When you move you really can’t escape filing a change of address with the US Postal Service. Unless all you want to receive in your mail box is pre-approved credit card offers—those clowns seem to be able to find you in any circumstances. (I imagine that they & insects will be the only survivors of a nuclear holocaust.)
If you go online, which presumably completely automates the process, thus saving both labor & resources, it turns out that you have to pay $1.00 for making their lives easier. & they don’t mention this charge until you’ve already gone through the entire process of filling out your details. You think you’re done & up pops a screen saying that to verify your identity they need a credit card number…& they have to charge you the buck.
Well, that pissed me off, & since I had to go to a post office to mail a parcel anyhow, I decided I’d use the old-fashioned method: fill out their little postcard, with free postage.
Only these days, because they obviously don’t WANT you doing that; you have to go up to a counter & ask for the card. It’s not available amongst the other forms (including the vacation mail hold forms); you have to wrestle it out of a humanoid. & they’re clearly trained to discourage you—“Oh, you don’t want to do it online?”
It’s like buying condoms, or (these days) Benadryl.
It should come as no surprise from an organization that keeps upping the cost of postage (except for junk mailers like pre-approved credit card issuers) every 17 months & is talking about eliminating Saturday mail deliveries along with the next increase. But I find it really annoying that they use what’s already a cost-saving process to suck more money out of us. & I'm happy to do what little I can to foil them.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Moving on (Pt. 4)
I decided when I quit my job that I’d do a spa experience as a symbol of really sloughing off the crap I’ve been through for the past two years. So today I went to the Olympus Spa in Lynnwood for the “paradise package”: body scrub, body wrap & massage.
The scrub was worth the trip; I’m less enthusiastic about the wrap & massage. The wrap is supposed to detoxify you, but I’m not wild about being encased in plastic & goo. It’s kind of like an MRI without the atomic-powered woodpeckers.
& when it comes to massage, I don’t want some pouffy New Age laying on of hands. I want a shiatsu—something that’s going to find the real problem points &give them a Brooklyn shove out of me.
This particular place is Korean, & had multiple “earth energy” rooms, as well as soaking pools of differing temperatures. Kind of like the old Roman bath’s caldarium, tepidarium & frigidarium. Dunno about the purported benefits of the various rooms, but I do have to say that I was pretty much al dente by the time I left, & that really can’t be a bad thing.
While I was out there was another showing of my house. Since I’m scheduled to be on the road out of here a week from today I’m really hoping that this one will elicit an offer.
Meanwhile, I’m really clean, possibly carrying around fewer toxins & may sleep well tonight.
The scrub was worth the trip; I’m less enthusiastic about the wrap & massage. The wrap is supposed to detoxify you, but I’m not wild about being encased in plastic & goo. It’s kind of like an MRI without the atomic-powered woodpeckers.
& when it comes to massage, I don’t want some pouffy New Age laying on of hands. I want a shiatsu—something that’s going to find the real problem points &give them a Brooklyn shove out of me.
This particular place is Korean, & had multiple “earth energy” rooms, as well as soaking pools of differing temperatures. Kind of like the old Roman bath’s caldarium, tepidarium & frigidarium. Dunno about the purported benefits of the various rooms, but I do have to say that I was pretty much al dente by the time I left, & that really can’t be a bad thing.
While I was out there was another showing of my house. Since I’m scheduled to be on the road out of here a week from today I’m really hoping that this one will elicit an offer.
Meanwhile, I’m really clean, possibly carrying around fewer toxins & may sleep well tonight.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Moving on (Pt. 3)
In the category of no good deed ever going unpunished, last November I took on the temporary care of a cat belonging to one of the thousands of fellow employees. Scott quit the company & was moving back to Scotland; he needed someone to look after Fell for six months after a rabies test, so she wouldn’t have to spend time quarantined in a UK kennel.
The Brits call this the Pet Travel Scheme; essentially it means that the animal can spend the six-month quarantine period in your home after both vaccination & testing for rabies. The plan was for Fell to stay with me & then Scott would either return her to collect her or arrange to have her shipped to him. (He appealed to a group of employees on a cats email list; I was the only idiot to respond.)
It hasn’t been a totally felicitous time, as Fell didn’t like my permanent cat, Pele; so I had to keep Fell in the office when I wasn’t around. However, it was temporary, right?
Well, around May, when arrangements should have been made for the travel, I couldn’t raise Scott. No reply to any of my emails. I had to do some Internet sleuthing to find what I thought might be a phone number & have a friend of mine in England call him before he came online late June.
Oh, yes; still planning to get Fell. He’d start the machine turning…
Only next day I received a different communication: well, it’s going to cost $2500, & he can’t afford it…
Uh, that would have been good information to have before he made the grand plans last fall & roped me into caring for her.
The end result is that today I took Fell back to Meow, the shelter she was adopted from & surrendered her back to their care. So I’m the one who essentially abandoned her. She didn’t deserve that, & I feel really lousy that I’m the one she associates with it. (I just couldn’t keep her in my new place & this was never supposed to be a permanent arrangement—I was meant to be helping out for a while.)
Plus, Meow has at least six black cats I could see—Fell’s going to be one of many competing for attention.
Another Seattle event I want to forget about.
The Brits call this the Pet Travel Scheme; essentially it means that the animal can spend the six-month quarantine period in your home after both vaccination & testing for rabies. The plan was for Fell to stay with me & then Scott would either return her to collect her or arrange to have her shipped to him. (He appealed to a group of employees on a cats email list; I was the only idiot to respond.)
It hasn’t been a totally felicitous time, as Fell didn’t like my permanent cat, Pele; so I had to keep Fell in the office when I wasn’t around. However, it was temporary, right?
Well, around May, when arrangements should have been made for the travel, I couldn’t raise Scott. No reply to any of my emails. I had to do some Internet sleuthing to find what I thought might be a phone number & have a friend of mine in England call him before he came online late June.
Oh, yes; still planning to get Fell. He’d start the machine turning…
Only next day I received a different communication: well, it’s going to cost $2500, & he can’t afford it…
Uh, that would have been good information to have before he made the grand plans last fall & roped me into caring for her.
The end result is that today I took Fell back to Meow, the shelter she was adopted from & surrendered her back to their care. So I’m the one who essentially abandoned her. She didn’t deserve that, & I feel really lousy that I’m the one she associates with it. (I just couldn’t keep her in my new place & this was never supposed to be a permanent arrangement—I was meant to be helping out for a while.)
Plus, Meow has at least six black cats I could see—Fell’s going to be one of many competing for attention.
Another Seattle event I want to forget about.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Moving on (Pt. 2)
Ah, Seattle—turns out that once you start trash pick-up service from the city, the only way it ever stops is if the house is demolished. (& since it’s linked to the water and sewer service, ditto for them.)
So the only way I can stop paying for it is when I have a name to transfer it into. That, of course, requires having someone to buy my house, so not yet.
However, here’s a particularly Seattleite twist: for the privilege of not having pick-up service, I can pay $6.85 per month.
I don’t know how they arrived at that figure, but it’s better than what I do pay now; & there's no point in asking a functionary why they're doing what they're doing.
Can’t wait to get out of this burg.
So the only way I can stop paying for it is when I have a name to transfer it into. That, of course, requires having someone to buy my house, so not yet.
However, here’s a particularly Seattleite twist: for the privilege of not having pick-up service, I can pay $6.85 per month.
I don’t know how they arrived at that figure, but it’s better than what I do pay now; & there's no point in asking a functionary why they're doing what they're doing.
Can’t wait to get out of this burg.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Moving on (Pt. 1)
Turns out Seattle is almost as much of a pain to move out of as it is to move in. I wasted two weeks on trying to get one of the local agents for Allied Van Lines (Western, if you want to avoid them, which I recommend) to answer some questions so I could book the move. Even after phone conversations with the owner (“Oh, this is unacceptable, I’ll talk with him.”), the rep couldn’t be arsed to call me back.
Then it turns out that “guaranteed not-to-exceed” estimates aren’t really. The estimator can give you one for ## pounds; & if the driver picking up the load decides it’s too low, he can throw a hissy fit & they’ll demand the dreaded change-order. Plus, there’s the all-purpose moving van company CYA: any further charges are COD at destination.
Of course they are.
(Finally something to make me appreciate what my Seattle employer picked up by way of moving costs. I’m sure they were charged beyond the beyond—even with whatever corporate rates they wrenched out of their provider.)
I’ve got another company booked, & I’m now waiting for the packing day on the 9th. Because my house is still showing, I can’t really do a lot by way of major organization—moving things around would make it look like I live here & screw up the staging.
I’m also trying to eat up stuff in the fridge & freezer, without actually cooking—because, again, cooking would create disturbance in the Fabric of the Stage. This isn’t a problem with berries or bread; but the lamb chops & the fish are a bit of a challenge.
Well, I just keep looking at it all as the price of the ticket out of here.
Then it turns out that “guaranteed not-to-exceed” estimates aren’t really. The estimator can give you one for ## pounds; & if the driver picking up the load decides it’s too low, he can throw a hissy fit & they’ll demand the dreaded change-order. Plus, there’s the all-purpose moving van company CYA: any further charges are COD at destination.
Of course they are.
(Finally something to make me appreciate what my Seattle employer picked up by way of moving costs. I’m sure they were charged beyond the beyond—even with whatever corporate rates they wrenched out of their provider.)
I’ve got another company booked, & I’m now waiting for the packing day on the 9th. Because my house is still showing, I can’t really do a lot by way of major organization—moving things around would make it look like I live here & screw up the staging.
I’m also trying to eat up stuff in the fridge & freezer, without actually cooking—because, again, cooking would create disturbance in the Fabric of the Stage. This isn’t a problem with berries or bread; but the lamb chops & the fish are a bit of a challenge.
Well, I just keep looking at it all as the price of the ticket out of here.
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