Tag: rant

Upselling Run Amok

My mom and I saw Divergent this afternoon (but more on that in a minute).

I always accompany my mom to the concession stand when we go to the movies, both to help carry her purchases and to make sure that I get what I want. This shouldn’t be difficult, but it is. Because heaven forbid the kid working the concession stand at the AMC Theatre actually sell me a fucking small soda.

I literally have trouble carrying any of their sodas bigger than a small and even the small is ginormous. But no, they don’t want to sell me a small soda; I must upgrade it. And it’s even worse because my mom is a member of the AMC Stubs program, which provides free upgrades for popcorn and sodas. So I end up practically having to yell at these kids that I understand I could get a larger soda for the same price, I just don’t want one. I literally told the girl today to stop trying to upsell me. (This was after her second attempt to coerce me into upgrading my soda.)

I understand that your manager has drilled into your head that you must always upsell, but at some point you should respect the customer as a human being who knows her own fucking mind. I mean, when I worked at the record store we were always supposed to try to get the customer to buy more than one item. And I’d suggest one of the dumb things we had at the register (disc repair kits and whatnot) if somebody came up with one CD. But if the customer was already buying multiple things I’d keep my mouth shut; I was getting my multi-sale so why harass the customer.

Hiccups at the concession stand aside, it was a lovely trip to the movies. Here’s a thing I hadn’t known going in, though: Divergent is a long-ass movie. And it felt even longer. I don’t know how they took such a well-paced page-turner of a book and turned it into a plodding movie, but they did. I think my mom liked it more than I did. (I think it helped that it wasn’t Hunger Games-level violent.) There were parts I really loved, even during the boring parts of the movie (most of them involved Four, because duh). But then there were things where I thought, “that’s not how it happened” (most of them involved Jeanine Matthews – I guess if you get Kate Winslet for your movie, you use her as much as possible). And there were things that I expected to see because they come up in the other books that weren’t in Divergent at all. So I don’t know how that’s going to be resolved in the other movies.

One thing that really bothered me was that I couldn’t tell Will and Al apart. This is not a problem I had reading the book. And the more I think about it, the more I wonder why they bothered including Al; they could’ve saved a few minutes without him and the film wouldn’t have been materially different.

I know I’m mostly complaining about the movie, but I really did like it. I just think they could’ve done better. And I have no idea if my opinion matches the Internet’s general opinion because I haven’t bothered to see what people thought. At the very least it’s good to know that it was one of the nine films this year that passed the Bechdel test.

One last thing about Divergent: my mom kinda didn’t believe me when I told her that Four was played by the same actor who played Downton Abbey‘s ill-fated Mr. Pamuk 🙂

Until tomorrow.

Are You Kidding Me?

Santa got me a Fitbit Force for Christmas (mostly ’cause I’d asked for one). I loved it; I wore it nearly 24/7 for almost three full months and never had a problem with it. But I got an email yesterday that I have to send it back because it was recalled. Jerks.

I understand that some people developed allergic reactions and rashes and whatnot and, obviously, those people should be compensated. But why recall it from people like myself who had no problems? Oh, they’ll give me a refund when I return it. It’s a funny thing, though: I don’t want a refund; I want to keep my Fitbit Force. Because if you think I’m going to use that refund to buy a Fitbit Flex, you’re a giant idiot. Fitbit can kiss the fattest part of my butt. (Man, that loses something when I can’t swear.)

Here’s my other issue with the way Fitbit is handling this problem: that email informing me about the recall did not come from Fitbit, it came from some third party. Which means that Fitbit gave this third party my email address. I’m pretty sure I never consented to that. Jerks.

I’ll miss my Fitbit Force. So thanks again, Fitbit, for forcing me to give it up even though I’ve had no issues. Giant jerks.

Until tomorrow.


I received notification that I will be issued a new credit card because I used my credit card at Target during that dangerous hacked period after Thanksgiving. Never mind that in the two months since Target was hacked there has been no fraudulent activity on my card. (I know because I’ve checked.) Nope, I’m getting completely fucked over by my credit card bank anyway.

See, the credit card in question was (please note the use of past tense) my everyday card; I used it for everything. Including online purchases and recurring payments and a billion other things that I now have to update the billing information for. If my credit card bank had decided to issue me a new credit card shortly after the Target hack was announced I would’ve understood; it would’ve sucked, but I wouldn’t have gotten mad. But waiting two months (during which time I fooled myself into thinking I was probably in the clear) to give me a new card pissed me the hell off and that bank can go fuck itself.

I’ll be using a new everyday card from now on, thankyouverymuch. I mean, if I have to change my billing information anyway, I may as well change it to a card I already have on hand.

Until tomorrow.

Bad Kristin Is Bad

I am back in sunny Florida after spending the weekend at my brother and sister-in-law’s in south Jersey. My mom and I were up there for my SIL’s baby shower. I didn’t say anything about it beforehand out of a superstitious belief that if I mentioned it then it wouldn’t happen. And I feel justified in that belief because it was only pure dumb luck that allowed us to travel with almost no hitches.

If we had planned to fly up on Thursday the flight would’ve been cancelled and we probably wouldn’t have gotten there until Saturday. But our flight was on Friday and Friday was pretty gorgeous. We also had good weather for our flight home on Sunday. I will say this, though: if you’re a person who lugs a giant, overstuffed roller bag that barely fits in the overhead compartment onto an airplane, go fuck yourself. And then die, you giant piece of shit. (My mom and I had one very small roller bag between us, and both times it got gate-checked because “there’s no more room in the overhead compartments.” That also turned out to be bullshit both times; fuck you, US Airways.)

I intended to blog from my brother’s house, but I went to bed super early both nights due to extreme tiredness. And then I didn’t feel like blogging when I got home yesterday, either. But I’m back now 🙂

Until tomorrow.

The Continuing Saga Of The Moron

You guys remember the moron with a name similar to mine who is (apparently) unable to type her own email address correctly, right? Have I told you that she is getting married? Because she is. And I know where. Because her wedding coordinator keeps emailing me.

Every few months I get an email from her wedding coordinator and I dutifully tell them they’re emailing the wrong person. (I wouldn’t bother but I think a wedding is kind of important.) I don’t hear back so I assume that they’ve learned the error of their ways. But a few months later the cycle repeats. Well, it happened again yesterday and I replied and that should have been that. Except this morning I got another email from the wedding coordinator.

“I apologize if I’m emailing the wrong person, but are you not the Kristin [redacted] getting married at [redacted]?”

What in the actual fuck is that? Do you think I’m gonna say, “ha ha, I was just fucking with you, of course I’m the Kristin you’re looking for?” Because that was obviously not going to happen. As I said in my most recent reply, why the hell would I go out of my way to tell you you’re emailing the wrong person if I’m getting married at your location, you fucking idiot?

These morons deserve each other.

Until tomorrow.

It’s Not That Hard

A shocking number of people at my office have no idea how to hold a door open for another person. This bothers me because these people are, ostensibly, adults working at a bank’s corporate headquarters. And yet they can’t hold a fucking door open without getting in the way in the process. Here’s a tip: if you have to stand in the middle of the fucking doorway to hold the door open, maybe just give it up as a bad job.

I shouldn’t have to squeeze through half of the fucking door because your dumb ass is being noble or some shit. There’s even been times when I’ve said, “oh, I’ve got it, thanks,” only to have the jackass continue to hold the door open with his entire fucking body. (It should be noted that I said I had the door because I had the door, but apparently I was lying or something because the guy continued to hold it as well. Creepy fucking bastard.)

And I’m starting to get creeped out the more I think about this door thing. Blah.

Until tomorrow.

The Worst

Is there anything worse than your commute being demonstrably worse than usual For No Discernible Reason? I think not.

Allow me to demonstrate: On a perfect day my commute should take less than 45 minutes, but there’s no such thing as a perfect day during rush hour. I accept that. My commute is normally about an hour, which isn’t really so bad. On Thursday it was two hours due to the two separate accidents that reduced travel down to one lane of traffic. (Which was really, really bad when four lanes had to merge into one.) On Friday it was about 50 minutes because the universe took pity on me (or something). This morning it was almost two hours and I’ll be damned if I can figure out why.

And that’s the thing. When I saw the accidents on Thursday I felt better about the clusterfuck-y traffic because at least there was a reason traffic was fubar. But when I got to the office today I was seething because I was late to work for no reason that I could see.

And I give myself 90 minutes to get to work even though it should never take that long, so if my commute is going to take more than 90 minutes there had better be a fucking reason.

Until tomorrow.