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Posts Tagged ‘Peeves’

Dear Georgia Department of Revenue:

I see you still have not gotten your act together, despite my April 27 plea. At that point, it had been more than three weeks since I had mailed in my tax return that necessitated a refund.

Time passed.

Three more weeks.

The “Where’s my Refund?” portal indicated that my return had been received, and I should allow 30 business days to receive the refund.

I decided to call you last week (May 19 to be exact) just to see if I could narrow that field a bit.

I waited on hold for 30 minutes then received an option for a call back. I chose “yes” and got the requested call in fewer than 30 seconds (bizarre).

The foul-tempered woman on the phone revealed that my refund had been cleared for processing May 12, and it was in the queue to be deposited in my account. She informed me I should allow 30 business days.

That same day, the portal indicated that my refund was processing, and I should allow 15 business days.

This is what I found on the portal today:

Screen Shot 2016-05-24 at 7.17.47 PM

What the FRESH HECK is THAT? Ninety BUSINESS days?

There is a big difference between 15 business days (three weeks) and 90 business days (18 weeks) and even the 30 days (six weeks) quoted on two different occasions. Ninety days would mean I should have my refund by Sept. 16 — nearly SIX MONTHS after I mailed the return to you. You do realize that’s insane, right? Especially when you consider that I would have gotten it within 72 hours if I had been able to file electronically. Three more months from that date, and I’ll be filing for a new tax year.

Let that sink in a bit.

Get it together, Georgia. You already are out of whack in so many areas. Don’t add to the list.

I want my $2+!

I hate you. So much.

Sincerely angry,
Beth

 

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Dear Bathroom-fixated Bureaucrats/Legislators:

The abundance of so-called “bathroom bills” is mystifying to me. Why is this a thing? Am I supposed to carry my birth certificate with me just in case I’m stopped by the Potty Police? Can I not use the men’s room when the women’s room has a line 10 deep? Is there really an epidemic of pedophiles stalking children in bathrooms?

I’m not down with the POV of people and groups such as the Family Research Council on their support of these bills. To me, the FRC’s six “talking points” should never be spoken aloud, much less written. Are you folks listening to yourselves?

kevin-moore-bathroom-cartoo

I am NOT worried about pedophiles in the bathroom preying on my kids. Why? Because my kids are old enough to holler at someone who is doing something inappropriate and/or leave the bathroom immediately and tell Eddie, me or another adult in charge. Do other parents not discuss today’s version of stranger danger with their children? If my kids were younger, they would not be in the public bathroom without me or Eddie. So I don’t really understand what the fuss is all about.

I AM worried about a different kind of filthy person: the kind who leaves the bathroom a crime scene. I don’t want to have to wear a hazmat suit to answer nature’s call.

Where is the outrage over pee on the seat and floor?

Where is the disgust over lady products wadded haphazardly in disposal bins?

Where is the fuss over floaters?

bathroom-e1277159107542

THAT is what bothers me on a daily basis, not the thought of a transgender person needing to use the facilities. I’m not even worried about sexual predators (see reason above). I’m worried about people who don’t wash their hands. Germs kill!

If you must have Privy Patrol, let them cite for infractions such as:

  • Burglary of All the Toilet Paper
  • Assault with a Deadly Scent
  • Leaving the Scene of an Accident

I’ll be writing my congressman.

Yours in Sanitation,
Beth

 

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Dear Georgia Department of Revenue:

It’s been more than three weeks since I dutifully mailed in my 2015 tax forms. Your federal counterparts (i.e., the IRS) cashed my payment check the day they received my forms. Yet I’m still waiting for my refund from you.

Usually I file electronically and get my refund lightning fast. However, thanks to some asshat who tried to steal my identity on a federal return (little did they know that I am not a federal refund kind of gal), I had to mail in the forms.

So now I’m wondering, “Where’s my refund?” It’s a common-enough question that you have a web page devoted to the answer. Let’s break it down:

You cannot help me by phone (no number given) or walk-in (Where would I go to do that in Savannah?) until 30-45 days have passed. I repeat (and so do you): 30-45 days. That is an eternity in today’s instant-gratification society.

Oh wait: You have a portal to allow tracking.

Great!

I signed up. I received this response when I tried to track my refund:

Screen Shot 2016-04-27 at 3.23.10 AM

 

What is the freakin’ deal?

Comma splice aside (What? No one to proofread? There should be SOMEONE, given the fact that employees aren’t tied up helping people for 30-45 days or so), I promise I entered the correct information. I’m looking at my tax forms. I used my SSN to log in, for crying out loud.

I don’t want to get all loud, Rihanna style, but I do want my refund.

I shouldn’t expect efficiency and logic from a government entity, but I do. I’m optimistic like that. So if you could get your act together, that would be great.

Yours in fiscal responsibility,
Beth

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Dear Readers,

I apologize for my radio silence. I have writer’s block. Well, it’s not a block as much as it is a bad case of self-censorship. I assure you I’m not “wasting time,” George R.R. Martin style.

Until I post a new letter (read: decide to stop worrying about offending someone), here is a fun matching game for you to play.

Match the comment with the person who said it to me. Answers at the bottom.

  1. “Will you make time for my funeral?”
  2. “If you swallow your gum, you can just poop it out.”
  3. “Can we go to Lowe’s? I need some red tape.”
  4. “You’re quiet. Are you upset? Are you mad at me?”
  5. “Something is wrong with you.”

A. My 11-year-old son
B. My 9-year-old son
C. My father
D. My boss
E. My husband

Note: Void where prohibited. Action figures sold separately. Results may vary. Contents under pressure. Consult your physician if fever persists for more than three days or if pain continues for more than five days. All sales final.

See you here soon (I hope),
Beth

Your life sucks without me.

1. C, 2. B, 3. A, 4. D, 5. E

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image

What’s this? An alien life form?

Dear Fall,

So I noticed that we haven’t seen you yet this year. I don’t want to make you feel guilty or anything, but some of us rely on you for relief from that asshat Summer.

Summer always overstays his welcome, as far as I’m concerned. He makes me sweat. He likes girls in those gross high-waisted booty shorts. He’s great with the kids, but is a bore when they go back to school.

It’s November. You were supposed to be here Sept. 23. Winter has already booked his visit for Dec. 22. If you are running late, though, I guess Winter is too. I don’t really care about Winter. Sorry, not sorry.

Fall, it’s your visit I look forward to every year. When you come, I get to wear sweaters, boots and maybe even a jaunty scarf. I get to make soups, stews and hearty pies. I get to stock up on bocks, stouts and porters. I can’t do that with Summer hanging around in his half-shirt yelling, “More Bud Light!”

Summer goes shopping.

Summer goes shopping.

So Fall, please get your act together. I hear you may show up Sunday. Let’s hope so. Summer just cranked up Nelly’s “Hot in Herre” … again.

Wish you were here,
Beth

*Apologies to Fall Out Boy

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Dear Delta,

I thought we were exclusive. I thought you cared. But then you wanted a three-way with WestJet.

It’s not OK.

I’m monogamous. I’m loyal. I booked my trip to be with you.

But then you were all, “I have this big project in L.A. and I can’t take you to Vancouver. WestJet will take you.”

And WestJet is the college roommate whose tooth got knocked out in a bar fight. And he might have herpes. And toe fungus.

WestJet had a few screws loose — literally.

WestJet did not inspire confidence. WestJet treated me like some random person when I’m used to the special treatment I get from you, Delta, because you recognize how much time and money I spend with you. WestJet turned on the air and wanted to charge me for a blanket. Delta, are you listening to me?

Yes, I know: #firstworldproblems.

But I care about our relationship, and I want to make it work. Make it up to me: Take me out, treat me well, and we can forget this ever happened.

Deal?

Loyally yours,
Beth

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1280px-IHOP_Restaurant_logo.svgDear IHOP:

To borrow from Taylor Swift, “Why you gotta be so mean?

Let me explain.

My family and I recently visited the newly open restaurant in Pooler. We walked in and immediately were struck by the fact that servers outnumbered diners four to one. When I asked for a booth, the hostess gave me such a dirty look that I backed down and meekly took the table.

It was our server’s second day on the job and about to be her last, she said. Why? The owners and corporate reps were in town — hence the reason there were about 24 servers on duty. She said servers weren’t making any money because they had just a couple of tables all day. (This explains why we had to sit at a certain table.)

I watched her carry our four drinks, spilling mine because she didn’t have a tray. “Why don’t you have a tray?,” I asked, remembering my days as a server at Western Sizzlin’. She said there were only a couple of trays in the whole restaurant, and they could only use them for certain purposes. Carrying drinks apparently was not one of them.

Um … what?!?

I’m a chatty sort, so chat we did. She told me all the servers had just been barked at by one of the suits because they had too many cutlery bundles on the tables. They had put four bundles out for a four-person table. That makes sense to me, but it is not OK in IHOPland. Four-tops get two bundles; six-tops get four. No wonder we always have to ask for silverware.

o

I happened to spot one of the suits. As I was riled up, I marched over to talk to him. Topics: excessive amount of servers, trays, silverware. This fellow, a vice president according to his business card, could not have been smarmier. He was incredibly dismissive of me and simply said that “corporate” has determined all of the policies so that all IHOPs are the same.

Here’s an excerpt from our conversation:

Me: “But not allowing trays makes it harder for servers to do their jobs.”

Him: “They can use trays.”

Me: “They can’t use trays to carry drinks.”

Him: “No, they can. They just can’t put the trays on the table.”

Me: “But no one is using trays here.”

Him: “Yes, they are.”

Our server: (overhearing conversation but out of the VP’s eye line, meets my eyes and shakes her head, “No.”)

I did not see anyone use a tray the entire time I was there.

Another excerpt:

Me: “It doesn’t seem logical that tables for four people would only have two bundles of silverware.”

Him: “Yes, it does. IHOP corporate wants all IHOPs to look the same when customers walk in.”

Me: “But they could look the same if they had the right amount of silverware on the tables as well. We always have to ask for silverware.”

Him: “The hostess should count the number of people and bring the amount needed.”

Me: “Well, first of all, that makes extra work for people, which doesn’t make sense. Second, our hostess didn’t bring two extra bundles for us.”

Him: “Yes, she did.”

Me: (Looking at him with my patented “Are you effing kidding me?” glare) OK. I give up.

Good job, IHOP, for selecting a person for a vice president role who has such a handle on (inane) IHOP policies yet a complete inability to grasp why policies exist: to help customers have an enjoyable dining experience and want to return.

So we are not going to return. Sorry, IHOP. You need to rethink your rules and leadership.

Came hungry, left unhappy,
Beth

 

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Dear Job Seeker:

I’ve written posts about the job search in general, job fairs, Skype interviews and in-person interviews. I have not addressed email correspondence specifically, because I thought your mama taught you well.

I was wrong.

Maybe I shouldn’t blame mothers. Maybe it’s our digital culture that makes people lazy and rude.

When looking for a job, however, you should be on your best behavior.

  1. Ensure your emails are professional. Often, an email is the hiring manager’s first impression of you. Make it count. A candidate recently copied me on an email to an HR recruiter. It was the first email I received from the candidate. It began with this sentence: It does not appear that my candidacy for the [REDACTED] opening has thus far been accorded the proper level of respect and professionalism. I had been on the fence about the candidate. That certainly helped me make a decision.
  2. Watch your tone. Remember that positive emails tend to come across as neutral; neutral emails read negative. Perhaps the candidate was simply neutral. (Yeah, right.)
  3. Use proper grammar and mechanics. Do not use textspeak. SYK.
  4. Don’t write a book. People often read emails on their phones. Don’t make them scroll and scroll and scroll. Get to the point.
  5. Proofread. Then get someone else to proofread the email also.
  6. Don’t be a pest. Say everything you need to say in one short email. If the person writes you back, then you can write again. Send one email to follow up on an interview. If you haven’t heard anything in two weeks after that email, send a final email. Then let it go. If the listing says “no calls or emails” then you have to respect that or risk pissing off the hiring manager.
  7. Always send a hand-written “thank you” note after an interview. It’s just good manners. Sadly,  few people have good manners nowadays. That means you will stand out in a good way.

email-cartoon

Happy writing!
Beth

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img_car_fam03Dear Gary and Joy Lundberg,

I read your article, “5 ways adult children hurt their parents without realizing it.” It was a timely read as I visited my aging father over the weekend. Though you make some excellent points, I’d like to respond with points of my own.

Your Point 1: You don’t call them much

You note that adult children should “be sure to include some good news” when they call. They have to because if the children don’t include some good news, there won’t be any at all. Every time I call my father, or Eddie calls his mom, or my coworker Anita calls her father, etc., we hear about exploding spleens, the consistency of colon output, new affronts to personal world view, “that damn doctor,” or “these kids today.”

Adult children understand that parents have less control over their lives and that makes them scared and angry. Children also understand that parents are on many medications that alter their mood. But that behavior also makes visits seem like being held hostage by an angry badger. Would you repeatedly subject yourself to an angry badger? What if the badger was not only angry, but also complained when you didn’t allow yourself to be held hostage?

What’s worse is that children remember what their parents were like when they were growing up. They compare the new, cranky badger parent with the memory of the parent who raised them. Often those seem like two completely different people.

Aging isn’t fun; everyone knows that. Adult children know it too as they also are aging. People can either try to have a positive attitude or they can be angry badgers. Don’t be an angry badger.

Your Point 2: You ask them for money

Your comment, “You’re an adult and capable of providing for yourself and family,” is so true. So true! I know of many adult children who are still sucking off the teat. Their parents should stop allowing it, but parents love to be needed. Saving the day is a hard habit to break.

But what about when children have to take care of their parents plus their teat-sucking brethren? What about the families where there is one responsible adult child and the rest are deadbeats? What about adult children — part of the so-called “sandwich generation” — who  are worrying about paying for their parents’ assisted living plus their children’s college? In about five years, I likely will be touring residence halls for both my father and my son. That sounds delightful.

Your Point 3: You forget their birthdays

I’ve got no issue with that. Everyone should remember birthdays and holidays. And, if you have any relationship at all with your mother or father, then you should call them (at least) on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. Even lazy folks can post a Facebook status. That’s where the older people are anyway, right?

Your Point 4: You don’t offer them your help

While it’s true that it is a good idea to offer specific suggestions (“Hey, can I clean out those gutters?”), what happens when parents are offended by offers to help? I know from personal experience that these offers can make parents angry and defensive. You say, “Can I clean your bathroom?” and they hear, “Good lord, Man! What happened in your bathroom? Who exploded? You can’t see that crime scene in there?” Many parents become outraged at offers of help or any suggestions.

Your point 5: You don’t include them in your family events

I agree with you: Children should invite parents to be part of special events. You also offer this advice, “If they invite you and your family over for dinner, accept the invitation and show up.” Shouldn’t the same be said to parents? Aging parents often live in different cities from their offspring. Sometimes parents are not as mobile as their children. But they should still want to be in their children’s and grandchildren’s lives. There’s always Skype.

Parents spend much of their lives yelling at their children to “Get a job!,” “Settle down!” and “Have some kids!” Then when their children get a job, settle down and have some kids, their parents want them to forget all that and spend more time with them. Adult children can’t win. They have responsibilities, are pulled in many different directions, and want to make everyone happy. It’s not possible.

ChastRoz0011398889741Your closing paragraph includes the sentence, “Look at how you are treating your parents and ask yourself if this is the way you want your children to treat you when they’re grown.” OK. There’s also this for adult children: “Look at how your parents are treating you and ask yourself if this is the way you want to treat your children when you are old.”

Even though Eddie tells our sons that he is going to take off his clothes, run around their house, and sit naked on their couch when he is old just like they do to us, we know he is just kidding. (Good God, I HOPE he is just kidding.) I’m learning what I will not do to my children.

A legacy is the memories a person leaves behind. I plan to make sure the good memories outweigh the bad.

Hope you see there’s another side,
Beth

for-all-the-love-you-ve-given-me-i-will-one-day-pay-your-nursing-home-bill-mih

 

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The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.
— Robert Frost

Dear Life:

I want to register a complaint: I’m not happy to be aging. Don’t get me wrong — It’s definitely better than the alternative of death. (I’m fully aware that the non-aging circumstance of Adaline only exists on screen.)

Just when I feel like I am mentally hitting my prime, my body begins to betray me. A list of complaints:

1. Wrinkles
When did this crow land on my face? What is happening to me? I went to see a plastic surgeon to discuss removing a weird vein on my leg. My leg! But he took one look at my face and said, “You need Botox. You probably should consider a forehead lift.” Gee, thanks.

2. Crepey skin
Whose zombie hands are these? I use sunscreen and plenty of potions to keep my paws supple.  Why do they look like this?

Peach3. Slower metabolism
There’s more of me than there should be. It would be easily remedied with regular visits to the gym. Ain’t nobody got time for that. So I’m on what I call my Cruise Diet. (So called because I did it last year in preparation for our summer cruise. I didn’t want anyone to see me on deck and try to throw me back in the water.) You may ask, “What is this diet?” Think of everything you like to eat and drink. Yeah, well, you can’t have any of it. No dairy, sugar, pasta, grains or alcoholic beverages. I’m reduced to eating grass clippings and palm fronds. It works, though.

4. Jacked-up joints
Last weekend, I was peacefully curled up on the couch enjoying a marathon of recorded episodes of “The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon” (’cause this gal can’t stay up that late). I stood up to get some unsweetened tea (the only thing I can drink besides water) and my hip gave out. That’s a WTF moment if I’ve ever had one. I had to laugh. It’s not funny, though. Not really.

5. Memories
Last week, I actually started a sentence with, “Back in my day.” Good GOD! What have I become? I remember a world without cable, remotes, computers and cellphones. Excuse me while I retrieve my walker.

I’m at that point where I know I’m too old for certain clothes (crop tops), certain activities (climbing on top of the dryer to reach something on the top shelf in the laundry room) and certain people (no Nathan Kress — yes, Freddie from iCarly — unless he hunts cougars).

The wisest are the most annoyed at the loss of time.
— Dante Alighieri

So thanks, Life. Thanks for giving me the wisdom to realize how good my 20s were.

Yours in dismay,
Granny Beth

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