mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Canadian Borg)
There is nothing more anxiety-producing for me than to receive a message on my phone saying that the person wants to talk to me about something, but won't say what.

Rationally, I know that it's probably nothing bad.

However, being the kind of person I am, I immediately start worrying about it. What could it mean? What could it be about? Clearly, if they didn't want to leave a clear message, then it must be Very Very Bad. After all, I live alone: there's no reason not to say whatever you want on my answering machine. No one will hear it but me.

The only thing I can do to save my sanity is not think about it, except that it keeps creeping back and shouting "Boo!" at me every so often.

Right now I just want to get this damned theoretical phone conversation over with. Actually, I have two of those pending.

It makes me long for the good old days when I ignored my phone for weeks at a time.
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Recycle!)
It's ridiculously difficult to get in touch with anyone who might have red wriggler worms to sell.

Eco-quartier is closed from Friday to Sunday, inclusively.

The other number I tried (I was told "worm swap" but it's somewhere else) said they wouldn't have worms until April.

Worm Swap didn't answer their phone.

Sustainable Concordia didn't answer their phone.

Pousse-menu answered, but only after I tried three times (every 15 minutes).


So I'm off to Pousse-menu later today. I'm going to take a shower, hie myself to Best Buy for a camera, and then to Pousse-menu for worms. I hope their worms aren't as stupidly expensive as the other stuff, because I am leery of the prices listed on their website. They're selling the whole worm-kit for over $70, whereas I paid $13 for my box. Yeah.

GIP for environmental stuff!

Okay, shower.
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Woe. And darkness. And teh sad.)
I. give. right. the fuck. up.

*cries*


There seems to be some kind of major fucking law in the universe that states "Phnee's life shall never go smoothly. There must always be a source of stress of some kind."

*sigh*

Dec. 6th, 2006 03:51 pm
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Vodka gods)
My phone isn't working.

More specifically, I can't seem to make outgoing calls. I have yet to test whether I can hear anything if I can answer the phone, but I have no dial tone on my phone. All I get is static.

I have received a couple of calls which at the time I let go to my answering machine, and that seems to have worked fine.

I don't have time for this. Not now, not for several months. This problem had better fix itself by the time I get home tomorrow morning.


Also, I really, really wish LJ would stop acting up all the time. I get constant "database busy" messages, and one time out of three it doesn't post my entries (like just now) but simply refreshes my "update LJ" page. No, thank you: if I wanted to refresh, I would have hit "refresh" and not "update."

:::ETA:::

And now LJ seems to have randomly eaten 3 of my icons.

I give up.
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Terse)
After promising myself I would call the two emergency-dispatch jobs and inquire today, I went back and looked more closely at the job offers, so that I would know what I was talking about when I called and sound oh-so-together-and-on-the-ball.

Except, neither job offer includes a phone number. :::headdesk:::

What I thought were phone numbers at first glance are in fact fax numbers. So it seems I worked myself into a state of "Oh-my-God-I-have-to-use-the-PHONE!" for nothing.

For those of you who are relatively new to this LJ (I think there are a couple of you) and who are scratching their heads wondering: "If she has a phone phobia, why the hell does she want to work in a call centre?" allow me to explain the funky ways in which Phnee's mind works.

Almost all my jobs, no, strike that, all my jobs have involved considerable phone use. I have no problem with phones, answering them or calling out, as long as I have a Large Corporation to back me up. When I worked for Bell Mobility, I wasn't Phnee answering the phone or calling people to harass them. I was a Representative of Bell Mobility™. See? That means it's not personal. If people yelled, they were yelling at Bell Mobility, and not at me.

Also, I have remarkably good phone skills, professionally speaking. I have talked down so many clients from so many metaphorical ledges, it's not even funny. I know exactly what kind of tone to adopt with people that will make them relate to me, even like me, and therefore trust me. They stop yelling. They speak more quietly. They remember that they're dealing with another human being who doesn't deserve to have them vent their frustrations on them in this way. But I never, ever reproach them for doing it. On the contrary, I usually encourage them: "That's okay. I know it's not personal, and that you're really frustrated by this. I understand. In your shoes, I'd be frustrated and yelling too." Funny how that makes them stop yelling even faster. :)

The trick is that you actually have to care about the caller, even if you don't know them and will likely never speak to them again. They can sense if you care, believe it or not. On my off days, when I didn't want to be at work and didn't want to give a damn about my clients, I had less good results. It makes for pretty exhausting days, though, caring about everyone who calls. But having happy callers is a hell of an ego-boost.

It's a gift. I try to use it only for good. :)

Using the phone on my own power, however, is an entirely different kettle of fish. I far prefer going places in person. I am *very* good in interviews. I am well-spoken, articulate, and I *look* professional. Sometimes that doesn't always come through on the phone. On the phone I turn into a stuttering, blithering mess. I trip over my own tongue, I lose my words, and the little voice at the back of my mind goes into a loop: "Why are you wasting these people's time? Why are you bothering? Who are you to be calling and taking up space?" etc. Going in person helps, because I can usually gauge by body language if the little voice in my head is right or not (it usually isn't).

Okay. I've sent off one email. The harder one. The one for the actual 911 job. The other one is for a security company which is closer to home. The 911 job would be in St. Eustache, which is WAY the hell gone and, as far as I can tell, not close to anything remotely like public transit. On the off-chance that I do get the job, it's going to be hellishly complicated to get there. :P

Now I have to send my CV to this other job. Wish me luck!

*thunk*

Sep. 18th, 2006 09:53 pm
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Dead Baby Possum)
Home now. Returned car to Paternal Unit, got a ride home. Tired now. Fourteen-hour days are da bomb. Yeah, that must be it.

Still not caught up on work. Was catching up, then more work happened. Funny how that happens.

I bought myself a phone with an answering machine yesterday. Now people can call and actually leave me messages. The one tiny drawback is that the mic on the answering machine isn't very good, so my recording sounds muffled. I can hear everything else just fine, though, so I'm happy to live with that minor inconvenience. Hey, maybe I'll have messages when I check later! Exciting.

Going to bed now. Gotta be up in seven hours.

Don't know how people manage with so little sleep. I really don't.
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Death by shinies!)
Elizabeth Peters is an evil, evil woman. The more I read, the more I want. I got my hands on a copy of "The Falcon At the Portal" and it just about broke my heart in twelve separate pieces. Wah! Nefret! Wah! Ramses! Waaaaaaah!

:::gets stabbed repeatedly in heart by cruel, merciless author:::

I can't begin to imagine how hard it must have been for her to do that to her characters. [livejournal.com profile] owldaughter is entirely to blame for my current heartbreak: she introduced me to the series.


In other news, work is work. I have so many things going on these days that I have no time at all to post about them, and more stuff is piling itself on top of that, and yet I still have to wedge sleep in there somewhere. Sleep-deprived!Phnee is not a fun Phnee, let me tell you.

Let's make a grocery list of stuff that's taking place in Phnee's existence these days:

This got long... )

Anyway, that's what I'm up to these days (and in the near future). I had a lovely chat on the phone with [livejournal.com profile] joane and [livejournal.com profile] shenlo later on. I looked up their number on canada411.com, since for some reason I didn't have it. I'm not much of a phone person as a rule, but I thought it was high time we have a voice-to-voice conversation as opposed to just an online chat. Not that those aren't a great way of communicating, but sometimes it's nice to hear people's voices on the other end of the line. Also, I got to squee in person about Yet Another Fantasy Gamer Comic, which is all to the good. :)

Now I'm going to bed. Might post a poll about the aforementioned filter first, but then definitely bed. :)
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Rar!)
Have I mentioned lately how much I hate phones? It seems to me as though I haven't bitched about them in a while. Phones are hateful contraptions that ring when you're trying to get other stuff done. We hates them, precious, yesss...

I just tried to pick up the phone in the office, but it sits right under my counter, and if I'm sitting the wrong way (ie, trying to do something else), then the receiver catches on the lip of the counter and sends the whole thing flying. Which is what happened just now.

:::sends vibes of hatred toward the phone:::

While I'm at it:

Dear Rude Bike Messenger-Guy,

Being rude is a no-no. I don't know you and you don't know me, so let's keep the discourse civilised. There is no need to "tutoyer" me, nor is there any reason for you to snap at me to sign "legibly."

I realise, of course, that you have no way of knowing what my signature looks like before I've signed. As it happens, I sign receipts in block letters. I find it annoying that you automatically assume that it won't be legible, but that's not the real issue.

The real issue is your tone and your whole attitude. There is no need to be rude, as I said, and there is certainly no need to act as though I'm wasting your time. Your time is *never* wasted serving a customer efficiently and courteously. I did not reprimand you because I'm a bitch, I did so because you are providing me with poor service, while I in turn started out by being friendly and professional.

Please assimilate this lesson before coming again, thank you.

No love,

Me

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