The Streetcar Chronicles

I had a lovely experience on the TTC this afternoon. I was getting on a streetcar on my way home during rush hour. It was a bit tricky since I had a grocery bag full of items I had picked up and I had my backpack that I’d removed off of my shoulder to make it easier to navigate the crowded streetcar.

I flashed my metropass at the driver and then put it in my coat pocket while trying to juggle the two bags in my hands. “Behind the line,” the driver said.

I shifted where I was to get a better vantage point of how full the car was so that I could begin walking through it. That’s when it happened.

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Dear Vortex;

Perhaps it’s time we cleared things up. You and I are not friends; we were never really friends and the more time I’ve spent with you, the clearer it is you and I are never going to be friends. What does that makes us? Co-workers. And you know what co-workers do? They knock before coming into each other’s offices and work stations. They talk about the work they’re contributing to a project and leave it at that. Do you know what co-workers don’t do?

They don’t sneak up on someone and then stand around reading what’s on the person’s screen. They don’t pop up every ten minutes with mundane questions about why their cell phone is dropping calls. Especially when one person is working to meet a deadline. Most importantly, co-workers don’t share the intimate details of their private lives. When Natalie, Charlie and I go on our coffee run do you hear any of us talk about the details of what happens in our bedrooms? No, so what makes you think we want to hear about what happens in yours?

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When I last wrote about Dell, I was wondering whether my computer would be shipped out on time. After all of the runaround I went through with Alexis the sales rep, I was willing to bet good money that the machine would not be shipping out on the promised date of October 14th. During my last telephone conversation with Alexis, she assured me that I would be getting an automated e-mail from Dell and one from her letting me know that the machine was shipped.

Imagine my surprise when I received an automated phone call from Purolator letting me know the tracking number for my Dell package on the 13th. Curious, I went online and entered the tracking number to find out where the package was at. I immediately noticed that Purolator picked up the package from Dell on the 12th, two days before it was supposed to go out. This was good news. The problem? Where were the two e-mails I was supposed to have gotten from Dell and Alexis? Considering that the tracking information showed the package was due in Toronto in the next few days, I let it slide. As long as it was delivered to my office, as I was promised, everything else would be gravy.

Guess where the computer was delivered to? If you answered my office, you’d be wrong.

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I was going to wait I had the new computer before posting about the shitty experience I had ordering it. But it’s a quiet day around here as we’re off work for the holiday.

Since my current computer is a Dell and it lasted me over four years without giving me any problems, I figured I’d go with them again. It turns out that my employer has a corporate discount of five percent which was just another reason to go with Dell again.

I got the name of the company’s contact at Dell- Mark-and e-mailed him explaining what I was looking for. Since my last purchase, Dell has obviously made changes to their line-up of models so I had some questions about which model I should get.

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I had something else I was ready to post about when I got home, but upon arriving home, I saw a notice on my mailbox which I just knew was going to cause me a headache. The notice was from UPS letting me know that they had been at the house but unable to obtain a signature from me. I had ordered some dock inserts from Bose on Friday and they shipped out the same day. Since S and I work 9-5, neither one of us was home to sign for the package. While the gal pal is smart, we’ve not yet got her trained to open the door and sign for things.

I came inside from the stifling heat and glanced over the delivery notice. The check boxes indicated that UPS would be returning tomorrow, between 2 and 5pm. Somehow, I don’t think that’s enough time to train the dog to take care of the package delivery. I called the 1-800 number on the back of the slip to arrange for either a different delivery time or to change the address to my office so that I could be sure I’d be around to sign for it.

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