"We believe in nothing, Lebowski."

This weekend we celebrated Phil’s birthday by throwing a Big Lebowski Birthday Bash. We created a bowling lane in the backyard, set up a “movie screen” (it was a sheet stapled to the entrance of the garage), and watched the movie sitting on the rug in the back yard. We even created our very own Big Lebowski drinking game. Here are the rules.

Everyone must drink when the following things happen:
1. When the dude drinks
2. Anytime there are bare breasts
3. When a strike is bowled
4. When you spot a VW bug
Then, Dan went through the script and picked out key phrases or words that happen often in the movie, e.g. “Jackie Treehorn”, “Amateur”, and “Shut up, Donny”. He printed out the phrases on slips of paper and we each drew from a mug. Each person was required to drink when their word or phrase was uttered. It was very funny.

Costumes were also encouraged. Someone came as "the rug" and we had a few nihilists. Dan, Piper and I spent the afternoon designing our costumes. Can you guess who we were from the movie? See more pictures here.
I think that we will have to have a yearly Lebowski Fest from now on. The white Russians were flowing, and a great time was had by all. Happy Birthday Phil!

Customer Service

When I am at work, I sit next to the woman who takes all customer complaints for the whole company. She took a call from a customer at least fifteen minutes ago and I haven’t heard her say one word yet. I liked to imagine the other side of the call, the side I can’t hear. I like to try to imagine the most outrageous things that an irate customer could say. I bet the things in my imagination are not even half as good as the real thing.

She is still sitting there silent. Is the customer screaming at her, or perhaps just reading her a 14 page long list of complaints. Maybe she is happy and can’t stop talking about the merits and great qualities of this company. Oh no, I just heard, “well if it important to you, then it is important to us. We want to hear your concerns.” Yikes, that can’t be good; and after all of this silence. It is making me nervous.

Working in customer service takes a certain type of patience. I remember the first time I got an irate customer call. I was working for a large bookstore and I picked up the phone to stop its incessant ringing when I was greeted by an angry voice. I can’t really remember what the customer was yelling at me about, but by the end of it I was flustered and close to tears. “Why does he hate me so much?” I thought. That was my first lesson in customer service. What seems like such a personal interaction because emotions are involved is actually not personal at all; you just happen to be the person on the other end of the problem and got lucky enough to answer the phone.

I felt pretty confident after I figured that out, although there were still scary times. Like almost getting assaulted by the drunk in the music department singing obscene lyrics in front of the kids section, or the time that the bipolar customer starting pulling out his hair and then smashed the front door on his way out. Most of the time customers just want to be heard, they just want to vent.

That must be what is happening on the phone in the cube next to me. It sounds like she is just trying to vent. Now my cube neighbor is waving her arms in the arm, and shooting the phone the middle finger. And yet her voice remains so level and patient as she consoles and reassures that we will do all that we can to please her. Amazing. It takes a certain kind of person.

Virginia is for Funerals

The last time I was in Virginia I ended up getting stuck in two, count them, two massive funerals. Yesterday I was driving home from Richmond and I got stuck in the middle of yet another funeral. At first I thought there was an accident up ahead as I saw flashing lights, but as I eased down the hill, the flashing red and blues moved slowly forward. I didn’t think much about it, although I was cursing my luck for getting stuck in a traffic jam. The traffic began to thin out and as I crested another hill I saw the cop again, this time on the other side of the road, blocking traffic so that a massive line of cars could cut across traffic and off of the highway. I whisked by in the left hand lane and it was only as I raced irreverently past them mourners and glanced into a car that I actually realized what was happening. Another funeral; and in Virginia of all places. I am staying out of that state from now on.