March 21, 2008
I finally had my appointment with the blasted lights people. The evil techie trolls that they are.
I don’t know why I put things like this off for so long. I have no explanation. Sometimes, I am a champion of efficiency, a can decimate a to-do list like a frickin SPARTAN when I want to. And then other times, I don’t know, it’s like I turn into a child again. It reminds me of when I was a teenager and my Mom would ask me things like “Did you get gas in your car yet?” or “Did you wash your outfit for tomorrow yet?” or “Did you brush your teeth yet?” and I’d sit there in my bathrobe and sigh. No Mom, I’m waiting to do all those things, okay? I want to be mad about them later, and then blame it on you, alright?
And the really funny thing is that it’s still happening. My Mom would come over here and be all “So, your lights are still crazy” and I’d be all “Ya” and then she’d say something like “Don’t you have the number for the people who can fix it?” Yes. But you still haven’t fixed it? No Mom, I’m waiting to fix the lights, okay? It gives me something to direct my anger towards. If I FIX the lights, MOM, I might be forced to evaluate what I’m REALLY mad about. And that’s annoying, to talk about feelings. I don’t do feelings, Mom.
Have I mentioned I’m the daughter of a Psychologist?
So aaaaaanyway. After enough time had elapsed that I felt my marriage and family life had suffered a substantial and significant amount of time due to the motion controlled rave lights I refused to fix, I called and made the appointment with the techie trolls. The ghastly incompetent tech bots that they are.
The Receptionist that made the appointment for me asked “And what are we going to be doing for you at this appointment?” and by the end of my incessant rambling response in which I probably offered WAY too much information, she wrote three words down on the work order. Make. It. Stop. And probably made a little side note for the Employee to take along the company tranquilizer.
A couple days go by and every time the lights go on or off by themselves, it’s mixed response of either elation of soon-to-come revenge upon the lights and at the same time, sadness. Sadness, knowing that they would be dead soon at my expense. I didn’t necessarily want them dead, I just maybe wanted them to go live in a different house. That’s all.
Nevertheless, the Techie Troll came. The senseless and incompetent Hitman that he was. I knew it would be a long, drawn out appointment when the guy asked me to sit down so he could go over all the endless possibilities that his company offers. Even after reading his note that all I wanted were normal lights, he still felt I needed to know all about what I was missing out on. And apparently, this lights company, they’re serious about lights. They are a home automation company. Smart lights that aren’t really smart, if you will.
This guy from the home automation company, I had to offer him a glass of water half way through. He was appearing parched after 30 minutes, and counting, of detailing the endless possibilities. It wasn’t just lights, people, it was programs to benefit and protect your life. Lights that dim during a candlelight dinner? Simply press 367! Lights that stay on for 2 minutes? 10 minutes? Excellent! Simply enter 429! Want a beep when the garage door is open? Want a beep when the power goes out? Want the front porch lights to turn themselves on and off with the longitudes and latitudes of the earth’s sunsets and sunrise? Want to call in to your house and open the garage? Or turn off your lights? Want your house to call YOU if the lights are on? Want your house to call you on an anniversary? Want your house to dump buckets of formaldehyde on the Missionaries at your door? No problem!
That was mean. My husband was a Missionary once. He would have had to pedal his little bicycle home in formaldehyde while listening to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir on his walkman.
After repeatedly telling this Dude, no, all I wanted were perfectly normal, average, run of the mill lights and that I didn’t want a robot running my house, he nearly accepted defeat. But after seeing his pitiful face all gloomy and grim like that, I caved and told him “Fine, WHATEVER, give me auto porch lights, alright?” He happily programmed our fancy porch lights to come on at sunset and turn off a couple hours later and seemed content knowing that his time and glorified techie powers were not COMPLETELY wasted on me and my useless nincompoop self.
And as he was leaving, he asked one more time. Am I SURE I don’t want to add multitudes of thousands of dollars to the value of my home by programming the robot to run our lives? And I finally had to be all, Listen Man, it’s just not for me, okay? Nothing personal. (I was thinking to myself, Seriously, this guy takes his job WAY too seriously) and I kicked him out of my house. TWO HOURS after he arrived.
What is WITH people, right?
Then as he was walking out to his techie transmitter van, I glanced at the card he left me on the counter. It said “Techie Troll Man” and below that it said “Owner - Techie Troll Company”.
Aw, man! He was the OWNER!
How sad is that? I felt terrible. I felt like running after him, giving him a big hug and saying “Keep your chin up, Troll. There are lots of people out there who like this crap, okay? You win some, you lose some. I’m sorry, I could have programmed the lights to come on when the Fridge opened or something. That was rude.”
And then I would have said, “Okay but SERIOUSLY, you have got to send some of your techie spawn next time! YOU don’t get come! YOU are the OWNER!”
How dare they guilt me like this? I’m not supposed to do feelings.
Posted by Jamie @ 3:48 pm • random goodness
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March 21st, 2008 at 5:46 pm, haze Says:
Yeah, the owner making his own service calls does not instill confidence in the company. But I understand you wanting to give him a hug, bless ‘im.
And maybe his sales spiel would have been more successful if you hadn’t had to call him because the robot lights were on the blink (pardon the pun).
March 21st, 2008 at 6:18 pm, Half-Past Kissin' Time Says:
“YOU don’t get come!” Um…you might want to fix that…
At least he wasn’t selling a Kirby vacuum; you have that going for you. My friend spent FOUR hours with one at her house on a Saturday afternoon. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for you now.
March 21st, 2008 at 6:32 pm, misty Says:
he was probably calling his wife, from the van, to tell her they’d have to go through with the foreclosure after all, and that he’d be home for some ramen after his trip to the plasma donation center.
but I mean, that’s not your fault. He should have joined a more stable business like Amway…
March 22nd, 2008 at 1:36 am, Utah Jennifer Says:
Good heavens above! (That is Mormon speak… sorry!:-) What a crappy way to get rid of the strobe lights- being guilted and all that junk. I guess there won’t be any more raves at the Battlestation house.
March 22nd, 2008 at 9:16 am, Christy Says:
“No Mom, I’m waiting to do all those things, okay? I want to be mad about them later, and then blame it on you, alright?”
That was hilarious - I am sending my Mom to your post! When I was growing up, I always thought to myself, “If my Mom is going to shrink my head, I wish she would at least get some formal training…”
I am raising a cup of coffee to your strobe-free morning! Cheers. I thought it was really sweet you let him do the porch :o) You’re a cutie, Jamie! (not in the creepy stranger way - in the, say, Barack Obama smiling at an old lady type of way)
March 23rd, 2008 at 3:44 pm, The work and the glory Says:
Mormons believe that authentic Christianity vanished a century after Jesus and was restored only through Joseph Smith. Considered a prophet by Mormons, Smith revised— and in his view corrected— large sections of the Bible in the 19th century. The Mormon scriptures include the Old and New Testaments, but also include books containing Smith’s revelations.
March 23rd, 2008 at 4:33 pm, Christy Says:
Hmm. Errr… Well, obviously that clears up the home lighting automation issue. :o)
March 29th, 2008 at 11:57 am, Marlene Says:
YOU HAVE BEEN TAGGED!