And So We Wait

When you're calling a business that you're already angry with, the last thing you want to have happen is for that businesses' phone to ring eleven times before it's answered but having it happen to us would be par for the course in our little wheelchair delivery adventure.

The young lady who answered wasn't what I'd call pleasant but she was adequate. B told her why he was calling and she put him on hold for three or four minutes while she found out why the delivery wasn't made. When she returned she did say she was "really, really sorry" but the reason why they didn't keep the appointment yesterday was because the wrong wheelchair was delivered. How's that for a I'm-not-a-bit-surprised moment? No word as to whether the wrong wheelchair was ordered or was merely delivered but I'm betting on the former. As for an explanation as to why the company didn't call us yesterday to let us know that they wouldn't be keeping the appointment, one wasn't offered and B, ever one to not rock the boat, didn't ask. He did, however, ask when delivery of the correct wheelchair could be expected and our telephone answering friend, evidently unable to anticipate a question that would surely be asked by a customer, didn't know so it was back on hold with us until she could find out. She told us it would likely be sometime next week and they'd call us with another delivery date.

The entire experience wasn't in the least a fulfilling one. While I didn't want B to scream and curse at the woman or even raise his voice, I did expect him to at least inquire as to why they didn't call us yesterday to say that the wheelchair wouldn't be delivered and that they had mightily inconvenienced us. B merely replied that: A. none of it was likely her fault and B: she did say she was "really, really sorry". As far as I was concerned she became one of the guilty when it took her eleven rings to answer a business phone.

We're going to give them yet one more chance to make this right by us - in other words, before we start calling for the lopping off of heads, B wants possession of the correct wheelchair. I personally believe that getting the manager of this joint involved (it's a locally owned business I believe and one that B has been doing business with for nearly 20 years and until now they'd always been very reliable) can begin now but B sees it differently and why he does is understandable. First, he's German. Germans are used to crappy customer service. I personally believe that excellent customer service freaks them out a little bit and they don't want too much of it. Second, B is not only German, he's from the former East Germany where rocking the boat before you have what you want in hand is definitely a bad idea. Back then if you bitched too much, too early then whoops! That little thing you've had your heart set on? Golly gee, we're not going to be able to get it for you. Sorry! Times have changed and so have the attitudes on boat rocking but once you've grown up with learning to hold your mouth just right to get what you need, it's a hard habit to break.

Once we've gotten B's wheelchair then that's when we'll sit down and write a letter to the management of the medical supply company and let them know exactly what our experience has been. This latest thing? While it made us crazy furious yesterday and can in no way be considered the proper way to treat a customer, it's peanuts compared to the previous months. Yesterday was a lot of the-right-hand-doesn't-know-what-the-left-hand-is-doing. Mistakes like that get made at every business and for us it was simply the simply the last straw. What really needs to be addressed is Herr Julius. That man should never be allowed to handle customers again. He would never return our calls, wouldn't return the calls of the insurance company and he told us out-and-out lies. Said he'd done things he hadn't. Said the insurance company had done things they hadn't. Misled and ignored us and in general made his company look like it's being run by Fred and Barney. That's whose ass I want in a sling. That's whose ass needs to be taking up space in an unemployment line.

By the way - did I mention that two weeks ago a car cut me off in traffic? Nearly took off my bumper? A company car from Vitalzentrum Strehlow.

Yeah. I wasn't surprised either.

Atomic Fury

I'm warning you right now. I am in a seething rage. If you don't want to read a lot of profanity, you should c'mon back another day when I'm not ready to bite ten-penny nails in half.

Last week the medical supply company called to say that B's new wheelchair would be delivered today between noon and 3pm. Yesterday morning they called again to say they needed to change the time and the wheelchair would be delivered between 2pm and 5pm.

As I write this sentence it's 5:53pm and that fucking wheelchair isn't here yet. We've called the medical supply company and hooray! they seem to do one thing correctly! When 5pm rolls around they close their doors and put the recording on their phones that say they've gone home after a long, hard day of being inept!

I wish I could describe how fucking pissed I am but chances are you've been just as pissed at one time or another. I really thought we'd come to the end of the jumping through hoops it evidently requires to get a wheelchair but no - there seems to be something else we've got to do before these turds stick that fraking wheelchair on a van and bring it to our flat. And heaven forbid these turds call us and say "You know, we just can't make that delivery date. Can we reschedule?". That's all it would have taken. Now I simply don't give a shit what their excuse is because at this point the only good reason for not delivering the wheelchair today and not calling to say that they're not showing up would be that the whole damn place burned down.

I simply can't believe that any one company can be so incredibly shitty. I can't believe that they can get away, over and over, with treating us like a pile of crap. Do you know when this nightmare started? August 7, 2008. That's whem Mr. Medical Supply showed up for his first appointment with B so they could discuss what sort of wheelchair he needs. Mr. Medical didn't call us back for ages so after us contacting him again to ask what sort of wheelchairs he had to offer that would fit B, he returned for an appointment with us on September 17, 2008. We had to get a prescription from our doctor and that prescription was dated September 30, 2008 and I mailed it to the medical supply company that same day. We didn't hear back from Mr. Medical Supply - oh fuck it...his name is Herr Julius. I'm sick of hiding his identity. Anyway, Herr Julius didn't call us back to give us any information so B called him on February 9, 2009 to find out if the insurance company had approved the wheelchair B had picked out. As of February 27, 2009 there was still no progress (and as we found out, no file for this case with the insurance company) and it wasn't until we called the insurance company ourselves that we started to get any action. Well, you already know this since I've flogged the hell out of this topic on this blog over the last few weeks. The point is, I think 7 1/2 months of shit-filled customer service is a little too much.

I think what makes me the angriest is that this company gets away with this bullshit. They're dicking around a handicapped man and you know why? Because they can! Because they're really the only game in town if B needs new batteries for his electric wheelchair or needs a new bed. If something has to be maintained, replaced or repaired, we have to call these assholes and be at their mercy and they know it. They don't come right out as say "Fuck you, folks!" but that's exactly what their attitude says.

So Vitalzentrum Strehlow in Magdeburg and Herr Julius and the lady who makes shitty delivery appointments and you delivery guys who didn't show up today I'm not going to give you a "fuck you!" with my attitude. I'm going to say it plainly. Fuck you. Fuck you and your inepitude and your ass sucking customer service and your generally shitty attitude. Fuck you for treating my husband like he's nothing - like he should be grateful to be at your mercy. Fuck you for acting like we should just stand by and beg for any crumbs you may throw us. And God forbid you ever become sick or disabled. God forbid you or someone you love ever has an accident and becomes dependent on people who treat you like you're nothing but a bother. God forbid that anyone, anyone, ever treats you or someone you love with even a fraction of the disinterest and negligence that we've been shown by you.

And you had better hope to fuck that karma is nothing but bullshit.

When Multi-Tasking Goes Wrong

I'm knitting a pair of socks for Darling Mollie. Alright, alright - I know others of you are patiently waiting for socks from me but I really want to knit this particular pattern and this pattern is just so....so....so....Darling Mollie.

All day I've been chomping at the bit to get to the main part of the pattern. Knitting the cuff of a sock is like being in an airplane just after they've closed the door. You're about to take off but the taxiing to the runway seems to take forever and all you can think is "C'mon! Let's get in the air! I want my plastic cup of tomato juice and my little bag of snack crackers!". I'm knitting a two color pattern for the first time and I've been anxious to see what it's like to have two balls of yarn going at the same time.

Unable to leave the sock knitting alone while I'm online, I've been knitting as I read email and while I've been chatting with Darling Mollie online. I've also been looking at bulletin boards of which I'm a member and at one point I set my knitting aside while I wrote a reply on a thread.

After I was finished writing I picked the sock back up to finish the round I was working on and couldn't find the free needle. I'm knitting with a set of five double pointed needles - four in the sock and one free one to knit onto. I looked around on the sofa where I'm sitting and couldn't see it. I got up to see if I was sitting on it and no needle. Looked under and around the pattern book I'm using. Looked under and around the sofa pillow I'm using to keep the pattern book open (Note to knitting pattern book publishers: use ring binding so the book will lay open flat on its own) and couldn't find it. Looked on the coffee table, looked around the computer, looked on the floor. No needle.

And I was pissed. Furious. How in the world did I lose that needle? How was I so irresponsible as to misplace that needle? I'm normally so careful. I am anal about keeping up with my sock knitting needles and not getting different sizes mixed together and not breaking up a set of five. I looked over and over and over in the same places and the whole time I was cussing up a storm. I haven't been quite this pissed in a long time. "Muthafucker! Where in the fuck did I put that needle? I hate breaking up a set! Dammit to fucking hell, where is that needle?!!".

Meantime B's patiently ignoring me and was fully engaged in playing his computer game. I suppose he's become accustomed to my profanity laden rants.

Another five minutes of frantic searching and foul language passed I finally went to fetch another needle from another sock project that's being knit with needles of the same size. And it's bugging the hell out of me to have to get a needle out of a different set of needles because that's mixing them up! It's inter-needle marriage and I am pro needle-purity. There's something wrong about mixing needles together from different sets even though they're needles of the same size, of the same length, made from the same material and are from the same manufacturer. It's just wrong. It's not...symmetrical or lucky or some such nonsense that in reality has no effect on anything.

Yes, you've just discovered another embarrassing quirk of mine.

I came back into the living room still in full rant:

"Fuck! Dammit to holy hell, I am so pissed! Where in the fuck is that needle? I still can't see where I dropped that fucking needle and now I'm going to have a set that's broken up! Shiiiiiit!! And why do they have to make these sons of bitches so fucking hard to see? Why do they have to paint them that dull ass gray? You can't see them when they're that dull ass gray! They need to paint these fuckers orange or something so you can see the pieces of shit!"

"It wouldn't have done you any good if they were orange."

"Why not? If they were orange they'd stand out better!"

"Because your knitting needle is tucked behind your left ear."

He enjoyed that entirely too much.