Definition: something causing death, destruction, or ruin
Example: $1.79 Cleaners was the bane of my ivory sweater coat.
I went to the cleaners this morning to show the manager a new ivory sweater coat and the one they ruined last week.
One was grey-ish white (the ruined one). The other was a nice, soft ivory color (the new one). There should've been no argument. THEY ARE THE ONES THAT RUINED THE DAMN SWEATER!
So the manager comes to the front of the store with a look in her eye that states "I don't want no trouble". I asked her if she remembered me from last week. She does. So I take out the sweaters and with no explanation I lay them side by side for her to see.
She knows what I want. She knows she's in trouble. She knows she fucked up. She knows there's going to be a fight.
The manager looks at both sweaters and asks me, "Well, you know we have a sign up there in the front that reminds you that we aren't responsible for your garment if it says do not dry clean, hand wash only, or machine wash only."
Yes lady, I know this. What is it with people these days? I know how to fucking read.
I politely tell her, "Yes, I know this, but my tag does not say any of those things, which would make me think that it is safe to dry clean."
"Well," she scoffs. "It does say machine wash."
And you're telling me this because????
*AHEM* (Preparing myself for my short speech)
"Yes it does say machine wash, but it does not say machine wash only, nor does it say hand wash only or do not dry-clean." I hand her the receipt for the sweater. "This sweater cost $40 and I was confident that you would clean it properly. If the washing instructions had stated the aforementioned directions, I would not have brought the sweater in to have it dry-cleaned."
She just stared at me nervously. I dared her to shoo me away. I'm telling you, these country folks are intimidated by intelligence.
"I'll have to talk to the ower. It's for him to decide."
What the hell is the purpose of a manager if she can't make a decision on her own!?
"Come back tomorrow. I'll have an answer for you then."
And I might have an invitation to small claims court for her! Or perhaps a visit to Judge Mathis?
"Judgement for the plaintiff in the amount of forty-one dollars and sixty five cent. Go 'head Miss Wendy and get you a new ivory sweater coat with your fine self. Go out and find you some freakery!"
"I have two daughters, and being a women is hard enough, but they have the added benefit of not being in a minority group..."
I heard those words today at a function dedicated to the empowerment of women. So what I heard was, true, your daughters are women (and true women are a minority group), but is it TRULY A BENEFIT by not being in a minority group (I suppose that means African-American, Asian, Latino, American-Indian)?
I can't tell...seems like everyone wants to be in the minority group. They act like it!
Little majority girls try to make their asses look like J-Lo's.
The most recognizable female music group among teens and tweens is Destiny's Child.
Bronzer is the top selling product at make-up counters. Why is that?
Little majority boys try to look like rap stars by wearing Phat Farm, Rocawear, Sean John, and Fubu (and sportin' shirts with a big old fat black dude with a red sweater like he's an icon. Hey-hey-hey). See, the key word is TRY.
The number one song on Billboard is by Ja Rule and your son wants to be just like him.
Your children crimp their hair and wear cornrows and braids in an attempt to look like Beyonce, Ludacris and Alicia Keys.
We, as the minority, have defined a culture that has taken over your youth population. We defined your culture in the 50's with our dances. We defined your culture in the 60's with our music. We defined your culture in the 70's with our style.
And you say there is an added benefit to not being in a minority group?
BLACK DON'T CRACK. You do. You age quicker. You look older. You can't dance. Your hair isn't as cool. Your names are wack. And dammit, you can't cook.
I'm sad because the cleaners ruined my ivory sweater coat. Yes, the one that I ordered from JCrew 2 weeks ago! That sweater coat was good to me. It kept me warm and it looked good. Unfortunatly, it got funked up over the weekend from smoke and booze (yes, that's a word Amber), so being the I-don't-have-time-to-wash-an-ivory-cotton-sweater-coat person that I am, I took it to the cleaners.
My ivory sweater coat came back grey. No, I take that back. My ivory sweater coat came back brown, looking like someone had shit on my ivory sweater coat and then smeared it around in circles. Oh yeah, the damn thing shrunk too. I put on my shit sweater coat to see how it would look and the sight brought me to tears. It looked like I had put on something that had been retrieved from the damn sewer. So is the shit look in? Do I hear a donation to Goodwill?
I'm thinking...that's ok. I'll just go online and order another one and make them pay for it. ($34.99 + shipping).
[typing...] www.jcrew.com
[click...] clearance/women's
[click...] cotton sweaters
[click...] marled cotton coat
[click...] color/light ivory/size s
[click...] add to cart
We're sorry - the color you requested is sold out --
damn...Damn...DAMN!
After calming down from my "Flo-Fury" I took my shit sweater coat back to the cleaners. They said it could be fixed back to an ivory sweater coat. "Give me until tomorrow. I'm sure I can fix it."
Why can't anyone understand that this is my Blog and I can do whatever the hell I want to with it?
Do you see me trying to sell you shit on my site? Do you see me trying to get some sort of "customer retention" on my site? Do you see me trying to please the fucking masses on this site?
Nope. Nope. Nope.
I don't care what the hell you think about my Blog. I'm not writing for you, I'm writing for me. You just seem to be in awe with it...why else do you keep coming back? The facination of getting a look into someone's life...
See that name up there? It says wendywendywendywendywendywendywendywendywendy, right?
Bloggers are bold...and those who chose to look and not share obviously have something to hide.
OK, so it turned out to be 100%...how's that for good customer service?
Ms. Jeffries,
We would first like to you know that we here at the Corporate Office of Freshens Quality Brands have received your fax dated 02/18/02.
We will begin looking into this matter with the location manager as soon as we are able to reach her. In the meantime, I do want you to know that since this is not a licensed franchisee of ours, we will try to work together with the Nature's Table Corporation to help resolve this issue, especially since it involved our product.
We do regret that you experienced such poor customer service and never want that for any of our customers. I would like to ask you one question, can you please give me the date in which the incident occurred so I may relay this to the manager as well?
Thank you for your time and we will be in contact with you at a later date.
Best Regards, Donna Krause Client Services Coordinator Freshens Quality Brands
Searched the internet this morning for information on Freshens. Of course, their website sucked and was very vague on who to contact for complaints. Decided to email the "For more information, contact..." person. Also decided to send a fax over to good 'ole Freshens. I'm thinking there's a 20% chance someone will contact me regarding the complaint. Not that I care or anything, but I'd love to hear their response...just for fun . . . The day drags on...have you ever wondered why exboyfriends are called "exboyfriends"? I think these sound better:
My ex-buzzard My ex-asshole My ex-dickforabrain My ex-sorrysonofabitch My former dick My guy I used to fuck
And no my ex-sorrysonoffrancine. You didn't offend me. What makes you think this is about you?
Went to Raleigh this weekend to meet up with my Sands (and my most favorite line sister) Kimberly. So we decide to go to breakfast at Ihop, then head over to Crabtree Mall for some shopping.
"Sands I want some ice cream. Let's go get some ice cream!" she tells me and we make our way over to the food court.
Hmmm...there's Haagen Dazs....there's Freshens Yogurt...I kinda have a taste for a smoothie...
"Sands, you said you wanted a smoothie, right? Let's go to Freshens!"
So we go to Freshens and I request a Jamaican Cooler, or something like that, which is supposed to be filled with lucious strawberries, bananas, and yogurt. Instead, I got a cup full of red crushed ice.
(Now my ex would've hated me for doing this, but after the approval of my Sands and her boyfriend, I decided to do it anyway)
I took the cup back up to the counter and began with an, "Umm, excuse me. This doesn't taste right. Would I be able to get another one made or a substitution?"
No...do ya know how many times we hear that everyday? At least 20. You want another one, you gonna have t'pay fer it.
"Hmmm. No. That's not satisfactory. This smoothie does not taste right at all. Are you telling me that you are refusing to make me something else? Let me talk to your manager"
I'm the manager, but I can let you talk to the owner. She right over der...
A short, old, pony-tailed version of Stevie Nicks comes over to me...
What is it?
Huh? Who is she talking to? "Yes, your manager is refusing to make this smoothie over again, and I'd like to know why?"
We just don't do things like that. Too many people ask us that every day.
I'm thinking...well, MAYBE IT'S BECAUSE YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO MAKE A DAMN SMOOTHIE PROPERLY...but I continue...
"Well, that is not acceptable, and that is poor customer service. Are you telling me I can't get something else that is satisfactory to my taste? What is your name and the manager's name?"
Why don't you just leave?
"Excuse me?"
Just leave us alone. Go away...
Stevie had the nerve to shoo me away with her hands.
"No, wait a minute. I'd like the number to your district manager so that I can voice my concerns! Is there a 1-800 number to Freshens?"
There is no district manager. We don't have a number. I don't know what it is. It might be 1-800-FRESHENS. I don't know.
"Lady, that's too many numbers. I think you and your staff need to take a training course in customer service, and learn how to make your product the right way. Furthermore, I don't understand why you don't have this information available for your customers?"
Well, I'd like to know what type of education you have!
Oh no she didn't. "Oh really? I have an MBA do you know what M-B-A stands for?"
Dead silence from Stevie.
Just leave us alone! Don't come back! Go away, and don't come back. Do you want to talk to the mall?? I'll get them on the phone! Don't come back here again!
WHAT IN THE ????
Either Stevie was intimidated by an articulate black woman, or an educated black women. I do not understand why her answer to all of my questions were, "Go away!"
I set the smoothie next to her and left her with some parting words:
"Lady, I could buy your Freshen's franchise and a few more at that. You've probably just ruined your customer base for the day with your lude outburst. Did they teach you that in your "How To Lose Customers" course? Have a good day."
Love Sucks (and another thing that is bothering me today)...
Boris (a/k/a Damon on Soul Food...see below) made his hoochie kill herself last night. The broad slit her wrists and wrote "I Still Love You" with her blood on his apartment wall. Why? She told Damon she might be pregnant, and what did he say? "Well, I don't love you that way." Damon got up and left to go work out and left the bitch all tore down and crying. He came back to find his crib tore up and the bitch bleeding in his bed. Realistic? Maybe. Unexpected? Yes. Did she have to kill herself over a freakin' man?? (Well, he is fine and all but daaayummmmm, don't kill yourself over some dick!) Love can make a woman do some stupid shit!
It's V-Day. Valentines Day. Why is it that we always get e-cards from the "married men" and the men that "are like a brother" to me. We get phone calls from our girls wishing us "Happy Valentine's Day". But we don't get a single card, phone call, gift, flowers, candy, balloons, stuffed animal, cookie, cake, wish, or shit from the person we think we want it from the most. Whatever...I feel like going over to that person's desk who got the most stuff today and popping her balloons and eating all of her candy and cutting off the nose on the teddy bear sitting on her desk. Hater...yep that's me.
And I am out of snacks. My body is obviously holding on to my fat because my weight has been hovering in the same area for the past 2 months. Is my body just hungry? Everyone at work is on weight watchers and always counting points and shit. Yeah, I do it too, but I'll be dammed if I'll be counting the fat, fiber, and calorie content of every freaking thing I eat. To hell with it. I'm going home and eating some cookies. Then I'm going to kickboxing. I look good in my clothes.
Even the CEO thinks so. She ran past me today and said hi, then stopped, turned around and said, "You look very cute."
My Mom always told me to look good at work. That is why it takes me an hour to get ready for work every morning. Gotta do my hair and makeup, and make sure my outfit looks good. After all, you never know when you are going to run into the CEO, right?
Didn't even want to come into work today. Stayed up all night to watch Super Bowl and Showtime at the Apollo. The commercials sucked. The only funny one was the Bud Light commercial with the flying bird. Brittany sucked (she got the lowest rating). mlife sucked (who the hell knows who they are anyway;furthermore, who cares if it's Ameritech? I thought it was MetLife). That damn eTrade ape sucked. The Lipton Tea was ok, but why they gotta beat down Al Roker at the end?
Mariah Carey sucked. Yeah, I said it, she sucked. Why didn't Patti sing the National Anthem?
At least the game was good.
Work continues to suck. Don't really know what my responsibilities are anymore since they haven't really announced the restructuring in my group. So I sit in limbo doing what I've been doing for the past 8 months, and not knowing what tomorrow holds for me. To top it off, my computer sucks because it's to freakin' slow.
But then I think about my previous job...it sucked. People are literally dying at my old job. Some guy had a heart attack and died. I tell you, those people are demons up on that 6th floor. Wouldn't be surprised if they got sued.
Then there's the job I had after college. It sucked because it was boring as hell. Funny thing is that they are being sued because some dumb ass sent out a racist email:
INDIANAPOLIS-- An employee of Indianapolis-based cellular phone distributor Brightpoint Inc. has accused company executives of exchanging racist and sexist pictures over the company's e-mail system, state legislators said Wednesday. The female employee, who is on paid leave, filed a complaint with the federal Equal Opportunity Employment Commission, according to a group of black and female legislators at a Statehouse news conference.
The legislators released the pictures that allegedly are involved in the complaint.
One of the pictures distributed to the media, titled "Miss South Africa," shows a swimsuit-clad body of a woman with an ape-like head.
"If it were not for our calendars that indicate today is Jan. 30, 2002, one would think that it's Jan. 30, 1952, (when) this was commonplace," said Rep. Charlie Brown, D-Gary.
The lawmakers demanded that the company take action against the people responsible for sending the images.
Members of Brightpoint's day-to-day management team had no public comment, but a member of the company's board of directors said the company will do whatever is necessary to discover who is at fault.
"I've given people my word that we're going to turn over every stone, and nothing like this will ever happen again," board member Robert Wagner said.
Brightpoint is headquartered in Indianapolis and has a facility in Plainfield.
Massa Sho Was Busy! (An explanation of why I look so white)
The other day I received a strange white envelope in the mail from NY. My immediate thoughts are to pitch the damn thing for fear of Anthrax, but being the brave soul that I am, I pry the letter open with some keys and tweezers. It turns out to be an invitation to a family reunion...a Jeffries, Zimmerman, Brown, and Offspring reunion.
Zimmerman?
I'm thinking, who the hell are these folk?
We ain't got no peoples up in New York!
The past family reunions I've always attended were a production of my Grandfather (a Jeffries) and my grandmother (a Moore). 30 years later it became quite "conventional" as the Jeffries, Moore, Todd, Willis, Collins family reunion. So I'm thinking that now they've added in some more folk (the Browns and Zimmermans) and I become a bit disturbed. So I email Mr. Brown (the person who mailed me the invite), and I ask "What family member gave you my address and how am I related to you????"
The response:
Hello wendy, was very happy to hear from you. I got your name and address from C. Jacobs, who is my first cousin on my fathers side. He attended the Jeffries reunion in Virginia. My Grand mother was a Jeffries. I talked to an Eddie Jeffries yesterday by phone who lives in Virginia.
I am going to forward your e-mail to C. Jacobs, he knows more about this than I do.
I am working on a genealogy program that I will put on the Internet. You will be able to view it at ancestry.com when I am finish. Mr. Eddie Jeffries is also interested in genealogy. He said he will put his there also. Maybe you know Eddie Jeffries.
Uh, yeah I know Eddie Jeffries, that is my Grandfather...or it could be my Uncle...or my cousin! It's confirmed after 3 phone conversations, that it's my Uncle (my Dad's brother) he's been talking to.
But here's the thing, my Grandfather's father was the offspring of a "Massa" somewhere in Alabama (his name was John Bunyan Jeffries...now what kind of fucking name is that?) Does "Massa" have a mass of Jeffries folk north and south of the Mason-Dixon line? How exactly does this Mr. Brown know that he is related to my Jeffries? I guess it's quite possible since mulatto children were born into slavery and sold all the time. Amazing...
And by the way, just to set the record straight...
I do not have a white parent.
I do not have a white grandparent.
I do not have a white great-grandparent.
But what I do have is a white great-great-grandparent: MASSA!
