What's Next?

Parenting Test

Please read the following questions carefully before answering.

Question #1:

If it is -14C (7F) outside and you must go shopping in a large fabric store in Helsinki and you have with you one baby and one dog, what do you do with the baby?

Question #2:

What do you do with the dog?

Please understand that I have never claimed to be a great parent but even I knew the right answer to that one.

DHL - Just Say No!

I figure that if I mention the company name DHL courier service enough times in this post, it might just get a hit on one of the various search engines when some poor, unassuming, trusting soul is searching for a reliable way to get gifts to his or her family.

DHL should NEVER be used by anyone EVER AGAIN. Recent security, watch lists, federalis, and the sort make stating what I would really like to do to DHL a little risque but I will say that I would love to see them lose a little business. DHL refused, stole or damaged everything that I tried to send for Christmas to my Dad and his family.

I do a lot of traveling with work on the continents to the east of the Atlantic ocean and one of the great perks is my ability to pick up some pretty unique offerings from various countries. My Dad's Christmas box included chocolates from Belgium, fudge from Ireland, a small handmade knife from Finland, a 2010 calendar from the United Nations, a couple of small handmade jewelry boxes from Russia and a really incredible Cyrillic Russian Aviator watch. The box that my Dad received on December 31st (guaranteed pre-Christmas delivery) was not the same box that left my hands on December 18th and now had two opened and broken jewelry boxes, and an EMPTY watch box.... that's all.

I thought that DHL was going to be my saviour when, once again, I had procrastinated myself into a corner. As of Friday, December 18th, they could still guarantee pre-Christmas delivery from The Netherlands to Canada so I followed their online ordering process which included box dimensions, weight and contents. The contents were also clearly listed on two sides of the box when the pick-up dude came to my door to pick up the package a few hours later. For a mere €86, my Dad was going to receive a 10x10x2 inch box that weighed less than 3 pounds; what a deal!

Three days later, I received the first call from Bob of DHL customer service (oxymoron). I was more than a little surprised to find out that the package was still seven kilometres from my house and that they needed a little more information. There was an online invoice form for the contents that they needed. One very patient sigh and I sent it within an hour. Bob said that my parcel was still going to go out and would still make it to my Dad by the 24th but, by the way, "how long is the knife blade." It is a fixed blade less than 3 inches long... Bob said that this was fine.

Hours pass..... Bob called again and said that DHL would not transport the knife as it could be considered a weapon. I had actually read on the DHL website how to properly package a knife for shipping with their couriers and checked Canada Customs for any restrictions; there were none. Bob of DHL had nothing more to add. I said that if he was unable to help me, when could I expect my package to be returned to me so that I could find another way to get my Dad's gifts to him. Bob of DHL customer service fame then told me that I would have to come and retrieve it since there were CONTRABAND items contained within!

I will not attempt to bore with the ensuing conversations but it ended with me requesting the contact information of someone in DHL who was actually concerned about the loss of a little bit of business. Bob's response: "No."

Mine, "Pardon?"

Bob of DHL, may the fleas of a thousand camels thrive in your crotch and may your fingers turn into fishing hooks.

Chapter 2, remediation at the DHL warehouse in Den Haag. When I went to the DHL warehouse to retrieve the parcel, I asked to see a supervisor for an explanation as to why the parcel could not be sent with DHL and why it took them so long to figure it out. Simple requests, one would think. The DHL warehouse guy called down Antoine, a very good person for the customer complaint receiving position as he was soft-spoken and all too agreeable. The package had been opened and resealed, apparently in the presence of the sending customer (that's me). Hmmmmm.... I think I would have remembered that.

I don't know what the DHL Package Annihilators were looking for when they took a box cutter to my Dad's commercially packaged Belgian chocolates or what it is they can find by feel when they squish a box of Irish Fudge but, apparently they were satisfied because the watch, two jewelry boxes and the knife were all still in their Christmas wrap. Antoine found nothing in writing banning the small ornamental knife but said that "Security" said no. He did at that time tell me that he could send the remainder of the items by "DHL's fastest means possible", he would spank the crazy box-cutter wielding chocolate wrecker and my Dad would have the parcel by noon on the 28th; not Christmas but something, I guess.

So, in case you are wondering how a package travels from Den Haag, The Netherlands to Windsor, Ontario, Canada, wonder no more. A pigeon would have taken a more direct route, would have been there in less than thirteen days and would not have stolen my Dad's watch.

Wassenaar to Den Haag to Amsterdam to Brussels to Amsterdam (yes, again) to Leipzig (Germany) to Cincinnati to Hamilton to Windsor to Leamington. This makes it much easier for DHL to conduct a thorough theft investigation, I'm sure. But wait.... DHL can't start that investigation yet because they are closed for four days for New Year's; January 1st (only one day on my calendar, not four).

It seriously makes me ill to think of how my Dad must have felt to have finally received his Christmas gift, seen the beautiful wooden box and opened it to find only the manual and warranty card and no watch.

To the DHL employee who stole my Dad's watch; my greatest wish is for you to see each movement of the hand as one minute closer to Karmic retribution. You are the first person upon which I have sincerely wished a disastrous finale.

I Neeeed This

This is the Microdrone....your eye in the Sky.

"Communicate.  Collaborate.  Control."

Everything I need.  Except for the Communicate and Collaborate part.  If someone out there could fund-raise or something for me, I would really appreciate it.

Shopping Beyond My Means

Last week I was put up by my employer at the Pan Pacific Hotel in Vancouver.  It is an amazing, 5 star luxury hotel on the waterfront in downtown Vancouver.  I have never stayed in a hotel quite like this one.  Down pillows and duvets, immaculately dressed staff who treat the guests like royalty.  The problem with all of this luxury and attention is that they treated me as though I was entitled and wealthy; which I am neither.  And, I felt that I had to dress up to walk to the ice machine.  Which was a bit of a drag.  Totally not my style.

So, after my first evening of being treated like the princess that I have always strived to become, a totally bizarre transformation took place in the core of my psyche.  I embraced the feeling of entitlement.  Hell, my credit cards have been paid off for weeks now; I really am wealthy.

After my first night of sleeping on the clouds with angels playing harps in the air above me, I woke to a gorgeous man next to me in my king-sized bed telling me it's time to wake up to start my beautiful day.  Well, it was actually the phone ringing with my wake up call.  But, he had a really nice voice.

Now that I am feeling like I belong to a class of citizen that I have only seen in the tabloids, I come to the realization that I need new clothes.  A person of my stature must shop at Holt Renfrew and, with my new scent of the Pan Pacific wafting out of my pores, I immediately attract a Personal Shopper named Gabrielle.  This is true, I can't make this shit up!

I am embarrassed to admit to the delight and elation that I felt as I followed Gabby (we are close now, so I can call her Gabby) through the various designer alcoves as she whipped signature pieces off the racks without missing a long-legged stride.  I felt like I was in a scene from The Devil Wears Prada.  She showed me to a dressing room the size of a small bedroom just off the Gucci suite and asked me if I would like a bottled water; sparkling or flat.  Apparently she knew that I was going to look at the price tags as soon as she closed the door and may need the water.  If Gabby really knew me, she would have offered me wine.

Wow!  Expensive clothes really do fit better.  My advice to all of you....NEVER try them on!

As I strut out in my various ensembles; Gabby is practically applauding, the mirrors are obviously fixed and the personal tailor is standing by with her tape measures and pins.  Now that I am totally playing the part, I float like a gazelle towards my dressing room, flip my hair over my shoulder and point to a rack; "Oh Gabby, would you be a dear and grab me that little red Prada jacket in my size?".

What the Fuck........over!

Princess Kimberly of Fruitvale has now taken over any remaining sanity and therefore any hope at escaping with my dignity intact.  The only solution...... I'll just buy something and head for the nearest door whilst maintaining the facade. 

So, I buy a beautiful $1200.00 red Prada rain jacket, flee to my hotel, try it on 18 times, have a totally fitful sleep in the bed that has now become the enemy, and, return the coat the next day with a huge sigh of relief.

I am, this week, contentedly lazing in a hotel room at the Holiday Inn where I am quite comfortable walking to the ice machine shoeless and braless.  Right where I belong.

Shopping in Europe: A Generation Removed

I don’t think that it’s important if or when I spend money or even how much is spent. What is important is that I am satisfied with what the money was spent on. Hit and miss, really. Sometimes, I can look at a purchase for years and revel in the warmth of realized opportunity and then there are the times that I would rather stick knives in my eyes than look at some horrific mistake that I can’t possibly get rid of because of the money I’ve spent on it.

Enter, stage left, the red gingham high heeled shoes.

 

Of course I didn’t buy these myself! Give your head a shake! I did, however indirectly, pay for them.

My daughter has just returned from Europe; school trip that I have been paying off for a year. My parents sent me to Europe in my high school glory days and I still look fondly at the pictures of my friends standing in front of various statues, fountains, gardens and duomos. Taryn forgot her brand new digital camera in the Jeep before she left. At this moment, beyond the lid of my laptop, I can still appreciate the beautiful 8-piece decanter set made with Venetian glass, hand painted and topped with 24 kt gold leaf that I purchased in Venice and carefully packed and brought back to Canada.  It has made at least 8 moves with me since 1984 and it is as stunning as the day I bought it.

Taryn bought red gingham high-heeled shoes. My Little Baby Prostitute. I try to be a good parent. The first time I saw her making her way across the kitchen in denim Capri pants and a giraffe-like gait, I blew coffee out my nose. Told her that I was just choking for a second after I regained my composure and told her that she looked fabulous.

This morning I told her that I wanted to take some pictures of them. *giggle* She strutted, she posed and then her face darkened and she asked me suspiciously, “You’re not going to try to sell these on Ebay, are you?”

Oh no, My Sweet Princess, not a chance of that.

Can You See the Difference?

Salvador

$9.99 paid

aprox 4 months old

   

Jack

$89.99 paid

aprox. 6 months old now

As much as I can be happy for a friend getting a deal on something, it really blows that I didn't.

I bought Jack for the boy a couple of months ago and, was quite impressed with myself for talking the pet store reptile chick down from $109 to $89 on a creature that was 3 inches long and can be caught in the wild everywhere except Canada.  Yup, I bartered so well on that one, I'm ready for a Tijuana shopping spree.

So, I tell my friend, Sue, what a great pet he is; way easier to take care of than the kids.  She knows this, has an iguana, and is intrigued.  A few days ago, while in a pet store placing a cricket order (for the iguana) she is browsing and sees the cute guy above, Sal, and inquires of the young reptile chick.  Reptile Chick replies confidently, "that's a Salvador Salamander and he is $9.99".  Sue is not one to immediately pounce on the obviously inept.  She will, however, give them a couple of chances to either sink or swim.  This one....like a rock.

Sue tells Reptile Chick that she thinks that this is, in reality, a Leopard Gecko and gives her the opportunity to price check.  The expert proceeds to re-read the writing on the terrarium, turns to Sue and says, "Nope, that's a Salvador Salamander and it is $9.99".  That's two... the panther is circling.

Sue asks Reptile Chick if there is someone else who she should run the price by.  Reptile Chick announces to Sue that there is no one else who she needs to check with and, in fact, she knows her lizards.  Critical error.

Sue got Sal for 10 bucks, her crickets and his current habitat for an extra $8.99.  As happy as she is with her incredible deal, she is fully aware that she can never return to that store after they have completed their next inventory count and find they are short one Leopard Gecko and up a Salamander.