Automated phone systems

One of our favorite activities has to be calling a company's customer service line and wading through the ever-helpful automated phone touch-tone system. Let's examine why we so enjoy participating in this ubiquitous corporate cluster-shtoop:

Upon determining what our problem is and what questions we need answered, we dial 1-800-SCREW-ME or whatever cutesy vanity number the corporation in question has chosen. A couple of exceptions would be ITunes and EBay, which have shrouded their customer "service" departments in such secrecy, that not even the CIA could uncover a working phone number to either of these upstanding entities. Maybe a blessing in disguise?

The first thing we encounter along our telephonic journey is an unusually well-spoken voice, likely resembling that of Donald Sutherland, informing us that we have a choice of listening to options in English or Spanish. So far, reasonable and pretty clear-cut.

Next, Donald informs us that we are about to hear approximately 572 options, and that we can slit our wrists at any time during this call. I know what you're all thinking at this point - I'll just press the appropriate number as soon as I hear the option that best fits my situation. Just hold the phone a minute (pardon that really lame pun)...this is where Donald so helpfully admonishes us that we must listen carefully to ALL of the options, as some may have recently changed. Is there an automated phone system in the known universe that does not feature options that have recently changed? When exactly are these companies going to solidify all of their customer service options and leave the damn phone system as-is? Is there one person in each company whose job it is to review all 572 options every single day and randomly change those which seem not to fit any longer?

Once you have finally ascertained the appropriate option and excitedly punched the corresponding number (or series of numbers if your option is #512), father Sutherland comes back on the line to instruct you further. It's at this point that you are required to enter approximately 5,000 different pieces of personal information...of course so the evasive customer service representative can "better assist you." So, naturally, you must enter your phone number, social security number, numbers corresponding to your mother's maiden name, company account number, current home address, date of birth, and so on. You may even be asked to go down to the local Kinko's and fax a copy of your pet dog's latest immunization records. If you don't have a pet dog, you may have to stop at a pet store...don't worry, it's usually in the same shopping center as Kinko's. But then of course, you need to find a veterinarian's office nearby to get the pesky little thing immunized.

Once you've returned home with Rover, you pick up the phone again and press the # button to continue. This is when Donald informs you that you should remain on the line as all of the customer service representatives are currently assisting other callers. Sure they are. They're not on Facebook or in the midst of a heated online poker game. This message will also be repeated around 789 times just in case you've forgotten how busy everyone is. Rest assured, your call is VERY important to them. In fact, everything is fine, because Donald knows approximately how long your estimated wait time will be. How accurate are these estimations? Let's just say that if this were that mountain climber game on The Price is Right, that little bugger would go sailing over that cliff faster than you can blink your eyes. My estimated wait time is FIVE MINUTES? Right. Is that in dog years? Maybe that's why they needed to verify that you, in fact, have a pet dog, so you'll have a full understanding of the situation.

You may be frustrated by now, but it's OK. The corporate entity that is neither ITunes nor EBay has carefully selected a pleasant musical arrangement to entertain you while you wait. It's likely "Tiny Dancer" by Elton John, as interpreted by the National Pan Flute Orchestra of Myanmar, with accompaniment by Yanni. This is, of course, my favorite version of this song.

OK, so after being on hold for several days and having meticulously mapped out a Yanni assassination plot, you finally hear a joyous ringing, shortly followed by an actual human voice! "Hello, this is Xdugxzrlm, how can I assist you today?" Your excitement is quickly tempered by the realization that this person is not from your country, or even your planet, but is actually calling from a telephone control center located in the distant galaxy of Voltoon. No problem, you simply whip out your Voltoonese-to-English dictionary and follow along, all the while wondering why Donald couldn't just stay on the line and help you. It's now that Xdugxzrlm asks you to repeat all the personal information that you had previously entered into the automated system. (What does a fax to Voltoon cost, you wonder.) OK...back from Kinko's again. Now, if you've somehow angered God recently, comes the part where you may be inclined to slit your wrists, if you've made it this far. Xdugxzrlm sincerely wants to help you, but he(?) regretfully informs you that, as he is in the Completely Useless and Helpless Department, he will not be able to sufficiently resolve your particular problem. This of course, falls under the jurisdiction of the Giant Vacuum of Nonexistence Department, to which Xdugxzrlm will so helpfully transfer you. Yes, the DREADED transfer. We all know where these phone calls then go. But wait, Xdugxzrlm is on the ball today! He(?) astutely thinks to give you the direct line to the GVN Dept., just "in case" you get disconnected. Nevermind the fact that this number consists of only 5 digits, some of which you may not recognize from any alpha-numeric system on Earth.

Next: "CLICK." Two seconds later, your phone spontaneously combusts. But no worries, as you can take comfort in knowing that you've by now likely forgotten all about the fact that your most recent ITunes purchase did not download correctly. So that's one problem you won't have to tackle today.

Moral of the story: Thank God we don't have those stupid rotary dial phones any more!

It's Official: Daughtry is Awesome

My days of buying full albums, like millions of other music fans, have long since past. Occasionally, there will be a gem that is worth popping the $10-$14 for, but for the most part, CDs have always contained 3-7 tracks that warrant repeated listening. It's only now with digital downloading that we have the option of purchasing only those 3-7 songs. Hey, if an album has 7 great songs, then I consider it a really solid work, but it's still not going to convince me to spend $12 as opposed to $7. So, these days, a CD has to be pretty much flawless to warrant picking up the whole shebang. Enter, Chris Daughtry, American Idol finalist and bald dude extraordinaire (I seem to have an unintentional affinity for the music of bald guys - the psychoanalysts can determine what this says about me). I purchased 6 tracks from Daughtry's debut album back in early '07. All of those songs were amazing, but still, there were some throwaway songs on the CD (not counting lead single "It's Not Over," which I like, but simply do not need to ever hear again). With his 2nd offering, "Leave This Town" coming up for release, I was expecting a letdown. Typically when an album hooks me on an artist, it's not unusual for the next album to suck. I was able to listen to the full pre-release on vh1.com and was pleasantly surprised. Dare you to find a below-average song on this thing. Yeah, a lot of Daughtry's songs sound similar, but that's the case with many, many artists. The key is to have a penchant for melody, keep the energy level consistent and not get all experimental on our asses. The new Daughtry CD, now out, simply rocks from start to finish. Well worth the $10 (pretty cheap!) for the full CD on ITunes (sans bonus tracks). In a move that can only be explained using Apple logic, ITunes offers the deluxe album for $13 (a $3 difference, for those of you scoring at home), which does include the two additional songs...however, if you purchase them individually, they're $1.29 each = $2.58. OK, so they also throw in the video for lead single, "No Surprise," but honestly people, you can watch videos for free on Youtube. So yeah, Daughtry rocks...Apple - not so much.

Off the Wall

It's the title of Michael Jackson's 1979 solo album. It could also be used to describe his behavior and lifestyle from that point on. Or to describe the level of journalistic responsibility displayed by the media in reporting on his death. Or, simply to describe the fact that his father, Joe, has seemingly gotten a free pass on the suspected abuse he inflicted upon his kids. There have been some details over the years of how he whipped the boys, with Joe even admitting it himself. But, I have a feeling the truth goes way deeper than a leather belt. You don't turn into what Michael Jackson did without some pretty dark demons lurking in the shadows. Of course, Joe Jackson can't be held solely responsible...legions of golddiggers and power-hungry leeches throughout the entertainment industry hitched their wagons to Jackson's star and undoubtedly manipulated him, all while the mounting fame and untenable media exposure probably had a crushing effect on someone who was likely a fragile individual to begin with. Not to say that he was completely defenseless, but I don't think anyone can truly understand the world this guy lived in. He was quite bizarre, but also many of the "wacko" stories were fabricated and leaked to the media by Jackson himself. And were the sexual abuse allegations true? We'll likely never know for sure. Would it be surprising to learn that Jackson inflicted abuse on a child, given his own history? No need to recite the textbook cycles of abuse. But, as during his lifetime, the media continues its gross irresponsibility in reporting on the death of the King of Pop. You can see the reporters salivating at the thought that there may be some nefarious activity surrounding the circumstances of his death. Oh my God...what drugs was he taking? Did the doctor inject him? How much was in his system when he died? How many millions of dollars did he owe? Except they don't phrase them as questions...they purport that it's already a forgone conclusion that all kinds of crazy stuff was going on. How about reporting on the one thing that has been glossed over? The hideous nature of Joe Jackson. Time to stop portraying him as a sweet old man and expose him for the lecherous beast that he was and is. One only need to listen to the recording of this past weekend's phone interview with Geraldo Rivera to see the truth. All Joe Jackson could say was that the world had lost its biggest superstar, and that he would be bigger in death than in life. Not one word about missing his son. That's all Michael was to this man: a star...one to which this beast hitched his wagon of failed and unfulfilled personal dreams. One that undoubtedly provided him with a lifestyle he (Joe) didn't deserve.

I've never been the hugest Michael Jackson fan. I'm probably one of five people in the world who has never purchased a single Jackson song. But his legacy is part of many of our childhoods. And the guy contributed more to charity and social causes than probably anyone else in history. Yeah, he was bizarre, but with what he endured, it's incredible that he was simply weird and not dead much, much earlier. Instead, he managed to accomplish the incredible, despite everything that came along with it.

RIP...somehow.

The End of an Era in Music

The last Virgin Megastores in the United States have now closed. With them, and the recent shuttering of the remaining Tower Records' stores, goes a piece of our youth. It represents an unbelievably unceremonious end of an era in the music business. As someone who is just entering the industry, the landmark occasion, if you can call it that, carries a heavy significance. My early adolescence through my early adulthood was marked by frequent trips to the record store...The Wiz, Tower Records, Coconuts, and later on...Virgin. As I developed a stronger interest in music, and more importantly, the ability to drive, these trips became part of my weekly routine. Other kids were playing sports or whaling away on a Nintendo controller...I was at the record store...especially after the advent of the in-store listening station. What a concept...you could listen to the entire album BEFORE you bought it! I don't know if the digital revolution represents progress or not, but ITunes and others should wake up - the thirty-second sample does me absolutely no good whatsoever. Nothing will replace the experience of spending a couple hours in the record store, meticulously calculating what my next incredible music purchase would be. At one time, my dream was to open my own record store. In crafting that fantasy, I tried to think ahead of the curve; to figure out how I would make my store bigger and better than any that had come before. Little could I know then that it was a pointless endeavor. I was chasing a dinosaur, an old relic, a memory of an era near its end. Oh well...guess I'll dream in digital now.

MLB Draft

Stephen Strasburg is projected to be the #1 draft pick in the upcoming Major League Baseball amateur draft. He's already being proclaimed one of the hardest-throwing pitchers ever, has been linked to psycho-agent, Scott Boras, and is expected to be asking somewhere around $50 million to sign with whichever team takes him (presumably the Nationals). This is all before ever having thrown a pitch in the minor leagues, much less the majors. I sincerely hope the Nationals pay the $50 million. I also hope the franchise collapses within the next 5 years, while Strasburg watches from home, his blown out arm now useless for any professional-level sport. No, I don't really wish that fate on Strasburg or anyone else. But something has got to happen to give MLB a severe wake-up call. Has anyone bothered to check the history of first-round pitchers in the draft? Sure, there are the occasional gems like Roy Halladay. And young guys like David Price and Luke Hochevar still have a chance to turn in stellar careers. But anyone know where Bryan Bullington is? Mark Prior? How about the other 3 pitchers who went in the Top 5 of the 2002 draft along with Bullington - Chris Gruler, Adam Loewen and Clint Everts? All future hall of famers, right? I'd venture a guess that the majority of pitchers who go on to lengthy MLB careers are picked in the middle of the draft. Jake Peavy - 15th round. Roy Oswalt - 23rd round. Andy Pettitte - 22nd round. John Smoltz - 22nd round. Johan Santana wasn't even in the regular draft. He was signed by the Astros as an undrafted free agent. The fact of the matter is, pitching is too unpredictable of a position to risk anything close to $50 million on one college player. Throwing hard does not, by itself, punch your ticket to the hall of fame. In fact, it can often be the downfall that prevents many talented kids from ever throwing a pitch in the major leagues. The injury risk with pitchers is too great to be able to tell in advance who is going to make it. The body motion required to be a pitcher in baseball runs is simply unnatural and puts undue pressure on the muscular and skeletal framework of the arm. Go out and try whipping your arm in that motion 90-100 times in a row over a 3-hour period every 5 days for an extended period of time and see what kind of condition you're in. All the physical conditioning in the world can't always offset the longterm effects of the torture these kids inflict on their arms.

So I really wish the best of luck to Strasburg. But if I were the President of a major league ballclub, I would never ever choose a pitcher with my first-round draft pick.

The birth of a company

ProGenitor Entertainment Network is officially up and running. As I attempt to launch my own business, after years of apprehension and excuses, I pause to reflect upon the meaning of life. No, actually, the pause is just me holding my breath as I dive headfirst into this pitch black ocean and hope I know what the hell I'm doing!

I wish I could just skip to the good part and start promoting my sister's CD already. The sneak listen of the halfway produced versions of the three songs have given cause for excitement. But all the annoying setup stuff that has to take place beforehand - dealing with lawyers, Quickbooks, my new and frustrating laptop, applying for business licenses, being bled dry of investment dollars - that stuff, I could do without.

Hopefully, next year at this time, some good shit will have happened.

The A-Hole Gene

Another biological mystery for our world's most accomplished scientists and researchers to unravel. If they can decode the human genome, maybe they can determine what causes people to be A-Holes. I feel lucky not to have been cursed with the gene that causes this affliction. Unfortunately, this is an insidious disease that wreaks havoc on others' lives.

Say, for instance, you are a tenant living in a house owned by someone else. Say that you have paid your rent on time for 3+ years, kept the place in great condition and generally have caused no headaches for your landlord. Then, without warning, the A-Hole gene kicks in. You fall behind on rent by almost two months. Then, after several months of your landlord trying to work with you, you decide to break your lease and move back to A-Hole-ville...I mean, California. You give your landlord 5 days notice, and set a day/time for him to come and inspect the condition of the house and collect keys/garage remotes/back rent from you. And finally, to cap off months of A-Holity, you bolt before the arranged meeting time, leaving the house in precarious condition, taking the keys (to the locks on the doors, which you had changed without informing the landlord, who is now locked out of his own f-ing house), garage remotes and money with you.

Do everyone a favor please, and donate your body to science so we can isolate this malicious gene and spare future mankind a lot of heartache.