The Nightmare Continues

Okay, so where were we?  Oh yes, I had regaled you with the events of Thursday night at the Quality Inn in Syracuse. Just the thought of 4 glorious days in Syracuse, New York must thrill you beyond words. I had mentioned that despite our room problems, primarily the 32 degree temperatures in the room, the manager was very kind and assured us that all we needed to do was to phone Priceline, have them phone her, and, voila!, we would be credited for our first night's stay.  

Oh yes, before I move on, I will as politely as possible inform you that the toilet in the bathroom of our room wasn't working properly. The manager assured us that she would make sure that was cared for. That was very much appreciated. I'd rather sleep in a 32 degree room and have a working toilet, than have a nice, warm room and an unflushable toilet. Call me old fashioned, but that's the way I roll. So to speak.

As my wife and I headed over to her grandparents' home, she decided to call Priceline. I'm sure the clever customer service people there have cleverly designed a system that, at least half the time, results in the caller hanging up and shooting him- or herself  before he/she ever gets to speak with someone.

But my wife is tenacious. After about fifteen minutes a real live human comes on the phone. What more could we have asked for? Okay, it would have been nice if said human spoke English, but I don't want to be too picky.

"We had a problem with our room last night," my wife tells someone who could very well have been Osama Bin Laden's wife for all I know. And, if she is, that might explain a few things. Anyway, my wife begins to relate the adventures of the previous evening, beginning with the clerk's refusal to change our room to non-smoking and ending with us having awakened with icicles dangling from our noses.

After my wife's unabridged explanation, the pleasant woman says something that sounds somewhat like, "Let me see if I understand. You have left the hotel?"

"Well, we have left for the day, but we're still there," my wife explains.

"But, you want to check out and not stay the next two nights?" Masumi asks.

"NO!" my wife explains. "We spoke with the manager and she said that because we had no heat last night, she would comp us the night, but we have to go through Priceline." Clear enough, I'd think.

"Okay," Abdullette continues, "If I'm understanding you, you would like for the hotel to move you to a smoking room?"

"NOOOO!" my wife explains again. "The manager at the hotel says she will give us last night free because there was no heat in the room. She told us to call Priceline."

"Oh, I understand," Mahatma says. "Well have you spoken with the manager at the hotel?"

"Yes," my wife says, almost patiently. "She told us to call you and that if you call her she will tell you that she will comp last night's room."

"So has the hotel offered to do anything?" Sumiko asks so politely. 

"Have you not heard a word I've said," my wife explains. "The manager said that if you, Priceline, will call her she will authorize you to credit us for last night."

"Now, let me see if I have this correctly," Falafel says. "You want me to call the manager for you?"

"Close," my wife says, feeling that maybe she's getting somewhere.

"And ask that you be switched to a smoking room..." Babaghanoush states proudly.

"Can I speak with your manager," my wife explains.

"No," Affifa says. "You must call back to do that."

"Okay," my wife explains. "I'll do that."

"Before you go," Badriyah says, "Let me ask you this. Have I completely cared for your needs today?"

CLICK

After a couple more thirty minute phone calls to Priceline, I can proudly say we got our credit. And who says there is no such thing as customer service anymore.  There is more to the story, but I think you've probably had your fill for today. We'll talk toilet next time.

My Four-Day, Three-Night(mare) Getaway

I'm sitting here in my hotel room in Syracuse, looking out the window at the glowing Embassy Suites sign. The only problem is the sign is in front of the hotel across the street. I'm in a fabulous 2 star Quality Inn. I've been here one day, with two more to go. I would have told you this morning, after my experiences last night, that it couldn't get any worse. I would have been wrong.

But, let's start at the beginning. It's a very fine place to start. My wife and I came up yesterday to visit her grandmother and step-grandfather. I like them both. On the trip up, we tried some of the tricks we'd heard on the radio about negotiating for the best hotel rates. We failed miserably, so I decided to try Priceline. I'd tried it in the past, but my offers were always rejected. My brother brags about the great deals he gets, so I figured I'd give it another shot.

My first offer for a 2-and-a-half star place got rejected. So, I dropped down to two stars. Immediately, I got back a response. We had been accepted. My wife and I joined hands and danced around her grandmother's kitchen. "Two whole stars," we shouted in unison.

I should have known that something must be amiss. I mean, why would the fine folks at Quality Inn accept my $3.79 a night offer?  Anyway, we drove over to the hotel. I checked in. The place wasn't the Taj Mahal. It wasn't even the Oddfellows Hall, but it looked okay.

As soon as we walked into our cozy, little, closet-like room, the smell of tobacco gently wafted up into our lungs. After a few seconds of subdued gagging, I called the front desk. "This must be a smoking room," I said, kindly enough.

"Yes," the not so very concerned front desk guy replied.

"Do you have a non-smoking room?" I asked in my nicest nice-guy voice.

"Yes, but because you came through Priceline I can't let you have it," the guy says, relishing the opportunity to tell me that. "I'd have to charge you again and you'd get no refund on your first room."  He was in his element now.

"That's the most asinine thing I've ever heard," I said, my voice dripping with kindness. "How about that sign in the lobby that says that if something doesn't meet my satisfaction, you'll correct it?"  I thought my comment was very well thought out.

"Yeah, but you came through Priceline," he said, as if that pretty much answered my well thought out question perfectly. Evidently Priceline customers are second class citizens in the hotel world.

"This is absurd," I say.

"Here, give me the phone," my wife says. She's made a career of apologizing for me. 

"Help yourself," I say lovingly to her, handing her the phone.

Well, to expedite this thing, I'll just say that she was able to get the guy to extend to us a degree of courtesy not known in the Western World. He gave us another room and promised he wouldn't charge us.

We moved next door. The room smelled great. We brought all our luggage in, turned the hi-tech little wall air/heat unit on, and proceeded to get ready for bed.  After noticing that the rather chilly room wasn't warming up, I checked the heater. It wasn't heating up either. It was blowing cold air. 

My wife called the office. This time the caring clerk was also clever. He didn't answer. So, we just turned the heater off and slept in the cold room. Needless to say, we both survived the night.

This morning I spoke with the hotel manager. She was very kind and understanding and agreed to comp our room for last night, but, she said, we'd have to call Priceline to get them to initiate the credit to our card.  

So we called Priceline. That's when the real fun began. I will tell you more about that tomorrow. I'm tired and going to bed...not in the same room as I woke up in, but I'll save that story for tomorrow as well. Who knows? I may even have more to tell. The night is young.

IF YOU'RE LAUGHING OUT LOUD, YOU NEED HELP.

I'm not sure who started it. But, I'd love to find out, and then beat them mercilessly about the head and face. I am, of course, talking about the originator of that now famous expression, "LOL!" I hate it. Honest, I do. Please, I beg anyone who ever writes to me, comments on my Facebook, or engages in any social interaction with me, DON'T SAY "LOL," or "ROFL," which is even worse, or the granddaddy of them all, please never, ever say, "ROFLMAO." Eeeek, that one gives me the shivers.

I'm sure I've already ticked at least one someone off. But, please believe me, I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to save you from yourself. Let me try and put this as delicately as I can. Saying LOL is tantamount to admitting that you're a complete idiot with a vocabulary of a first grader (my apologies to many of your first graders).

Think about it. What does it mean? Laugh(ing) out loud. Oh really. So, you're sitting there, brilliantly commenting on what a text mate or a Facebook friend has said and you're truly laughing out loud? Really? And, pray tell me, just what are you laughing out loud about? 

Most people, I think, if I'm reading them correctly, are saying they LOLing about their own comment. Occasionally, one will simply respond to something someone else has said with an "LOL." That's not too bad, if, indeed, you truly are laughing out loud.

But, more often than not, the ubiquitous LOL will be used somewhat like this: I'll write, "I'm working hard today."

Then Mr. or Ms. Laugh Factory will respond, "Working hard or hardly working? LOL" Are you really laughing out loud at your clever retort?  Because, if so, what we probably have going on here is some sort of bipolar thing. I mean who, really, sits around by themselves, just them and their keyboard, and laughs out loud?

So, unless you really are laughing out loud, don't say it. If you don't think the recipient of your LOL humor is smart enough to know you're joking, then just don't joke with him or her. LOL is kind of like the cyber version of those old TV show laugh tracks.  

It evidently is used as some sort of primal pump to encourage the person with whom you're having some sort of online communication to start laughing.  Let me give you a little tip on humor. If you have to tell someone to laugh, or if you have to laugh to get them laughing at something you've said, you're not the least bit funny.

Gee, I feel so good, just getting this off my chest. It's something I've been wanting to say for so long, but I have been afraid of alienating friends. But, hey, who cares? Not me. 

Now, on occasion, you may worry that the person with whom they're chatting may think you're being serious and you need to warn them that you're not. For instance, suppose someone says something that is a bit of a put down, so you cleverly reply, "Yeah, and your mother wears army boots." And then you get to thinking that maybe they'll really believe that you think their mother wears army boots. And, truth is, you really don't want to cause them any lasting emotional harm, so you'll quickly add, "LOL." And, you'll feel much better.

I'm not an unfeeling person. I can understand that. So, here's my suggestion. If you're using LOL when what you're really trying to say is, "Hey, that is an example of my biting sarcasm," then wouldn't it be better to do something like this:

Your chat partner says, "I'm feeling pretty good today."

And, you, with that quick wit of yours, say, "What? Are you pretty and good?"

Don't add LOL. It would be much better to add "BS" 

Of course, one caveat here to finish things up.  If you are exceptionally clever and spend your day communicating your biting sarcasm to any and all comers, you had better watch out. It could be that your chat messages will be full of BS. LOL.