Pushing Buttons

Some days I have to bite my tongue so hard I wonder how I can still talk.

If you do anything where you have to deal with the public, you know what I mean. My “day” job is on the phones. 99% of those calls are people in a dire situation and I represent the solution, so they’re polite, sometimes hysterically funny, and generally easy to talk to. There’s always a few souls, however, who let loose, thinking they’ll get something that way.

I smile and let them rant, because by the time they’re done they still need stuff fixed, and I just got a whole lot less inclined to step up on their behalf. Unlike some jobs, with this one I often can do exactly that.

So here’s a thought, Mr./Ms. Customer: don’t scream at me. Don’t tell me I’m a useless ****. It doesn’t do a thing for me except elevate my job reviews because I didn’t lose my cool with you, but it’s been known to get you a call back from the people I work for, who not only cancel your help, but lock you out permanently. And for some areas, we’re the only game in town, so you’re officially screwed. Or in a couple of places, there are two games in town – but I manage both. My bosses like me. They listen to me all the time. Hell, they use my calls for training, and ask me to beta-test stuff. I’m not magical, but you’re not helping yourself to push my buttons.

Meanwhile, in my “spare” time, I do what I can to help people in various stages of entrepreneurship, the publishing industry, and other venues. One group where I help it’s insanely busy, with people asking for help with their money-making projects, asking for critiques, etc. I gave someone a critique today, and his or her reply was, “But my beta testers liked it so I’m sticking with it like it is.” (Not being obtuse with the his-or-her comment – I just don’t remember which it was. Too many trolls under the bridge.) Oh honey, I know how that goes. When your beta tester is your mommy and your great-aunt Lizzie Belle, they’ll love whatever you do. But the litmus test doesn’t come until somebody’s gotta slap down cold, hard cash for your product, whatever it is. That’s where someone like me comes in, and you just shut me down cold.

I’ve been doing this long enough to have a few pat answers. I won’t be rude, but my answer will be clear as a bell to everyone but the one I’m answering. “Fair enough. We try to suggest ways to help you make money, but if you’re making enough money now, don’t mess with a winning formula!”

Polite, non-confrontational, and passive-aggressive as Hell.

My late ex-husband D used to get furious at me because he knew I was messing with his head, and his friends knew I was messing with their heads, and they were too stoned/stupid to know any more than that. I couldn’t take them on in a physical fight, but in a battle of wits, it was game-set-match. I got a lot of practice starting long before some of my friends were born. On a bad day, my sarcasm levels only exceed my cholesterol levels. On a good day, it’s so high I’m fielding calls from NASA.

This week my good-girl persona is in charge. One of my cousins dreams of becoming a published author. She’s mentally challenged, yet literate. Unfortunately, her only computer/internet option is her cell phone with limited data. So I tracked down a solution for her: an old-school word processor, one step up from an electric typewriter. This model is the AlphaSmart Dana version – one of the last things released by Palm Pilot before they tanked. And it still looks and works like new.

It doesn’t need an Internet connection or even paper, and I ordered an SD card so she can write several books’ worth and save them. But the cool part about this model is if/when she gets somewhere there IS a computer (like, say, the library) this connects either by USB or WiFi, she can upload documents and email to me. I can then see if they’re even marginally viable and get her published. Whether they sell isn’t the point for her; it’s about sending her a print copy she can hold in her hands and say, “I wrote that!”

The machine itself didn’t cost much – I paid $12.99 I think, plus shipping. But the power cord comes separately and so does the memory card. (It works on AA batteries, but has a 25-hour internal battery if you spring for the power cord – which costs more than I paid for the damned machine in the first place. Oh well.)  A 1GB memory card actually costs more than an 8GB one, too, for the record. But an 8GB memory card is such overkill it would just bog this thing down, so…

This cousin isn’t my favorite person in the world. She’s a couple of months older than me and isolated beyond belief. She really is mentally challenged. It wasn’t my typical hyperbole. You wouldn’t know it to talk to her short-term, because she’s fairly well spoken most of the time. Trouble is, she isn’t always on speaking terms with reality. She lives in subsidized housing out in the middle of nowhere, Texas, has no vehicle, and has very little contact with the world. Being able to write would probably be a catharsis for her. And who knows? Exorcising her demons might end up making good reading. Let’s face it, the writerly bunch aren’t all known for being pillars of stability, anyway. It would be the height of irony for her to become filthy rich as an author, but I’d love it if she did, even if it did drive me bonkers along the way.

Karma is a bitch at times, but sometimes it can also have a supreme sense of humor.

Only a few photos this week. I had another project this weekend and didn’t go anywhere photogenic. I uploaded as a gallery again, so click and slide your way through, if you’re interested.