manager, Glenn. After a rather frustrating fifteen minutes during which Glenn forgot how to use her phone (I am not joking), Glenn finally agreed to waive the shipping charge retroactively. This wasted hour of my life and frustrating experience exemplifies the competence of the entire Sears/K-mart corporate. I can certainly understand why Martha Stewart hitched her wagon to this star.

Fast forward to this very afternoon if you will. Remember, for reasons that will not be explained, I NEED these four pillows by tomorrow.   They sent me ONE pillow.   ONE.   It was this encounter that pushed our winners past such fiercely incompetent competitors as Best Buy’s Geek Squad, and the Airlines. Thanks Sears/Kmart! Keep up your commitment to the fine customer service that we have come to know and love and you will start circling that drain at an even swifter speed.

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Well, At Least It’s Protein….

I am daily astounded by the differences and similarities between my babies. Z is precocious. She was an early talker.   She has made shocking speeches from the time she was eleven months old. Most recently, we have been potty training and we spent an eternally long couple of days in the Mythical Big Girl Panties.   It didn’t go well. We had SEVERAL accidents. Finally, Z looked at me and said:

“Mommy, I think my Big Girl Panties are bwoken.”

I said, “Really, Z, what’s going on.”

“They have holes in them. They don’t hold the peepee,” Z replied candidly.

After trying to contain my laughter, I promptly switched her back to pull ups. Clearly she just isn’t ready for this.

Baby Bird only communicates in a string of grunts and pointing and screaming. It is amazingly, just as effective as Z’s soliloquys.

Z is afraid of everything:

  1. Bugs
  2. Going too far from the house
  3. Anything on TV that is not PBS
  4. Airplanes
  5. Trains
  6. The dark
  7. The dining room (for some inexplicable reason)

Baby Bird is fearless.   She crawls headlong into danger. I lost track of her the other day and looked up and she was half way up the stairs oblivious to her impending head injury.   I was trying to get some housework done the other day and I noticed a black spot on her face. I went over to examine what was going on, and found half a bug hanging out of her mouth. She was happily munching on the other wriggly bit. When I removed the half that was accessible, she grunted, pointed and screamed about the loss of her delicious bug.   Moments after that, I found her trying to smash a snow globe into the carpet with both hands trying obtain access to its delicious contents.

And sand…. Where Z would timidly taste a little play sand, making a horrible face and discarding it, Baby Bird got a cup of the stuff and was drinking it like a med student guzzling coffee at two am on the wards.

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I don’t really know what I expected.   I guess I assumed that they would be miniature clones of me. Yet they have their own personalities that I had nothing to do with.   They came out endowed by God as the sweet little individuals I am now responsible for.   I thought they would be a blank slate, but I guess it is more fun un-wrapping the layers that are Baby Bird and Z. It is the most wonderful present I have ever unwrapped.

How Do You NOT know how to Target?

As a working mother, there are a few small pleasures on my day off.  One of these is to don yoga pants and load the kiddos up for a midday trip to Target to commune with my stay at home sisters.  This is my new spa day, replacing what actually used to be a spa day.

I have a specific routine.   We stop by the snack bar for popcorn and a red slushy for the kiddos.  This keeps them placating while I luxuriate in my Target experience.   Then I stop by the dollar bins at the front of the store to see if I can find an awesome Hello Kitty themed bag, or a Frozen puzzle, or how bout some novelty socks.  Awesome, right?  Then I take the cart around the entire perimeter of the store starting in housewares.   Anyone who knows anything about Target is aware that clearance items are placed on the outside perimeter.  Convenient, right?  Then, I venture forth to the wild interior to look for deals on apparel and diapers.

I have a system.  But, the other day I ended up at Target with my husband.  I expressed a desire to look for socks, but he apparently took this way too literally.  He was surprised and astounded when I began my routine.  He kept saying things like, “aren’t we here for socks?” and, “I thought you were looking for socks.”

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Half a cart full later, it suddenly occurred to me that my dear husband has now idea how to Target.   I just found myself shaking my head in disbelief.   How can one reach the ripe age of thirty-seven and not understand how Target works?

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