Snot is oozing from my left nostril as I type this post. I've had this nasty cold for a couple of weeks now. Sneezing, runny nose, coughing. A total pain in the ass combined with late pregnancy blahs (I'm 30 weeks pregnant on Monday) that involve lower back pain, a sharp pain in my abdomen, constant peeing (mostly in my underwear), constipation and the staving off of the growth of stretch marks on the underside of my large melonious belly.
Baby girl has been kicking up a storm, too, mostly while I'm TRYING to sleep at night. During the day, she's quiet as a church mouse except for a few kicks after I eat lunch.
But as soon as I settle into bed, roll onto my left side and manage to drift off - bam! - there she goes walloping the inside of my gut. The movements, aside from being more than a little weird, are hugely comforting for me, but, as time trickles on, I get more and more scared about the labor part of this whole scenario. It's gonna happen, and it's gonna soon. Nothing I can do about it. This kid has to come out, and there's only two ways she can make her appearance. Neither one of these ways appeals to me, but I prefer to give birth vaginally, if possible. And I'm going to try and do it without a spinal block, too.
I have an appointment with the diabetes lady next week and another scan in a few weeks. I have been assured the little one is of average size considering her gestational age, so I'm not worrying about the obstetrician having to induce labor early. Still, that leaves 10 weeks at most until my body is ripped in half.
When are men going to take over this gruesome task?
maarmie's musings
Friday, November 30, 2007
Christmas plans
C* and I decided to sit our happy asses home over Christmas this year. The Boy will be at his mother's house, and we aren't going to be making the trip to C*'s mom's house in south England. We agreed on a £20 cap on spending on each other as well. I thought about making an overwhelmingly thoughtful homemade gift, but then I remembered that I'm largely uncreative and unskilled in the way of crafts.
Any suggestions?
Any suggestions?
Thursday, November 22, 2007
I got a Thanksgiving - and some snow - after all!
C* surprised me by doing a little shopping today so we could have a small, quiet Thanksgiving meal at home. On the menu is turkey, turkey gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, roasted potatoes, green vegetables and Yorkshire pudding. Those of you who don't know what Yorkshire pudding is should really read the Wikipedia link. It's not dessert. It's bread.
Today marks the first white Thanksgiving I've ever had. On the way home from work, tiny pellets of icy snow were bouncing off the windshield and onto the pavement. The show lasted only five minutes or so, but it counts. I walked to Tesco earlier to pick up stuff for gravy and for lunches this weekend, and it was coooooold. Made my eyes AND my nose run! It's nice experience a season other than the perpetual summer that Florida has to offer, but milder temperatures are definitely more to my liking.
Today marks the first white Thanksgiving I've ever had. On the way home from work, tiny pellets of icy snow were bouncing off the windshield and onto the pavement. The show lasted only five minutes or so, but it counts. I walked to Tesco earlier to pick up stuff for gravy and for lunches this weekend, and it was coooooold. Made my eyes AND my nose run! It's nice experience a season other than the perpetual summer that Florida has to offer, but milder temperatures are definitely more to my liking.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
No pumpkin pie for maarmie
Tomorrow is my first Thanksgiving away from the United States. I won't be having any turkey (except a turkey sandwich for lunch), no potatoes, no stuffing and no pumpkin pie. C* and I printed out a recipe for pumpkin pie earlier then set out to find the ingredients. It's not so easy to find canned pumpkin over here, it seems. And there's no Publix around to just buy a premade one.
I guess I'll just have to suffer.
On another subject: Just because I've written about a few things that go on in Scotland or in the United Kingdom that I view as negative, that doesn't mean that I, in any way, regret moving here. Not for an instant. I am infinitely glad I moved here, and I am even more happy than that that I am with my sweetie.
I'm really very happy. Shocking, isn't it?
I guess I'll just have to suffer.
On another subject: Just because I've written about a few things that go on in Scotland or in the United Kingdom that I view as negative, that doesn't mean that I, in any way, regret moving here. Not for an instant. I am infinitely glad I moved here, and I am even more happy than that that I am with my sweetie.
I'm really very happy. Shocking, isn't it?
Friday, November 16, 2007
First day of work
Today is my first day at work in Scotland. I go in for an unbelievably difficult two or three hours today to get the lowdown from the woman whose last day it is and to meet the woman who will be my supervisor for the next month.
I got the job courtesy of a temp agency I signed up with. Today's wages will go toward the payment of a £20 background check since the work I'll be doing is in the medical field. I guess it's required. I guess in the next month I'll get to find out about the wild world of being a secretary. I'm less than excited, but, hey, it's a paycheck, however small.
Update to come after today's shift.
Update:
The 2.5 hours went about as I thought they would: a brief introduction to my duties. The atmosphere in the cubicle-ridden office is about the same as in either the British or American versions of "The Office": everyone sitting there doing menial, mind-numbing tasks while waiting for the sandwich van to pull in at noon or for the day to mercifully end.
It turns out I'm not going to be a secretary. I'm going to be a secretary to a secretary to the boss of all the head nurses in the highlands. Secretaries of secretaries get to print out e-mails with attachments, make copies, arrange meetings, do filing, open mail and complete other soul-ripping tasks. I'm glad this post is for one month only. I just left one life-draining job, and I'm not about to take up another one so goddamn soon.
I got the job courtesy of a temp agency I signed up with. Today's wages will go toward the payment of a £20 background check since the work I'll be doing is in the medical field. I guess it's required. I guess in the next month I'll get to find out about the wild world of being a secretary. I'm less than excited, but, hey, it's a paycheck, however small.
Update to come after today's shift.
Update:
The 2.5 hours went about as I thought they would: a brief introduction to my duties. The atmosphere in the cubicle-ridden office is about the same as in either the British or American versions of "The Office": everyone sitting there doing menial, mind-numbing tasks while waiting for the sandwich van to pull in at noon or for the day to mercifully end.
It turns out I'm not going to be a secretary. I'm going to be a secretary to a secretary to the boss of all the head nurses in the highlands. Secretaries of secretaries get to print out e-mails with attachments, make copies, arrange meetings, do filing, open mail and complete other soul-ripping tasks. I'm glad this post is for one month only. I just left one life-draining job, and I'm not about to take up another one so goddamn soon.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Guy Fawkes celebration
These photos are from the bonfire and fireworks display in Rosemarkie celebrating Guy Fawkes Night (Bonfire Night), November 5.
Guy Fawkes didn't like Protestants, so he devised a plot to blow up the House of Parliament, and, with it, Protestant rule under King James I of England.
I'm not sure if this night is meant to celebrate the plot (unlikely) or to celebrate Guy Fawkes' subsequent capture and hanging. All I know is that when we tried to leave early to avoid the rush of departing traffic, an angry mob of Scottish people cried, "Halt, ye unbelievers!" and chased us with torches and clubs all the way back to our car.
Guy Fawkes didn't like Protestants, so he devised a plot to blow up the House of Parliament, and, with it, Protestant rule under King James I of England.
I'm not sure if this night is meant to celebrate the plot (unlikely) or to celebrate Guy Fawkes' subsequent capture and hanging. All I know is that when we tried to leave early to avoid the rush of departing traffic, an angry mob of Scottish people cried, "Halt, ye unbelievers!" and chased us with torches and clubs all the way back to our car.
UK v. US - round three
Banking. Why do the British have to make it such a fucking hassle?
From my limited experience, you go into a bank in the United States, wait to talk to an accounts person, fill out paperwork, hand over money, show ID, and, voila, you have just opened a checking or savings account.
Over here, they can't make things that simple.
This week, I've checked out four local banks having branches on the high street (the main street downtown). At the first bank I tried, the Royal Bank of Scotland (or RBS), the lady told me I needed a water bill with my name and current address as proof of my new address. Goodness knows I have tons of other kinds of mail to prove I live where I do, but that's not good enough. I need a utility bill. Bah! Even if I had one, the only account they'd let me open would be the most basic one - one that doesn't even come with a debit card! Can you believe that?
I worked my entire adult life to build up my credit score in the states (and can proudly boast a score of 826) and I move here only to be treated like a financial leper. What's worse is the banking people tell me they can't check my financial history in the United States. I have to start fresh.
The second bank I went to, Clydesdale Bank, told me I'd have to apply and, after my history is checked, they decide which account I can have. The third bank, Lloyds TSB, told me I could just come in and open an account. When I tried to do this, I was told I'd need an appointment, which I made for the next morning. When I showed up, I was told that I'd need employment (and a minimum of £500 being direct-deposited into my account each month) to qualify for even the most basic current account. Since I'm not yet gainfully employed (though I DO start a month-long temp job doing secretarial work for the National Health Service tomorrow), I would only qualify for some kind of what they call a "cash account." Again, no debit card. I can only deposit money and withdraw it from an ATM.
The fourth bank, and the one I have decided to go with, required me to fill out an application and mail it to some office in Leeds. Where the fuck is Leeds, anyway? I went into the branch to see if I could drop the application off there and was told I'd have to mail it. Even though that was my only question, the guy still felt the need to ask, "How long have you lived here?"
Jesus Christ, dude! None of your business how long I've lived here, how long I'm planning on living here (a favorite question) or why I live here! As long as I am legally allowed to be here and I want to put money in an account in your bank, what the fuck is your problem?
The downside at the bank I chose (and the downside at all the banks here considering my lowly status) is that I don't get any kind of overdraft services and I can't make deposits using a teller at a branch. Apparently, they have drop boxes and ATMs in which low-class people like me can make deposits. But at least, if I'm approved, I get a goddamn debit card.
These people are starting to piss me off.
From my limited experience, you go into a bank in the United States, wait to talk to an accounts person, fill out paperwork, hand over money, show ID, and, voila, you have just opened a checking or savings account.
Over here, they can't make things that simple.
This week, I've checked out four local banks having branches on the high street (the main street downtown). At the first bank I tried, the Royal Bank of Scotland (or RBS), the lady told me I needed a water bill with my name and current address as proof of my new address. Goodness knows I have tons of other kinds of mail to prove I live where I do, but that's not good enough. I need a utility bill. Bah! Even if I had one, the only account they'd let me open would be the most basic one - one that doesn't even come with a debit card! Can you believe that?
I worked my entire adult life to build up my credit score in the states (and can proudly boast a score of 826) and I move here only to be treated like a financial leper. What's worse is the banking people tell me they can't check my financial history in the United States. I have to start fresh.
The second bank I went to, Clydesdale Bank, told me I'd have to apply and, after my history is checked, they decide which account I can have. The third bank, Lloyds TSB, told me I could just come in and open an account. When I tried to do this, I was told I'd need an appointment, which I made for the next morning. When I showed up, I was told that I'd need employment (and a minimum of £500 being direct-deposited into my account each month) to qualify for even the most basic current account. Since I'm not yet gainfully employed (though I DO start a month-long temp job doing secretarial work for the National Health Service tomorrow), I would only qualify for some kind of what they call a "cash account." Again, no debit card. I can only deposit money and withdraw it from an ATM.
The fourth bank, and the one I have decided to go with, required me to fill out an application and mail it to some office in Leeds. Where the fuck is Leeds, anyway? I went into the branch to see if I could drop the application off there and was told I'd have to mail it. Even though that was my only question, the guy still felt the need to ask, "How long have you lived here?"
Jesus Christ, dude! None of your business how long I've lived here, how long I'm planning on living here (a favorite question) or why I live here! As long as I am legally allowed to be here and I want to put money in an account in your bank, what the fuck is your problem?
The downside at the bank I chose (and the downside at all the banks here considering my lowly status) is that I don't get any kind of overdraft services and I can't make deposits using a teller at a branch. Apparently, they have drop boxes and ATMs in which low-class people like me can make deposits. But at least, if I'm approved, I get a goddamn debit card.
These people are starting to piss me off.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
UK v. US - round two
Gas prices. They suck over here. People in the U.S. freak out when the price gets much more than $3 a gallon. Well, try $8 a gallon, folks. You heard me right. Eight dollars. A gallon.
It's not that a barrel of oil costs so much more over here. It's that the British government adores taxing the fuck out of its people. Cigarettes are $12 a pack. There's a monthly fee that has to be paid for the privilege of having a television in one's home that pays to keep the BBC on the air. Sales tax comes to just over 17 percent. I shudder to think what percentage is taken out of paychecks.
Where does all this money go?
Are the schools world class? NO!
Are the roads perfectly maintained? NOT ON YOUR LIFE!
Are there plenty of city amenities available to residents and the public? NOT!
People are disgruntled, to be sure, as evidenced by the many newspaper articles wondering where the price of a liter of gas will come to rest. But people aren't fighting it.
Do the British feel as powerless against their government as Americans feel against their own?
It's not that a barrel of oil costs so much more over here. It's that the British government adores taxing the fuck out of its people. Cigarettes are $12 a pack. There's a monthly fee that has to be paid for the privilege of having a television in one's home that pays to keep the BBC on the air. Sales tax comes to just over 17 percent. I shudder to think what percentage is taken out of paychecks.
Where does all this money go?
Are the schools world class? NO!
Are the roads perfectly maintained? NOT ON YOUR LIFE!
Are there plenty of city amenities available to residents and the public? NOT!
People are disgruntled, to be sure, as evidenced by the many newspaper articles wondering where the price of a liter of gas will come to rest. But people aren't fighting it.
Do the British feel as powerless against their government as Americans feel against their own?
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Sick. Bleh!
I seem to be developing some sort of chest cold. My chest feels all raw and yucky. I hope I'm not in for a long winter of illness.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
The Guardian, Nov. 3
Click on the photo to read the caption. It's good to be surrounded by people who hate the president and vice-president as much as I do.
UK v. US - round one
In the United Kingdom, officials who have weapons can actually be found guilty when they slaughter innocent people. Take the case of the Brazilian man thought to be a terrorist who took part in the London subway bombings. This week, the cops were found guilty unlike those monsters who beat and suffocated a child at a Florida boot camp.
Unfortunately, the cops in the London case don't face any criminal charges or punishments on the job. Instead, the police force is facing a paltry $2.1 million fine for shooting an innocent man in the head seven times on a crowded subway and killing him.
Oops! "Sorry" should be good enough, right?
I call that "murder," however, and I call what the boot camp guards did "murder" as well. Only those creeps aren't likely ever going to be held liable for what they did in any way, shape or form.
It seems like a trend in the United States. Might makes right. Except when the person exercising his or her might isn't a cop and, especially, when that person is black.
Unfortunately, the cops in the London case don't face any criminal charges or punishments on the job. Instead, the police force is facing a paltry $2.1 million fine for shooting an innocent man in the head seven times on a crowded subway and killing him.
Oops! "Sorry" should be good enough, right?
I call that "murder," however, and I call what the boot camp guards did "murder" as well. Only those creeps aren't likely ever going to be held liable for what they did in any way, shape or form.
It seems like a trend in the United States. Might makes right. Except when the person exercising his or her might isn't a cop and, especially, when that person is black.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Welcome home
I might not have a job anymore, but there are plenty of things for me to do right now.
The first thing I did was get a library card and put some books on hold at the library. Then I went to see about opening a bank account. I handed over my passport this morning to get a provisional driver's license and have an appointment in three weeks to see about getting a national insurance number so employers will easily know that I'm eligible to work.
The day I got here, I went to my new doctor's office, and I have an appointment Tuesday with a midwife. I've already applied for six jobs (most of them are retail or hotel work but one is in the local office of a member of parliament) and hope something comes through soon. Momma needs a paycheck!
C* has been lovely and welcoming. The day I got here, there were flowers and balloons with streamers in every room. The day after I got here, the card above arrived for me in the mail. How thoughtful can he be?
I already feel more at home here than I ever did in the United States. Is it something about the environment? The attitude? The people? I'm hoping to figure it out and to make some interesting observations and post them here along the way.
maarmie on location in Scotland
I'm here. I'm happy. I'm applying for jobs and getting my life together. This move just might be the best thing I've ever done.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
$75 worth of bad publicity
My blood sugar level rose to unprecedented levels the other day, and I speed-walked to the library in record time to burn off some of the anger brought on by the crappy sales ethic of Josh Redmond, the guy who sold me on SOUTHERN GROUP INC. in south Florida - for all my shipping needs.
Here's what happened: When Josh initially quoted me the $860 fee for shipping my 11 measly boxes door to door from Tallahassee to Inverness, it was the lowest rate I had gotten thus far - even though the rate was based on a 100-square-feet minimum and I was shipping a mere 30 square feet of cargo.
I jumped on the deal making sure to pay careful attention to the "exclusion list" in big print in the body of the quote document. Said "exclusion list" includes documentation fees, palletizing fees, extra fees for having to haul the boxes more than a certain amount from your door to the nearest location the truck can be parked, etc. About 10 exclusions in all.
Having read horror stories on the Internet about moving companies that quote one fee then tack on a myriad of additional charges after they've got their grubby hands on all your shit, I took special care to go over this "exclusion list" item by item with Josh. I didn't want this happening to me.
Josh assured me that none of the items - except possibly port security charges - would apply to my shipment. I was satisfied and filled out the credit card authorization form and the inventory list and sent them back to Josh in an e-mail reiterating what he had said about the quote being the exact rate I was to pay - except possibly port security charges. Though Josh had offered to put this in writing on his end, and though I said OK, I never got said e-mail, and I never got a reply to mine asking him to confirm this agreement.
Red flag, anyone?
That day, I received two quotes lower than what SOUTHERN GROUP INC. was offering, but I didn't cancel with them because they seemed to know what they were doing. Little did I know that was going to be the last I was going to hear from Josh except for when he tried to fuck me with the final bill.
So, a couple of days after e-mailing back the required documents, I'm waiting for the bill of lading to come via fax to give to the driver who would be hauling my shit to Miami. The day before the driver was to come, I still hadn't gotten said bill of lading. After eight or so phone calls to SOUTHERN GROUP, INC., I finally got my bill of lading, a couple of hours after I was told it would be immediately sent. The word "immediately" doesn't mean jack shit to SOUTHERN GROUP, INC., as you will see shortly.
OK. The Federal Express freight guy is super nice. He takes the information off my bill of lading and puts my boxes on his truck. I learn all about his pregnant wife and his young daughter in the process. Hurdle one jumped. My stuff was on its way.
After that, I was waiting for information on the company overseas that would be receiving my stuff. Name? Phone number? Not too much to ask. I requested this information twice from SOUTHERN GROUP, INC. Twice, I was told by someone named Jay that this information would be e-mailed to me. It is now weeks later, and I have yet to receive this e-mail.
Of course I took it upon myself to call Omega Shipping in Miami, the company that actually owns the ships that will be carrying my cargo. The lovely woman who answered the phone there was prompt, kind and courteous, I might add. She confirmed they received my 11 boxes, that they were currently being loaded onto the ship and that Eurousa was the company handling my shipment in the UK. She even gave me their phone number. Now was that so hard?
So, all that was left was to wait for the final invoice to be e-mailed to me so I could authorize payment on my credit card, after which I would supposedly be receiving all the information about the ship (vessel number, docking day and time, etc.) The final invoice came on Friday, the only time since sending my credit card number that I have heard from Josh, and it was $170 more than what he had initially quoted.
Fury.
Instant fury.
This final invoice included two items from the "exclusion list" that I was told didn't apply to my shipment: a $95 documentation fee and a $75 palletizing fee. WHAT?!
I e-mailed Josh back immediately asking why these charges were added to my invoice considering he told me they wouldn't apply. I even forwarded him the e-mail I sent him on October 2, the one I sent trying to confirm everything we had discussed:
----------------------
Josh,
Good to hear that my shipment is on schedule. I had called Omega, and they verified that all 11 boxes were on board. Regarding the price, I was quoted $860.00 plus $120 for insurance and was told those would be the only charges. You told me that yourself on the phone. What are these documentation and pallet fees?
----------------------
AND:
---------------------
This was sent to you by me on October 2 to confirm what we talked about. You did not reply:
Josh,
Please confirm that the $860.00 USD quote includes all fees, charges for door-to-door service of my shipment except the port security charge you say could be added. Please also confirm that this rate includes $1,000 of insurance on my shipment. I have not added any additional insurance. Attached is the contact form and the CC authorization form. I will e-mail you a list of boxes/items/values first thing in the morning. Thank you so much for your help.
----------------------
I didn’t get a response that day. The next morning, I called SOUTHERN GROUP INC. to talk to the little weasel who chose to hide behind e-mail and seemed to be running when I dared to call him out. Josh was on another call, I was told, and, after waiting for about five minutes on hold, I talked at length to the guy who had answered the phone. I told him my problem, and he assured me that Josh would call me back.
"No he won't," I told him. "Josh never calls me back."
He swore, though, that he, personally, would see to it that Josh call me.
Three hours later, Josh still hadn't called. I called my husband to complain and to take him up on his offer to call the little scumbag.
C* called, and it was Josh who answered the phone. C* talked to him about my issues, and Josh denied ever telling me that items on the "exclusion list" wouldn't apply to my shipment. He said, however, that he would talk to his supervisor and take off the $95 documentation fee and would call me in the next few minutes. Those were his words. In a few minutes.
HA!
One hour later, I asked C* to call again. Josh answered again and said he would be calling me immediately. Tick tock.
Then, I get another fucking e-mail:
-----------------------
Dear Ms. Blakley,
I do apologize about the delay in getting back to you. Unfortunately I have been in and out of the office for the past week assisting on local shipment we have going out.
In regards to your concerns we do not include any documentation or pallet charges in our cost.
This was clearly mention in all of our exclusion and was not specified in the included items on your rate.
We have to pay these charges out to the steamship line therefore we have to bill the customer. There are many unforeseen issues with shipping overseas therefore we have to keep an exclusions list just like any other company.
The balance of $1150 will still stand at this time.
Please let us know if you have any further questions.
Thank you
---------------------------
By this time I was seeing red.
On the phone to C* again, reading the e-mail and asking him to talk to Josh's supervisor. While he was on the phone talking to a Mr. Levins and accusing Josh of saying what he had to say to get my business and then scamming me later, I got a wild hair up my ass to call the supervisor myself. He called me back when he was done talking to C*, and I let him have it. I told him the whole story, and all he could say was that Josh was one of his best employees and that the "exclusion list" is written in large print on the invoice. I told him I knew all about the damn list but that Josh had told me blah blah blah.
Long story somewhat shorter, he took the documentation fee off the cost, leaving me stuck with only $75 in extra charges. Since I knew my only other option was to pay the entire cost quoted (within three days or face additional "surcharges" - how convenient) I happily chose this option.
They better hope I don't stumble upon any message boards having to do with moving companies, though, because I have more than $75 worth of venom to spew about their shitty service.
Here's what happened: When Josh initially quoted me the $860 fee for shipping my 11 measly boxes door to door from Tallahassee to Inverness, it was the lowest rate I had gotten thus far - even though the rate was based on a 100-square-feet minimum and I was shipping a mere 30 square feet of cargo.
I jumped on the deal making sure to pay careful attention to the "exclusion list" in big print in the body of the quote document. Said "exclusion list" includes documentation fees, palletizing fees, extra fees for having to haul the boxes more than a certain amount from your door to the nearest location the truck can be parked, etc. About 10 exclusions in all.
Having read horror stories on the Internet about moving companies that quote one fee then tack on a myriad of additional charges after they've got their grubby hands on all your shit, I took special care to go over this "exclusion list" item by item with Josh. I didn't want this happening to me.
Josh assured me that none of the items - except possibly port security charges - would apply to my shipment. I was satisfied and filled out the credit card authorization form and the inventory list and sent them back to Josh in an e-mail reiterating what he had said about the quote being the exact rate I was to pay - except possibly port security charges. Though Josh had offered to put this in writing on his end, and though I said OK, I never got said e-mail, and I never got a reply to mine asking him to confirm this agreement.
Red flag, anyone?
That day, I received two quotes lower than what SOUTHERN GROUP INC. was offering, but I didn't cancel with them because they seemed to know what they were doing. Little did I know that was going to be the last I was going to hear from Josh except for when he tried to fuck me with the final bill.
So, a couple of days after e-mailing back the required documents, I'm waiting for the bill of lading to come via fax to give to the driver who would be hauling my shit to Miami. The day before the driver was to come, I still hadn't gotten said bill of lading. After eight or so phone calls to SOUTHERN GROUP, INC., I finally got my bill of lading, a couple of hours after I was told it would be immediately sent. The word "immediately" doesn't mean jack shit to SOUTHERN GROUP, INC., as you will see shortly.
OK. The Federal Express freight guy is super nice. He takes the information off my bill of lading and puts my boxes on his truck. I learn all about his pregnant wife and his young daughter in the process. Hurdle one jumped. My stuff was on its way.
After that, I was waiting for information on the company overseas that would be receiving my stuff. Name? Phone number? Not too much to ask. I requested this information twice from SOUTHERN GROUP, INC. Twice, I was told by someone named Jay that this information would be e-mailed to me. It is now weeks later, and I have yet to receive this e-mail.
Of course I took it upon myself to call Omega Shipping in Miami, the company that actually owns the ships that will be carrying my cargo. The lovely woman who answered the phone there was prompt, kind and courteous, I might add. She confirmed they received my 11 boxes, that they were currently being loaded onto the ship and that Eurousa was the company handling my shipment in the UK. She even gave me their phone number. Now was that so hard?
So, all that was left was to wait for the final invoice to be e-mailed to me so I could authorize payment on my credit card, after which I would supposedly be receiving all the information about the ship (vessel number, docking day and time, etc.) The final invoice came on Friday, the only time since sending my credit card number that I have heard from Josh, and it was $170 more than what he had initially quoted.
Fury.
Instant fury.
This final invoice included two items from the "exclusion list" that I was told didn't apply to my shipment: a $95 documentation fee and a $75 palletizing fee. WHAT?!
I e-mailed Josh back immediately asking why these charges were added to my invoice considering he told me they wouldn't apply. I even forwarded him the e-mail I sent him on October 2, the one I sent trying to confirm everything we had discussed:
----------------------
Josh,
Good to hear that my shipment is on schedule. I had called Omega, and they verified that all 11 boxes were on board. Regarding the price, I was quoted $860.00 plus $120 for insurance and was told those would be the only charges. You told me that yourself on the phone. What are these documentation and pallet fees?
----------------------
AND:
---------------------
This was sent to you by me on October 2 to confirm what we talked about. You did not reply:
Josh,
Please confirm that the $860.00 USD quote includes all fees, charges for door-to-door service of my shipment except the port security charge you say could be added. Please also confirm that this rate includes $1,000 of insurance on my shipment. I have not added any additional insurance. Attached is the contact form and the CC authorization form. I will e-mail you a list of boxes/items/values first thing in the morning. Thank you so much for your help.
----------------------
I didn’t get a response that day. The next morning, I called SOUTHERN GROUP INC. to talk to the little weasel who chose to hide behind e-mail and seemed to be running when I dared to call him out. Josh was on another call, I was told, and, after waiting for about five minutes on hold, I talked at length to the guy who had answered the phone. I told him my problem, and he assured me that Josh would call me back.
"No he won't," I told him. "Josh never calls me back."
He swore, though, that he, personally, would see to it that Josh call me.
Three hours later, Josh still hadn't called. I called my husband to complain and to take him up on his offer to call the little scumbag.
C* called, and it was Josh who answered the phone. C* talked to him about my issues, and Josh denied ever telling me that items on the "exclusion list" wouldn't apply to my shipment. He said, however, that he would talk to his supervisor and take off the $95 documentation fee and would call me in the next few minutes. Those were his words. In a few minutes.
HA!
One hour later, I asked C* to call again. Josh answered again and said he would be calling me immediately. Tick tock.
Then, I get another fucking e-mail:
-----------------------
Dear Ms. Blakley,
I do apologize about the delay in getting back to you. Unfortunately I have been in and out of the office for the past week assisting on local shipment we have going out.
In regards to your concerns we do not include any documentation or pallet charges in our cost.
This was clearly mention in all of our exclusion and was not specified in the included items on your rate.
We have to pay these charges out to the steamship line therefore we have to bill the customer. There are many unforeseen issues with shipping overseas therefore we have to keep an exclusions list just like any other company.
The balance of $1150 will still stand at this time.
Please let us know if you have any further questions.
Thank you
---------------------------
By this time I was seeing red.
On the phone to C* again, reading the e-mail and asking him to talk to Josh's supervisor. While he was on the phone talking to a Mr. Levins and accusing Josh of saying what he had to say to get my business and then scamming me later, I got a wild hair up my ass to call the supervisor myself. He called me back when he was done talking to C*, and I let him have it. I told him the whole story, and all he could say was that Josh was one of his best employees and that the "exclusion list" is written in large print on the invoice. I told him I knew all about the damn list but that Josh had told me blah blah blah.
Long story somewhat shorter, he took the documentation fee off the cost, leaving me stuck with only $75 in extra charges. Since I knew my only other option was to pay the entire cost quoted (within three days or face additional "surcharges" - how convenient) I happily chose this option.
They better hope I don't stumble upon any message boards having to do with moving companies, though, because I have more than $75 worth of venom to spew about their shitty service.
Monday, October 15, 2007
The last supper
The family came up here this weekend to see me one last time before I fly off into the wild blue yonder. I was stressing about it Saturday to C*, worried that my dad would use this meeting as one last chance to get a few digs in before I leave.
The end of Saturday evening would have been easier for me had that been the case. But, yet again, the 'rents had to make things as hard as possible on me by being...nice.
They exclaimed over the wedding photo album and the photos of Scotland I brought along to share. They asked thoughtful questions about my near future. They all said how good I looked. It all left me wondering why things couldn't have been this way all along, why they waited until I was get ready to move to another country to finally treat me like a human being.
Following years of mental and physical inactivity following the death of my grandfather, my gradmother looks old, sad and frail. Her hair is grayer than ever, she seems shorter than ever and she looks sadder than ever. That's the last time I'll ever see her, I'm sure.
Though we were extremely close when I was a child, we have had a falling out in recent years, and I don't really have any feelings about this meeting being our last or about the reality that my daughter will never meet her great-grandmother.
My brother and sister-in-law were great. For once, my brother was the butt of all the jokes, and he took it quite well. After losing more than 200 pounds, he is obsessed with healthy weight maintenance, exercise, nutrition and body fat percentages. As my brother is wont to do, he talked on and on about the topic, and we took this as an opportunity to roll our eyes, point out his phychological weaknesses and laugh our stupid laughs. I joined in with glee, finally knowing how it felt to be on the other side of the punch lines. I'm not saying I'm proud of how I acted, but it was interesting all the same.
But bro knows we think he's the biggest genius we'll ever meet in our lifetimes, so at least he's got that to cling to even as we insinuate, with smiles on our faces, that he'll one day end up in a padded cell somewhere bound by a straightjacket.
Love you, bro!
I was hoping dad and stepmom would break open their wallets for more than dinner, but it wasn't destined to be. No cash for only daughter and soon-to-be granddaughter. maarmie sad.
When brother and sister-in-law dropped me back at my place this morning after brunch, I couldn't help but cry. My brother is the only person in my family who has meant anything significant to me for such a long time, and it will be ages before I see him again. At least I leave seeing that he has become such a different and better person on so many levels and that he has (albeit obsessively) decided to take his good health into his own hands.
Food won't be killing him anytime soon, and that makes it so much easier for me to float away.
The end of Saturday evening would have been easier for me had that been the case. But, yet again, the 'rents had to make things as hard as possible on me by being...nice.
They exclaimed over the wedding photo album and the photos of Scotland I brought along to share. They asked thoughtful questions about my near future. They all said how good I looked. It all left me wondering why things couldn't have been this way all along, why they waited until I was get ready to move to another country to finally treat me like a human being.
Following years of mental and physical inactivity following the death of my grandfather, my gradmother looks old, sad and frail. Her hair is grayer than ever, she seems shorter than ever and she looks sadder than ever. That's the last time I'll ever see her, I'm sure.
Though we were extremely close when I was a child, we have had a falling out in recent years, and I don't really have any feelings about this meeting being our last or about the reality that my daughter will never meet her great-grandmother.
My brother and sister-in-law were great. For once, my brother was the butt of all the jokes, and he took it quite well. After losing more than 200 pounds, he is obsessed with healthy weight maintenance, exercise, nutrition and body fat percentages. As my brother is wont to do, he talked on and on about the topic, and we took this as an opportunity to roll our eyes, point out his phychological weaknesses and laugh our stupid laughs. I joined in with glee, finally knowing how it felt to be on the other side of the punch lines. I'm not saying I'm proud of how I acted, but it was interesting all the same.
But bro knows we think he's the biggest genius we'll ever meet in our lifetimes, so at least he's got that to cling to even as we insinuate, with smiles on our faces, that he'll one day end up in a padded cell somewhere bound by a straightjacket.
Love you, bro!
I was hoping dad and stepmom would break open their wallets for more than dinner, but it wasn't destined to be. No cash for only daughter and soon-to-be granddaughter. maarmie sad.
When brother and sister-in-law dropped me back at my place this morning after brunch, I couldn't help but cry. My brother is the only person in my family who has meant anything significant to me for such a long time, and it will be ages before I see him again. At least I leave seeing that he has become such a different and better person on so many levels and that he has (albeit obsessively) decided to take his good health into his own hands.
Food won't be killing him anytime soon, and that makes it so much easier for me to float away.
Friday, October 05, 2007
It's definitely a girl!
This photo of the baby is an update at 17 weeks. Hasn't she grown a lot? I am now at 21 weeks and counting, and I leave for Scotland on October 29.
My car is fixed. My visa is in hand. My furniture is sold. My resignation is tendered. My boxes are packed and ship out today. My diabetes is under control with diet and exercise. My credit cards are quickly getting paid. My remaining doctor appointments are made. My medication is filled. My suitcase is packed. I have checked out of my job even though my body is still, technically, here.
Even though the temperature is in the 30s during the day in Scotland right now, I cannot, cannot wait to leave.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Life sucks
To top off all my pains, I just found out this morning that I'm diabetic. I'm going to be paying a visit to a diabetes clinic here where, my OB says, they will likely put me on insulin shots. My glucose levels were high in a one-hour test AND a three-hour test, and I will likely have diabetes even after I give birth.
Something to look forward to...
Something to look forward to...
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Replivaland
Just what I needed. Yet ANOTHER horse pill to take each and every godforsaken morning. And I get to pay $40 a month for the honors! Lucky me...
Leaving on a jet plane
I got my visa.
Goodbye Tallahassee. Goodbye Florida. Goodbye USA. On October 29, I fly.
But first:
There are doctor appointments after doctor appointments.
I found out today not only am I anemic but my blood sugar is also high. So I have to take these prescription pills for the anemia and take some kind of THREE-HOUR test for the blood sugar. I already sat at the stupid blood people's office for almost two hours last week to take this first test! ARGH!
AND I HATE NEEDLES! DOUBLE ARGH!!!!!!!
AND: I have to get my car fixed.
A car accident last week resulted in $2,000 worth of damage to the front end of my car. I was going straight on a two-lane road, and the guy bolted out in front of me from a stop sign on my left. Smash!
So the guy, it turns out, is 32 years old, lives with his mom, is driving his mom's van on his mom's insurance and, you guessed it, doesn't have a job. The cop named him as the violator and said he could either issue a citation right then and go straight through insurance or we could self report giving him a chance to talk to mom and see about paying out of pocket instead of going through insurance.
I let him pick choice number two, to be nice.
Harumph!
Day of accident: I left work early to meet my insurance agent at a body shop and get damage estimates number one and two. Then, I went to see my OB to get an ultrasound and make sure the little one is OK. That's when I learned the baby is most likely a GIRL! Yippee! Everything checked out OK.
Day two: I left work early AGAIN to get damage estimate number three at a body shop of the guy's choosing.
Day three: I left work early YET AGAIN to meet the guy at a McDonald's to give him paper copies of the three estimates. I showed up on time and was sitting inside with said estimates in a folder. The guy showed up 20 minutes late, circled the restaurant twice...and left.
Day four: I arrived at work early to call the guy's insurance company and make a claim.
Day four afternoon: The guy called to see if we could meet later that day for me to give him the estimates. I told him no. He asked if we could meet the next day. I told him that I called his insurance company. He told me he showed up at the restaurant. I said, "I know you did. I watched you circle the building twice and leave."
Jesus. This is why I hate people so very much sometimes.
Goodbye Tallahassee. Goodbye Florida. Goodbye USA. On October 29, I fly.
But first:
There are doctor appointments after doctor appointments.
I found out today not only am I anemic but my blood sugar is also high. So I have to take these prescription pills for the anemia and take some kind of THREE-HOUR test for the blood sugar. I already sat at the stupid blood people's office for almost two hours last week to take this first test! ARGH!
AND I HATE NEEDLES! DOUBLE ARGH!!!!!!!
AND: I have to get my car fixed.
A car accident last week resulted in $2,000 worth of damage to the front end of my car. I was going straight on a two-lane road, and the guy bolted out in front of me from a stop sign on my left. Smash!
So the guy, it turns out, is 32 years old, lives with his mom, is driving his mom's van on his mom's insurance and, you guessed it, doesn't have a job. The cop named him as the violator and said he could either issue a citation right then and go straight through insurance or we could self report giving him a chance to talk to mom and see about paying out of pocket instead of going through insurance.
I let him pick choice number two, to be nice.
Harumph!
Day of accident: I left work early to meet my insurance agent at a body shop and get damage estimates number one and two. Then, I went to see my OB to get an ultrasound and make sure the little one is OK. That's when I learned the baby is most likely a GIRL! Yippee! Everything checked out OK.
Day two: I left work early AGAIN to get damage estimate number three at a body shop of the guy's choosing.
Day three: I left work early YET AGAIN to meet the guy at a McDonald's to give him paper copies of the three estimates. I showed up on time and was sitting inside with said estimates in a folder. The guy showed up 20 minutes late, circled the restaurant twice...and left.
Day four: I arrived at work early to call the guy's insurance company and make a claim.
Day four afternoon: The guy called to see if we could meet later that day for me to give him the estimates. I told him no. He asked if we could meet the next day. I told him that I called his insurance company. He told me he showed up at the restaurant. I said, "I know you did. I watched you circle the building twice and leave."
Jesus. This is why I hate people so very much sometimes.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Our baby
On Monday, I will be 16 weeks pregnant. The night sweats stopped weeks ago, and the all-day nausea is a thing of the past. I still throw up first thing in the morning, but I'll take that any day over constant fatigue and waking up hot and drenched all night. Oh, wait. I wake up all night, now, anyway...to pee.
Here's a photo of our baby taken at 11 weeks. In 4 more weeks, I'll be having another scan and will likely post a photo update.
Here's a photo of our baby taken at 11 weeks. In 4 more weeks, I'll be having another scan and will likely post a photo update.
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