Wednesday, June 27, 2012

In which other blogs exist, with other Emilys who are also artists, but the fabric of time is safe

Creative Artists Blog

What a nifty little button.
Anyhow, this represents my first real ~*interview*~, which makes me feel all fancy even though I specifically asked if I could do it. Being interviewed by an artist named Emily was rather interesting, though somewhat intimidating -- am I a failed clone? Did our meeting initiate an age-old prophecy that all had hoped was a myth? Evil twin? Good twin? Vampire doppelganger? Regular doppelganger? Bad Wolf? Do I need to cut back on the sci-fi/fantasy for a few weeks?

Ah, well. In other news, here's a wild bird obtaining minerals from a cliff face.
Actually, it's a house sparrow eating a brick wall. They kept coming back to this little worn-out spot. I suppose it looks tasty enough? It's a lovely shade of orange, at least.


Saturday, June 9, 2012

In which I learn that Zappos.com hires professional stalkers

Okay, I get that Zappos is a "fun" store. They're going for a laid-back, we're-you're-buddies vibe. That's cool. I can handle that. Plus, I like the new shoes I got. They're nice shoes.
But here's the question: Just how far can you encourage folks go with customer service before it becomes customer stalking?
My previous post was very long, so you probably didn't read it all the way through. That's okay. I didn't proofread it all the way through either.
But the title is pretty much all you need to read. I tried to exchange shoes. Much, much, much talking was required in order to accomplish this.
So that's the end of it, I think. I made it. I beat the level. I got my shoes. New scenario.
Then I check my mail a few days later.


Zappos.com, says the envelope. Printed, official. Follow-up, I think, them being Powered By Service and all. Thanks for ordering. Sorry you didn't like that first pair of shoes. Glad you found others. Please buy more now. You have store credit. Remember your store credit? You don't have to buy shoes. We have socks and knives and golf clubs.
Something like that, I figured.
Odd, I thought, that Zappos.com hand-writes the recipient's address. That seems sort of time-consuming. Also, they should have scribbled a little first to get the ink flowing.


Then I open it up. THEN I OPEN IT UP.


Is that marker? Is that three colors of marker?!
But it's the doggy stamp, the smiley sticker, and that little foam flower dealio that really give me pause.

 I cannot picture this workplace. Are there big jars of assorted craft supplies sitting next to each desk for this sort of thing? Then I'm picturing everyone working at something resembling the Youth desk at my library, stampers and stickers and toys and temporary tattoos hidden away in every drawer, next to the first-aid kit and behind the file folders. Or did he go home and raid his kids' stash of supplies?
And really, it wouldn't take a privacy nut, not even a privacy enthusiast, to be a little concerned that they are getting handwritten mail to their homes from the customer-service guy. Specifically. Personally. HE KNOWS WHERE I LIVE.
On second thought, maybe this means he knows where I blog as well.
Brian with a giant B, my apologies if you discover this in your efforts to further provide exceptional customer service, and feel offended and/or homicidal. You were psyched about flesh-eating insects, remember. It's fair for me to think of this as mildly weird.

So what say you, gentle reader? Would you be put off or pleased by this exercise in Extreme Customer Service? If I actually *buy* something on my own initiative from this place, will I get balloons? What should I use that store credit for, anyhow? Do they really sell kitchen knives?

Saturday, June 2, 2012

In which I have (and subsequently transcribe) a marathon phone conversation in order to return shoes

You know how sometimes you say "It's a long story" when it's not, but you really just don't feel like telling the story at all?

Sometimes that backfires.

The way it backfired is actually, and somewhat ironically, a rather long story (or at least an incredibly long conversation), which includes my name more times than virtually any conversation I have had in the past, including several I've had that involved at least one other person named Emily.

It seemed straightforward enough ... a bit strange, as situations go, but straightforward.
I inexplicably received some shoes the other day, two pair, one per box, sitting obediently on my doorstep when I returned from work. 

I was quite certain I had not ordered any shoes -- volume 1 of Digger, yes, and season 7 of Buffy that I'd been doing without so long, but nothing remotely resembling shoes. Some asking around finally revealed that they were from an aunt who heard from my mother that I had been looking for shoes and had, as this particular aunt is wont to do, simply ordered up a couple pairs and had them shipped off to me.

The one pair was lovely, the other a bit clomp-y and not quite the proper fit. So, as is fairly often the case and even the expectation with random surprise deliveries such as this from that particular aunt, I decided to go to the website from which the order was made and find an equivalent and more-fitting pair for a swap.

Unlike a simple return, an exchange required calling up Zappos directly. So, a call was placed. A straightforward call. An, "I got these shoes and would like these shoes instead, please, thankyouverymuch bye" sort of call.

The customer-service guy answered with that peppy-puppy sort of tone that, on my less-friendly days, makes me go "uh-oh" and feel a sudden desire run off and hide in an abandoned basement for safety's sake, much like a werewolf on the eve of the full moon who's just been asked to take care of a friend's kitten for the weekend ... or ... um ... I was going somewhere with this.

Here's a fancy bunny to break the upcoming monotony:



Anyhow, you could tell right off it was going to be one of those companies that makes their employees chat up the customers in an effort to seem friendly and welcoming and give us good reviews and tell your friends about us please. Though in this case, store policy only served to enhance the naturally-occurring chattiness.

Me: I'm not sure I pressed the right number, it said "returns" -- I'm calling about a gift exchange?
CS Rep: Uh, um, yeah, I can help you with that, ah, what's your name?
Me: .... Ummmm, Emily; I'm gonna tell you what the situation is here first and then I'll give you whatever the information is you need, okay?
CS Rep: Ah, okay, sure!
Me: [explains situation]
CS Rep: Okay, Emily, so, is this something you want to keep on the down-low from the person who sent it?
Me: ... Um, no, she's fine with me returning stuff.
CS Rep: Okay, just wanted to make sure it's not like, "My mom bought me these and I hate them" or something [knowing, conspiratorial laughter] --
Me: Yeah; no, that's not the case.
CS Rep: Okay! Well Emily, do you have an account with Zappos?
Me: No, no I don't.
CS Rep: Okay, so I'm gonna start by setting up an account for you.
Me: [started searching for the "Register" button shortly after his previous question] Uh, I can start an account on my own if you like.
CS Rep: Ummm ... [recovers] uh, okay, you can if you want, it's up to you!
Me: Okay, 'cuz it looks pretty simple.
CS Rep: Yes! It's very simple!
Me: Yeah alright, I've made a *lot* of accounts, lemme see, name, email, password ... doesn't really matter, I won't probably be using this again [dang, I need to stop narrating aloud to myself].
CS Rep: Aw, you won't be using it again? That makes me sad.
Me: Um ... well I guess you have to use it to order, don't you. I was more thinking I'm not gonna be returning anything again.
CS Rep: Yes, you'll use it to order [goes into pre-made "things you'll use your account for" spiel as I finish actually making account]
Me: 'Kay, I'm all set.
CS Rep: Okay, Emily, so what's the email you just used for that account?
Me: Well ... I'm gonna say it and then spell it, 'cuz it's weird. [says, spells]
CS Rep: Hm, okay!
Me: Long story.

After much more speaking and fairly little progress, including such themes as Which Shoes Do You Want? ("Aw, not the leopard print?") and What Happens to the $12 Difference Between These and the Other Pair? ("I, uh, I've never had someone exchange something where it cost less, let me look that up"), and Other/Cheaper Things I Can Buy Here ("clothing, golf clubs, kitchen knives ..."), we returned to that old favorite, Your Email Address ("So, Emily, I've emailed the shipping label ... now what's the story about your email address?").

Remember what I said about long stories?

Me: Well, um, it's just a species name actually --
CS Rep: Yeah, I figured something like that!
Me: [in my speediest "telling impatient new library patrons where all the computers and service desks are" voice] It's a bug, dermestid beetles; they're flesh-eating bugs, but ... basically, they're hide beetles, so. Yeah, like I said, long story why I chose it though.
CS Rep: See the reason I ask is, I'm really interested in forensic stuff, like CSI stuff and that kind of thing. So what's the long story?
Me: [good luck with the job options, buddy]. Ah. Interesting. Well. [so much for getting rid of him with the flesh-eating-bugs part]. Have you heard of the TV show Bones.
CS Rep: [closest anyone has come to delivering an audible eye-roll] Of course.
Me: [back to "the-info-desk-is-in-the-middle-over-there-they-can-help-you-find-items" rhythm] Ah, okay. Well, I always liked the character Zack; so of course he's got his flesh-eating bugs, and that's the kind they were. And they all had names, and he wouldn't let anyone kill them, because they had names, and I thought that was cute. So. There you go.
CS Rep: Okay, I get that! Cool.
Me: [SO AM I GETTING MY NEW SHOES OR WHAT] So. *HREM*
CS Rep: Okay, so that address wasn't the one they were shipped from, that's going to you, right? [starts reading back address]
Me: Seven. Not two, seven. Right?
CS Rep: Oh, right! Yeah, I must have been reading the ZIP code.
Me: ... [there are no 2's in my ZIP code] Ah. Yes?
CS Rep: And that's -- how do you pronounce that -- AH-mayz? Ah-MEHZ?
Me: ... Ames. It's Ames. [this package is never going to find me, is it?]
CS Rep: Oh, okay!
Me: YEP.
CS Rep: Well, you have a good evening!
Me: You too. BYE!

But on the bright side, I got my shoes the next day, and they fit precisely as they ought -- even the surly werewolf artist-librarian Lizard Lass can find no fault. Plus, the buckles jingle when I walk. Yes, this is definitely a plus.


Okay, I admit, the umbrella isn't mine. I don't really go for the polka-dot motif. But I couldn't resist....
If you read this far without falling asleep or giving up entirely, you deserve a cookie! So go bake yourself some. I'll take care of the leftovers if you have any. :)