Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Christmas parties & the lost art of conversation...

I went out for a birthday dinner the other night with a life-long friend. She was born in November, and I arrived in December, so annually, we'll take ourselves out someplace nice to celebrate each other's day. A very nice tradition that I hope goes on for dozens and dozens more years to come!!

At one point in the evening, the conversation came around to how often it is seen that several people will be together, in the same room, around the same table, yet not a word is being spoken. All heads are bowed in homage to the wonders of the iPhone.



(I will use the term 'iPhone' generically here, because not everyone is as lucky as ME to have received their gold iPhone 5S in the mail today, after an aborted attempt back in May to own one, which ended in tears. But I digress...)

"Yes", I agreed. "No one speaks to each other any more. I'd love to know who they talk / text / email to and what about, for hours and hours and hours at a stretch."

(Maybe I'm about to find out once I power up my new gold iPhone 5S. Have I mentioned already that I got mine today?!?!)

And so our conversation went, and eventually moved on to other commentary of life, the universe and everything. It was a lovely evening.

Tonight, at the supper table after we had eaten, my sister, nephew and I were chatting. The topic rolled around to a couple of Christmas parties we had both heard of recently, and a phenomenon which seems to be gaining in popularity.

Apparently, the 'thing' to do these days at parties is to announce the winners of awards that have been voted on beforehand, involving many (or all) of the attendees. Let me explain that better:

A list of 'awards' is produced, and this list is distributed to all those who will be attending, in the days before the event. Everyone is supposed to fill in names by each award of the person they feel is most deserving, for example:

"The person most likely to spill their coffee on themselves..."

"The person who swears the most..."

"The most helpful person..."

"The person most likely to have a substance abuse problem..."

"The person most likely to receive the most chocolates from clients each Christmas..."

The results are tallied, and the winner of each 'award' is the person who has received the most votes in that category.

So, you see how this goes. Some are flattering, others are edgy, while others are downright hurtful, or certainly have the potential of being interpreted that way.

It was amazing to each of us that we knew of many examples of these kinds of activities occurring this Christmas season. It's clearly not a 'one off', not a unique occurrence. It's going on more often than I would ever have guessed.

The three of us were hashing out, around the table, our thoughts on why groups of otherwise intelligent, educated, mature people, in many and various walks of life, would find what I consider to be juvenile, school-yard-ish behaviour so freakin' amusing. Maybe it's copied from some reality TV show. I don't watch them so I wouldn't make the connection.

I think, though, that I've figured it out. It's very simple:

The art of conversation is lost. Not dying, lost. People do not know how to relate to others anymore. We've become a breed of head-bowed texters, who would rather talk about the weather to someone across town than discuss the same thing, eye to eye, with the people in the same room.


The hours and hours and hours of texting that some people engage in during the run of a single day, every day, cannot all be accounted for with cerebral matters and world-problem-solving. More likely it's one bitching to another about why the garbage wasn't put out that morning. Which leads to another thought...

Why not call?

Why not take 25 seconds to say / ask / tell, versus half an hour typing out thoughts that, because of the lack of non-verbal context, are likely to be misconstrued if the issue is more involved than who's bring home the milk tonight?

I just don't understand.

All I know is this - people are, by degrees, losing the social skill of conversation. Blame it on what you like, but it is happening all around you, me, and everyone else. Personally, I blame it on the "smart" phones, that are making people stupid, one lost conversation at a time.




The most recent example proving this is the advent of these 'awards'. People don't know what to say to co-workers outside of the work setting, so let's conceive conversational 'filler', and when that's done and everyone has been ceremoniously laughed with, or at, then break out the karaoke!!!! ANYTHING but having to talk to one another.

It's sad.

I grew up in a home where each Christmas, my parents held a massive Christmas party, catered, bartender, the works. If my siblings and I had any notion of joining the fun, we had to dress the part, and we had to have a tray of hors d'oeuvres to pass around. It was the single most educational tool in learning the art of conversation which my parents gave me. If I could negotiate a room full of people, from all socio-economic strata with a serving tray, chatting and being charming especially to those who've had a sip too much of Christmas cheer, then I could take on just about any room going.

But now, Christmas parties have devolved to something just a smidgeon above pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. Why are we now satisfied with events that, let's face it, are getting less and less dignified as the seasons progress?

We only have to be satisfied if we allow it, for ourselves. I don't allow it. Not for me. There is nothing I enjoy more than a sublime glass of wine, and a good, hours-long, challenging conversation. There is nothing that I find more tedious than watching adults desperately clinging on to their childhood antics with wrinkly, veiny hands.

Call me a snob. P-f-f-f-f-t!! I've been called worse! I prefer the term 'dignified'. I also like the term 'age-appropriate'. We apply it to activities / toys / movies to which we expose our children. What about those to which we expose ourselves?????

I have nothing more to add to this conversation. ;-)

.

Saturday, November 30, 2013

An online chat with Bell Aliant, or "how to suck the joy of life out of yourself in 5 minutes or less..."

An illustration of yet another fruitless conversation with a Bell Aliant employee.
 
One more reason why I can't get Bell out of my life fast enough to suit me...
 
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
 
Thank you for your patience an online representative will be with you shortly. Your wait time is approximately 0 minute(s).
You are chatting with Faheel.
Your name:
Your number: 709-999-9999

Your question: I received an email 3 hours ago, advising about the change to a Mobility service that will take effect on my next bill, and include the period from now until the next billing date. Problem is... I DID take my nephew to upgrade his phone, yesterday, but ultimately DID NOT UPGRADE THE PHONE, or make any changes to the account. I did not sign anything. Therefore, there should be NO charge associated with anything, as there was nothing changed.
 
Faheel: I'll be glad to help you and check your account.
 
Faheel: Can I have your full name and email address?
 
Margaret: Margaret Xxxxxx
 
 
Faheel: Thank you for that information. Let me goa head and pull up your account.
 
Faheel: Thank you for patiently waiting. U
 
Faheel: May I know your plan for this account?
 
Margaret: Plan???
 
Faheel: Yes, your current monthly plan if you still remember?
 
Margaret: I don't know what you're asking. I have an account, four cell phones on it. I was going to upgrade one of the phones and decided not to. Now I'm getting a notification of a change to the bill that will occur because of a CHANGE THAT WAS NOT MADE. I do not know what you're asking about a 'plan'.
 
Faheel: Okay, Upon checking your account, it appears that you did not upgrade your phone as your contract is still the same from 11/10/2011 until 11/09/2013 but it also shows that you change your plan to Voice and Data Lite $60 starting November 28, 2013.
 
Margaret: There was no change on Nov. 28th. We went to the local Bell outlet, picked out a phone, but when the terms and conditions were reviewed with me, I refused to sign, and the transaction was ended. The original phone was reactivated and everything was to continue as it had been.
 
Margaret: If the guy changed it from what it had been on Nov 27th, then he should have changed it back. I authorized NOTHING.
 
Faheel: Then I strongly suggest for you to go back to the store as I can see on your account your plan was changed on Nov. 28, 2013.
 
Faheel: Or you can also call our client care for this matter.
 
Faheel: The telephone number for our Client Care department is 1 800 667-0123. The office hours are Monday to Friday, 8am to 9pm; Saturday and Sunday, 9am to 6pm.
 
Margaret: Thank you very much. I appreciate the information.
 
Faheel: Thank you for chatting with me. Have a good night!
 
Margaret: You too. (Grrrr...)
 
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
 
I wouldn't believe this if it wasn't happening to me. Daily.
 
As far as I understand, Rogers' service outside of St. John's is poor, but firstly, I rarely venture west of the Overpass except under duress, and secondly, I'd rather revert to Morse Code than deal with Bell for one moment longer than I absolutely have to. Unbeliveable.
 
.
 

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

It's been a long time coming - Bell Aliant & I have broken up



Bell Aliant - you are dead to me.

After all the nightmares I've had with them, first with the Great iPhone Rip-Off of 2013, and throughout the entire span of our time together with crappy internet service, this very morning, the straw that broke the camel's back occurred, and that camel fell right down on top of my last nerve. I said, "Enough is enough!!!" and called Rogers.

The bottom line is that I am now the proud owner of a gold iPhone 5s...




...and my total bill for all of my telecommunications services is $100/month cheaper. I'm pretty much a-quiver with joy!  

What's included, you might ask. This is the package. It includes:

* Home phone - Caller ID, voicemail to email, TV display, 3-way calling, call waiting, call blocking, and unlimited long distance across Canada.

* Internet - 500GB, "Extreme Tier", 30MB download speed, WiFi

* Television - Digital Plus TV package, 270+ channels, 'Anyplace TV' - I can access my subscribed TV channels on any tablet, worldwide, 'Whole Home TV', including 2 HD PVRs and 1 standard box for my little bitty TV in the kitchen. In three years, all I have to do is pay $1 each, and they're mine.

All of this, so far, will be $124.29. I was paying $72 for internet alone, and another $70 for Bell ExpressVu satellite TV, plus $49.95 for the land line with call waiting and caller ID. What was $191.95 + tax is now $124.29 taxes included, a savings of $67.66 + tax every single month. And I haven't even got to talking about the cell phones yet!!

* Mobility - Smartphones x 4. Yes, four. Even *I* will now have one, and not just any smartphone. It will be the above-illustrated shiny new, gold iPhone 5s. We will be sharing 6GB data, whereas right now, the 3 smartphones are sharing 1.5GB data, and I have none. All four will have unlimited text messaging. All will have unlimited calling minutes and unlimited long distance across Canada. All will have call display and voice mail. Four smartphones with unlimited just-about-everything for the cool sum of $237.30. How they work it is that my phone, as the primary phone, will cost $105/mo. The other three will each cost $35/mo. Thirty five dollars a month for a smartphone. Cheaper than what Bell was charging me for my flip-phone.

With my current Bell Mobility situation, I am paying a total of $260.72 for three smartphones and an embarrassing 18th century flip-phone.

NOW, I will have a gold iPhone 5s, and we all will have all the data and texting and long distance and minutes that we could ever want, and it's still $23 cheaper. If I had gotten an iPhone with Bell, I would have been charged over $80 more / month, and the four of us combined would still not have had 6Gb to play with.

So, here it is, $100 / month cheaper. Everyone with the phones they want, all the bells and whistles, two HD PVRs where at the moment I have only one, a firm promise of superior Internet service, and I'm saving $100/month.

And, what is interesting to me is that Rogers, from the moment you call and say, "what can you do for me", assigns you a customer service rep - somewhere around Toronto - and this is your person. You call this person, directly, with any questions / issues / concerns. Not some generic, foreign call center. Serge, who's first language is English, is my guy, and will be as long as he's with Rogers. I called him back twice today about different things. What a joy it was not to have to re-tell my story to every living soul in India. Whoever answers the phone, I just had to say, "May I speak to Serge, please?" If he's away from his desk, they give him a message, and he'll call back, promptly. It works. The human touch is back.

I told Serge that my sordid history with Bell is well-documented on the Internet, and I would be equally merciless with Rogers, if the same nonsense starts happening. He laughed and said he was very confident that it would never come to that. I had to rant and roar countless times with Bell before they gave me a name and a number to call, and even then, I fell through some mighty big cracks in their universe.

 


This might be a logo they've adopted, but things have to get pretty freakin' bad before they decide they want to "talk".

I haunted them, over and over, admittedly, but in essence I was very patient, and gave them multiple opportunities to put things right, but my patience was not rewarded, and was not without limits. The time has come to give Rogers a chance.




Boy, oh boy, oh boy... I sure as heck hope they don't let me down.

.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Christmas Pudding Day!!

Today my house smelled like a Christmas wonderland, and there's only one reason for that - today is the day I made my Christmas puddings. Well, to be completely accurate, one will be a Christmas pudding while the other will be our Easter pudding.

For something I make only once a year, I have to say, quite immodestly, that I do a helluva job.

Here is how they came to be:



All of the ingredients, ready to be poured, cracked, chopped, peeled, weighed and / or measured. 



 The dry stuff, the wet stuff, the lightly floured stuff and the grated stuff.



I started out stirring, but soon had to give that up. On went the food-grade gloves, and the hand-mixing commenced.

This pot is very important to the process. It is one of my mother's original set of Wearever pots and pans from when she was married, over 60 years ago. No Christmas pudding would be the same without it.



All mixed up, and now all tucked away into the two pudding moulds. Yumminess in the raw.

For the grammar-obsessives out there like myself, be assured that the word 'mold' and 'mould' are interchangeable in all uses, such as a form or frame for shaping or filling, or in reference to fungal growth, etc. 'Mold' tends to be used in the USA while (or 'whilst') 'mould' tends to be associated with the UK. Live and learn!



Onto the stove they go, for three hours of steaming. Both moulds have supports underneath so the puddings are not receiving direct heat from the burner. I'd top them up with boiling water from the kettle every 45 minutes, so the moulds stay about 2/3's submerged. Both the moulds and the pots are kept covered throughout.



The finished products. Dessert is ready! Except for the brown sugar sauce, of course.

There was a time when I feared they would fall apart coming out of the moulds. That could possibly be attributed to the fact that it has happened, more than once. Not in recent years, but I do admit to acute feelings of trepidation at that fateful moment, even now. The trick, so I've learned, is to ensure they are well-steamed. One of these did not seem as done as the other, so I gave it an extra 30 minutes. The pots I steam them in are different, and I'm sure this makes a difference.

I burned them once, and only once, and that was because I left the burners on 'high' when they were steaming. This is not necessary. Once the water begins to boil (which I allow before I put the moulds in), I then turn down the heat to medium, or whatever setting is needed to allow a slow boil throughout. The water does not need to be at a full, rollicking boil.

I remember once about 10 years ago, it was a horrible, stormy, cold snowy night when I was making my puddings. A perfect night for it! At least it was, until the phone rang, and the next thing I knew, I was on a private jet with my colleague Ian, flying to Florida on a medevac flight to bring two people home to Newfoundland. I didn't know what was going to become of my puddings when I first got the call, they had just started steaming! By the time the flight logistics were worked out, they were whipped out of the pots, out of the moulds, and left to cool while I took off, hoping to get to the Torbay side of the airport to get this flight. One of my many adventures and fond memories, but the only one related to the making of my Christmas puddings!

I'm not sure where I found the recipe, but it has met with my sister's seal of approval. It's not sickly sweet, as so many are. It does not have cherries, which is important to her, but it does have carrot, which is a nice, colorful touch. These will be the puddings I make, as long as I have strength enough to mix 'em!

The recipe is available upon request. I was going to post it, then I thought, "naw". If I made it too easy for people to get, then they mightn't value it as I do. Can't have that!!

.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Lady Gag. No, I did not forget the second 'a'...

So, Miley Cyrus does her thing at the VMAs, gets a world of attention, and then the mundanely predictable happened.... some other half-wit star, in this case Lady Gaga, gets her nose out of joint because of all the deflected attention and ups the game, getting stark naked on stage at a gay bar in London.

WHO did NOT see this coming?!?! The only unpredictable variable in this very predictable scene was that it was a gay bar. Everything else? Yawn.

Man, oh man, how I yearn for the era of singers who sing. We've suffered through the era of Elvis-ian gyrations, fraudulent lip sync-ers, cone bras, two-foot high platform shoes, headset-microphones-as-a-style-accessory, and computerized vocals. Now, the only thing left was to get naked. But I think I may be wrong. It will be full-bore penetration next, and not with a foam finger.

Video did, indeed, kill the radio star.

Ironically, "Video Killed the Radio Star" by a one-hit-wonder band with the unlikely name The Buggles, was the first video shown in the US on the new station, MTV, on August 1st, 1981.


 
 
It's been downhill at the speed of sound since then. Music has taken a second place to spectacle.
 
 
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Wednesday, October 23, 2013

The latest NDP antics - Political theater at its most amateurish

I am almost incontinent with delight over the current NDP debacle. If this makes me a bad person, then I'm the devil incarnate.

First of all, I am no political animal. My field of expertise is tax-paying. When I see happening what I see happening from time to time, among people for whom I not only pay salaries, but in one instance, have representing me in the House of Assembly, then up upon my high horse I get, and out comes the laptop.

The side story to the headline of Lorraine Michael's current woes is this:

I am sick-sick-sick-sick-sick and tired-tired-tired-tired-tired and fed up-fed up-fed up-fed up-fed up with having to listen to the supposedly all-knowing news media types do everything within their power to ruin Kathy Dunderdale. And what has she done to deserve this censure? Well, let's see...

 - She's negotiating the best deal for Muskrat Falls that she can get for this province, knowing full well that what is agreed upon will positively affect our children's children's children. This is the polar opposite of what Joey did vis a vis Churchill Falls. What he did positively affected Quebecker's children's children's children. Not ours. For 99 years. Still burning in hell, I hope...

 - She has already, in just the past few months, settled contract negotiations with two of the major provincial unions, CUPE & NAPE, without strikes. Bravo!

They're just the two most recent big hits. I could go on, but this post is not about Kathy Dunderdale. It is about those fiesty NDP-ers, and how they're in the process of committing political suicide. Oooo, baby!!!

So, here we are, those of us who watch the news regularly, being told that Kathy Dunderdale should resign!!! They're not so swift to detail reasons beyond poll numbers, but if those being polled are being served a steady diet of "she has to go because she has poor poll numbers", then is it not reasonable to think that people will say, "Hmm, she has to go because of poor poll numbers"?? A vicious circle if ever there was one.

And all this time, here we are, believing that all must be well in the Orange Camp. They went from a sole MHA to a whopping five - a provincial political party that could still fit in a Volkswagen Beetle, assuming Lorraine is driving and George is runnin' shotgun, mind you. (I thought about using a Smart Car reference, but then thought the better of it...) But they grew! And grew and grew and grew. How can there be discontent? Kathy Dee is being hung out to dry by the media, because that's what they do to Conservatives. What's not to rejoice over? Lorraine is the ex officio media darling. Everything that happens? Sure as there's poop in a cat, there's a microphone in Lorraine's face, and she's not even the Official Opposition. A chill was surely working its way up the collective spine of those of us who might end up, one day, paying for all of the typical NDP Utopian promises. Gulp.

Then... WHOOMP!! The Email.

George Murphy, Gerry Rogers, Dale Kirby and Christopher Mitchelmore sent an email to Lorraine Michael this past Sunday, asking for a leadership review in 2014, well enough ahead of the next provincial election in 2015 to establish the victor as the accepted face of the party. This act of party disloyalty came almost straight on the heels of Ms. Michael singlehandedly increasing the NDP representation the way she did, her leadership garnering her first place in polls of political party leaders.

Dale Kirby, the purported ringleader of the mutiny, is all about doing this 'for the good of the party'. Really, Dale? Really? Was increasing the MHA representation by 400% not enough for you? If you and your partners in crime really felt this way, though, why not, then, have a meeting, a face-to-face, and discuss the future of the party over a private beer or two? Why the mutinous, not to mention cold, calculating and cowardly and media-publishable email, on the day the woman gets back from a month long vacation in India?

Now mind you, the thought of Lorraine Michael trying to negotiate an agreement on Muskrat Falls is little more than slapstick comedy to anyone with a political bone in their body. Having her wave a wand, thereby having free day-care centers on every corner and everyone on social assistance (very Obama-esque), and the remaining 10 of us paying for it all is fiction at its finest. But all of this would be no different than what any other NDP-er would promise. It's what socialists do!! That said, no one who has put themselves 'out there' in the political forum, in the public eye, deserves this. Kathy Dunderdale doesn't, and neither does Lorraine Michael. Dwight Ball, on the other hand.... No!! Just kidding, just kidding! (Sort of...)

Michael says she felt betrayed, and so she should, but that's not the best of it -

Now, all of a sudden, two or three days on, the back-stabbing has reverted to backpedaling, and two of them are at it in earnest, particularly former taxi driver / gas price announcer George Murphy, and to a lesser extent, Gerry Rogers and her well-documented left breast.

GMAFB. Amateurs, one and all. I've seen more parliamentary decorum on a school playground, deciding who's going to be on who's team.

Do these people seriously think that their apologies are going to repair their disloyal and cutthroat image now? Will falling on their swords save the party from the ridicule it so richly deserves in the wake of this? If this is the way they deal with each other, God help those of us who might be governed by them.


 George Murphy: One face of the NDP Mutineers.
Yeah, I'd hang my head in shame, too, you mislead rookie.

And there's George Murphy, saying that in his mind, it was going to be an endorsement of Michael's leadership! WOW. George, b'y, get your muffler checked. I think the gas is getting to you.

I'll give Dale Kirby credit for one thing - at least he's sticking to his guns. Christopher Mitchelmore, whoever the heck he is (I never heard of him before today) is just saying that he stands by his signature. A real rabble-rouser in the party there, wha'? Meanwhile, George Murphy looked like he was going to burst into tears on NTV News tonight, waxing effusive in his love for and admiration of Lorraine. It was embarrassing to watch. Don't get rid of your taxi license just yet, George.

One other thing that occurs to me is this... if this series of events had happened to Kathy Dunderdale, there would be wall-to-wall breaking news coverage, and you'd need dentists to dislodge the microphones from Lorraine Michael and Dwight Ball, and they'd take their time getting there. So, where are the cameras and microphones begging for Kathy Dunderdale to weigh in on her political foe's woes? Chances are good that she'd rise above the fray. It's what people who know how to behave in public do. But yet again, as always, it's very interesting to see how slanted the media really is when their darling is being challenged. Fascinating.

I think it's safe to say that Lorraine Michael's meteoric rise in the polls, to first place even, will now be a thing of the past. Even if she gets the sympathy nod in the polls, which she might, the public will not want to elect a party of people that have displayed, at the first sign of good times, malicious and damaging hijinks, almost guaranteed to decimate their party. If they do that to friends and colleagues, what the heck would they do to their enemies?!?!?!

I am delighted, of course. It's always satisfying to see chickens coming home to roost. Too bad for them that the egg they laid was so scrambled.

And that's no yolk.

.

Thursday, September 26, 2013

"No worries there"... The rise, and (hopefully) eventual fall of that dreadful word, 'Newfie'

Recently, there have been all these polls, asking Newfoundlanders whether or not they are offended by the term "Newfie". It absolutely stuns me to learn that about two-thirds of us think it's just dandy. Well, that's really just two-thirds of people who agree to participate in polls on NTV News, or take the time to answer pollsters on the telephone. I'm hoping that's a tiny minority of us.

Me? It makes my fingers twitch just having to type the word, let alone what it does to me on those rare occasions when I am actually forced to say it.

This is a topic that I've wanted to write about since the inception of this blog. It is the one topic, so close to my heart, to which I know that I can never do justice in expressing why that word is so wrong and so insulting and so hurtful to me, and should be thought of as wrong in the minds of my fellow Newfoundlanders.

When I was very young, I remember going to Dominion on Elizabeth Avenue to get groceries with Mom. While I was there, I asked for and got a small blue book of Newfie jokes. I thought this was GREAT!! Keep in mind - this was the 60s. Newfoundland was a small (population-wise), insular, oil-free island, hardly ever mentioned on the national news broadcasts, and when we were, they invariably pronounced it wrong. New-FOUND-lund. Still gives me the creeps. But, yes, I thought my little book of Newfie jokes was great! "Wow, Mom, someone wrote a book about us!!" I read the jokes, and I laughed at them. I was eight. Give me a break.

But then I grew up. My eight-year-old pride, which was happy with a book of bad, insulting jokes, grew out of that and grew into a patriotic pride, that saw the damage that such words can do. Other people changed and saw that damage, too. Sadly, the polls are saying that about two-thirds of us did not change, and they still just don't get it.

Newfoundland grew up too, at least it did politically and socio-economically. As the years went by, Newfoundland gained prominence not only on the national stage, but internationally as well.

There are so many things to be proud of, as Newfoundlanders:

 - We are the only country in the world that paid its war debt from WWI.

 - We lost over 700 men in the Battle of Beaumont Hamel, of whom it was said, "It was a magnificent display of trained and disciplined valour, and its assault only failed of success because dead men can advance no further." Major-General Sir Beauvoir De Lisle

 - Our men, particularly from the area of Harbour Main, are world-renowned as some of the best 'high steel' workers in the world, contributing to the construction of the Empire State Building and the Brooklyn Bridge, among others. Their fearless ability to work at great heights was, and is, legendary.

 - Ralph Klein, late premier of Alberta, rather than opine about building a fence to keep the Newfoundlanders out, should have thanked each and every one for building his oil sands empire from, literally, the ground up.

 - For 500 years, we had a thriving fishery. It wasn't until it was used as a pawn by the Federal Government that our fishing heritage was decimated to the edge of extinction, as we sat on the shore, watching European freezer trawlers hauling it all away.

 - We have a unique culture that other provinces, particularly Quebec, do not have.

 - We have endured tragedies - the 1914 SS Newfoundland Sealing Disaster, the USS Truxton and USS Pollux disaster, the Ocean Ranger disaster, the sinking of countless ships along our shores - with a resilience of character you just won't find anywhere else.

 - Speaking of tragedies, on September 11th, 2001, Newfoundlanders offered comfort, support, food, clothes, a roof and a bed to thousands and thousands of people from all over the globe, who suddenly found themselves here in the wake of the terrorist attacks.

 - We have the unique distinction of having remarkable, beautiful and elegant dogs named after both parts of our province; the storied Newfoundland dog, and the affectionate Labrador in all its varied hues.




 - We're probably the only place on earth that has a carnivorous plant as its honored flower.

 


 - And, have you actually gone outside and looked around? This is the most beautiful land God created, in all its harsh ruggedness. Stunning, really.




 - The Arts. We had an artistic community here in Newfoundland long before the LSPU Hall was used as anything other than a union hall. Mary and Christopher Pratt, world caliber artists. EJ Pratt, who gave us poetry...

Erosion
 
It took the sea a thousand years,
A thousand years to trace
The granite features of this cliff,
In crag and scarp and base.
 
It took the sea an hour one night,
An hour of storm to place
The sculpture of those granite seams
Upon a woman's face.


...Writers and musicians. Actors and producers. A cultural potpourri of which we can be very proud.

And the list could go on. And on and on and on.

Sadly, despite everything we have to be intensely proud of, that word followed us, with its images of square rolling pins, and drunk fishermen, all those images that are so unfair and unrepresentative and insulting and offensive and belittling. WHY don't people get that?

Here's another word that underscores my point. One word. "Snook". Enough said.

Nope, I've changed my mind. Enough has NOT been said. It appalls me that our provincial newcaster will give this person a platform to spout his personal politics while standing there like an idiot, personifying every horrible "Newfie" stereotype out there. It absolutely appalls me. I equate it to a broadcaster in an African-American community having someone come on in blackface, ridiculing that community. Is there a difference? If so, I don't see it.

No one behaves like Snook here. No one speaks like that. But NTV, "Canada's Superstation", wants all its worldwide satellite viewers to believe otherwise, or else why would they give him that exposure?

I understand that Pete Soucy, who portrays "Snook", is very vocal about his intense dislike of the word "Newfie", too, and has discussed it on television. My initial reaction when I first heard this was, "What a bloody hypocrite!!!!" If that's the case, Pete, you might want to rethink the whole "Snook" thing. The character may not use the word, but he personifies it to a tee. Just awful, embarrassing and depressing.

We were dragged into this country in 1949. Your average Canadian didn't want us. Your average St. John's-man didn't want any part of it, either, but the Baby Bonus won the day. Our fate, and that of this island, was sealed.

Precision
According to the elemental proposition
the island
should not have been there;
but it withstood the assault
from all compass points
of unpunctilious waves
that struck out blindly
taking only
the weakest parts of the rocks:

And the men
were not broken by the sea.

But other
horn-rimmed, vertically moving
half-men
knowing nothing of the taste of tears
drew neat, symmetrical
paradigms
and did
on some leisurely afternoons
what the sea could not do
in a thousand years.
Enos Watts, Long Pond, Nfld., (1939 -  )

Yes, nature couldn't do it, but Joey could.

The Canadians didn't know what to make of us. For God's sake, they weren't even interested enough to learn how to pronounce our name correctly. All they knew was that there weren't very many of us, we had a kind of Irish-ish accent, and fishing was our thing. Not high finance. Not maple syrup producers. Not wheat farmers. Fishermen. That was us, as far as they knew. So, the stereotyping began.

Have you ever seen a caricature of a Newfoundlander in a suit and tie? In a pair of work coveralls? In a nurse's uniform? No, you have not. The sou'wester and oilskins were our 'uniform'. And stupid things coming out of our mouths with a quaint dialect was our schtick. Enter "Snook".

They got around the issue of our unpronouncable (to them!) name by shortening it up to something that their forked tongues could handle. Newfie. But never once was it said in a tone of respect or politeness. It was always an insult, trivializing our proud name, the rich city mouse putting the poor country mouse in its place.

All of which is what makes me want to scream out at the top of my lungs - WHY DO NEWFOUNDLANDERS PERPETUATE THIS WORD?? WHY DO SO MANY THINK THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH IT?? WHY CAN'T NEWFOUNDLANDERS SEE THIS WORD FOR THE INSULT IT IS???

I will concede this much. Not every time it is used is it used as an insult. That IS the way it was conceived, but times have changed, if only a very little bit. I have met many people from both Canada and the USA who have used the term - ignorantly - as a term of endearment. This is because some idiot Newfoundlander in their past told them it was, and told them "That's fine!! Nuttin' wrong wit it, b'y!! We loves dat!!!"

Yeah, well, that idiot Newfoundlander was NOT speaking for ME, because there is EVERYTHING wrong with it. As I even state in the "About Me" section on the home page of this blog, I hate "...the other 'N' word...", because that is exactly the comparison I use. I would love to live long enough to see the day that Newfoundlanders would clue in, and decide, as African Americans did, that the 'N' word is off limits. The blacks in the States still have some internal education to do on that score, but they've made headway in the larger picture. We, on the other hand, are still encouraging the use of our own 'N' word, so the chances of me living to see that day are essentially nil.

Rest assured, I have taken it on as a personal mission to educate my fellow global citizens that "Newfie" is no term of endearment, and I'll continue to enlighten them, one-by-one-by-one if I have to, until the day I die.

I said that not every time it is used, is it used as an insult. However, one thing I know, from personal experience, is that it MOST DEFINITELY IS used as an insult more often than not. Don't let my little concession there lead you to believe that I'm softening on the issue. Will. Never. Happen.

Let me tell you just one of my tales of when it was no "term of endearment"...

I lived in Fort McMurray, Alberta for eight years, back in the late 80's / early 90's. I knew nothing about the town before I went there, but soon learned that it was populated by a large faction of Newfoundlanders, there to work in the oil sands. Admirable. Where there's work, you'll find us. No surprise there.

There were a lot of non-Newfoundlanders there too, of course, from all over Canada and the rest of the world, as well.

One woman I met there, I'll call her Karen (because that was her name), she and I became friends. She was from Alberta. She had a husband and two daughters, the youngest being around the age of eight at the time of this tale.

Karen and I were going out on the town one night, a girls night out. I went to her house to pick her up, and sat in the living room with her husband while she finished getting ready. Her daughter came in and sat by her Dad. Ken (because that was his name) asked me where I was from. I answered, "Newfoundland." Without pausing for breath, the little girl started in a singsong voice, "Goofy Newfie, goofy Newfie, goofy Newfie..." and would not stop until her father demanded that she stop.

I sat there in wide-eyed shock. It was stunningly awful on the face of it, but I had to ask myself, WHERE ON EARTH does an eight year old child learn this, and know enough to use it as an insult? Was it her parents? Was it in school? I have to say that I never thought the same of Karen & Ken after that. He made her stop, but he did not apologize, and did not look embarrassed, as parents generally tend to do when their children insult guests.

Maybe she learned it on the radio. After all, Stompin' Tom Connors (may he rot in the pits of Hell) made a fortune singing that despicable song, that I will not quote here, thereby giving a certain validity to the bigotry.

So, all I can say with 100% certainty is that there is no context where that word is anything but an insult. Even if some unknowing mainlander THINKS he's being endearing, the insult goes deeper than his or her ignorance. That word was conceived in hatred and disdain, even if it is trying to morph into something acceptable. It hasn't, it can't and it never will.

Back in July, 2012, I had a brief but very satisfying Twitter conversation with Allan Hawco, star of "Republic of Doyle". His initial tweet was concerning an Op-ed piece from the New York Times about the history of Newfoundland, and how if things had gone differently, July 22, 1948 would have been Newfoundland's Independence Day.




It was a very interesting article, full of historical references that every Newfoundlander should have been taught in school, but of course, wasn't. The only downside to the article was that the writer felt compelled to use that word. Dammit.

So, Allan Hawco tweeted the above, and I responded...




Couldn't fit all I wanted to say in one 140-character tweet, so I had to do Part 2.




And then I got a reply... three words that made me ecstatically happy, so happy that I used them in the title of this blog post.




So, to you Newfie-word lovers, I have a question or two to ask that you may or may not be able or willing to answer, but you may want to think about as you carry on, blissfully insulting at least one-third of your fellow Countrymen...

WHY, when you know that a significant portion of society finds this word offensive, do you continue to use it? (You probably think it's cool and edgy to say "retarded" nearly every second word, too, but that's another rant for another day...)

WHY, when any entertainer worth his or her salt (and also Pete Soucy), refuses to be associated with it, do you continue to think it's cool to use?

WHY, have you ever wondered, do you never hear the word used by anyone in the media, news, radio, or by any politician?

WHY do you think that being associated with square rolling pins, and mugs with the handles inside and all the rest of that abhorrent nonsense is anything other than insulting? Were YOUR ancestors that stupid that they used things like that? Where the hell did all that even come from?

So, all of you who think "Newfie" is cute, or funny, or represents who we are, consider this - Yes, we speak differently than those from Canada. Ridicule us for it? Not a chance. Those who care about our image in the world promote it, proudly...




If we are all "Newfies", why, then, do none of these tourism ads use the word? Consider that. If it was such a great, renowned "term of endearment", as its defenders like to call it, then why hasn't the Department of Tourism taken it and run with it? Because it's not.
It. Is. NOT.

It's very PC these days to pronounce oneself nonjudgemental. We're all brothers and sisters of Mother Earth, no matter our differences, isn't that the way it's supposed to be? Well, let me tell you this... you use That Word, I judge you. Harshly.

Long may your big jib draw.

.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Bell Aliant strikes again!!!

It's not like this came as a surprise.

Last Monday, I was home, surfing the Internet from time to time, having to reboot from time to time because of increasingly frequent loss of my connection. While this might bother / annoy / enrage / bewilder some folk, to me, it was business as usual. I have become so inured to the vagaries of Bell Aliant and their products and service that it hardly flickered on my radar...

...until...

I (actually, it was my nephew) could no longer reconnect. Now, I was in a pickle. I was going to have to actually TALK to someone at Bell, and that tends to go well so rarely that I dread it worse than needles in my eyes.


However!!! I had one last ace up my sleeve that just might save the day....

This situation was not new to me. On average, I lose my Internet connection approximately every 3 - 6 months. When it first started happening, I would call Bell, go through the interminable menues, and finally speak to someone who would direct me to connect the ethernet cable between the laptop and modem, type in this and that, and voila, my connection would be restored - for another 3 - 6 months. I've had this friendly chat with their call-center personnel approximately 15 times. The reason that number is so low, when one considers every 3 - 6 months x I-don't-know-how-many-years, is because in the meantime, I learned to type, and managed to type up the steps and passwords and magic while on the phone with the tech, asking discreet but valuable questions, and was therefore able to do it ALL BY MYSELF!! I felt like I had the keys to the kingdom!

It didn't always work out so neatly, though. Sometimes, it was bigger than the both of us, so the tech would have to ship me a new modem. So, for 3 - 5 business days, I'd be S.O.L. and living off the grid.

I asked the tech one time if it was typical for every Bell Aliant customer to have to call in at a rate of once every 3 - 6 months to get their modems reset. He said "yes". Big-fat-stupid-ugly-stinky liar.

I asked one of the more recent techs if this was the same level of service experienced by Stephen Harper, or by persons with home businesses. That tech just laughed. At least he didn't lie to me.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Here is the story of the latest Bell Aliant saga.

That day last week, I was using my 5th modem. Meet "Five of Six"...



I get a new one of those sent to me on average about every 1 - 1 1/2 years. So now, here I was, Five was starting to act up. GMAFB.

Five resided on a wall in my downstairs mud room.



Why that is, only a Bell Aliant Technician can tell you. It used to reside in my living room, on my desk, but for some reason, it was felt that the mud room was THE-E-E place for it to be. Looking at it now, just hanging there upside down... I wonder if all the blood rushed to its feet, and THAT'S why they kept crapping out? Food for thought.

You may notice, near the right upper corner of the moden, a hat pin stuck into the wall.




On the back of the modem is a little wee hole, that I would have to stick a pin into, in order to reset it. Instead of having to hunt one down time after time, I found it much more convenient to just drive one into the wall, to have it handy when I needed it because, by God, I was definitely going to need it. Again, and again, and again.

So, this night of nights last week, when I found myself banished to the Information Wilderness, I tucked my trusty laptop under my wing and set off for the mud room. My nephew had already attempted resuscitation, unsuccessfully, but I was not without hope. I had gotten the damnable thing going in the past, using the aforementioned ace up my sleeve, after having been told by a Bell Aliant Tech (or BAT for short, and for truth) that all hope was lost.

I balanced my laptop on top of my golf clubs, then took the pin and reset the modem. I turned it off, counted to ten, then powered up again. I reset it with the pin again. No go. I connected the yellow ethernet cable, and typed in the 192.XXX.X.X number I had written down, but nothing happened. No blue screen, the doorway to nirvana, no nothing. I was sad. I feared I was backing into the corner of defeat, which was exactly where I found myself. I was going to have to talk to a BAT.

*sob*

So I called. In actual fact, I asked my nephew to call, because I was so afraid that I was going to rant and rave at this poor sod who didn't deserve my wrath. (For those who wonder, I DO know the difference...)

Dear Nephew went down over the stairs, and confirmed it... the power light was RED, not GREEN. The modem was dead. No Code Blue, no nuthin' was going to save it. No aces up my sleeve, no workarounds, not even bashing it against the wall, which I did. (What did I have to lose?)




The BAT told my nephew those dreaded words, "Three to five business days", and bid him a good night.

This was a Monday night. I could be looking at being offline for a week, if the "five business days" is on the table. I picked up the phone and called back the BAT. I told her my life history with Bell Aliant, and asked if a service technician could come to my home to see what the ongoing, malignant problems were with a system that is SO FREAKIN' UNRELIABLE. She said she tried to "put in a ticket" but the system wouldn't allow her to do that. All she could offer me was a phone-in system check once the new modem arrived, but no one was able to come to my home. Wow.

I asked if it was possible to pay for an overnight courier. Bell Aliant is the single most expensive utility I pay - even higher than my mortgage - so I thought they might cut me some slack, or at the very least offer that possibility. NOPE. Was there somewhere in the St. John's metropolitan region where I could pick one up? NOPE. Had to come from the mainland. Bell Aliant has NO EXTRA MODEMS IN NEWFOUNDLAND FOR THEIR CUSTOMERS. Very impressive fact to learn. The BAT reassured me, though, that seeing as how I was in a city, it would likely be closer to the three days than the five. Oh, joy.

So I sit, and I wait. I was in the middle of posting a series of posts on my blog about my transatlantic journey in 2006, and now that series was going to be interrupted. I pay my bills and do all of my banking online, but not that week. I truly believe Bell thinks everyone uses the Internet for nothing but porn, hence their total lack of any sense of urgency to provide uninterrupted, or even MINIMALLY interrupted service to their paying-through-the-nose clients.

Here I sat, with a crapped out modem. What to do, what to do, what to do??? So, I came up with a couple of ideas for what a Bell Aliant Modem COULD be good for, and seeing as how I had three to five days to test my theories, that's just what I did. SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENTS!!!!!!!


It made a butt-ugly and rather dangerous doorstop. FAIL.


 It was effective as a paperweight, but the aesthetics were less than pleasing. FAIL.


 The potential for smell and goopy plastic-y sludge made the modem an inadquate source of kindling. FAIL.


There was a moment where I liked the idea of a tech-y looking coaster, but... 


...the top curvature of it made the risk of red wine stains more of a detriment than a benefit. FAIL.

My scientific experiments were for naught.

So, I waited and waited and waited. I even made sure that I put a "broken" sign on the doorbell (which is, indeed, broken), so that I wouldn't miss the delivery, should it come to my home. The last several modem packages were about the size of a laptop box, so I wasn't expecting it to be left in my mailbox.

However, I did check my mailbox, and lo and behold, on Friday, there was a package!!! A wee tiny package, but a package nonetheless!!! Woo hoo!!!!


 
 
"They're making these modems very high-tech if they're so small nowadays", I thought as I anxiously drove home, the aroma of the vast world wide web permeating my consciousness, or maybe it was a dead bug from my mailbox. Whatever. I was soon going to be back online, where the American NSA can find me if they want me, no sweat.




The "from" address was one I knew well. It was like getting a package from an old friend, a senile one who sends me crappy stuff, but a package all the same.




I got home, and ripped open the packaging!! A little white box emerged!!! This is so cool!!!!




When I say "little", I mean "little"!! There's a teacup for comparison... What a cool modem THIS is going to be!!!!

Then I opened the box.




The first seeds of doubt took root. I took the device out of the box. The seeds of doubt grew like muscles on 'roids.




I am not the most technically savvy person in the world (which would qualify me to be a top-notch BAT), but I know a standard, run-of-the-mill, nondescript power adapter when I see one, and that's exactly what I saw. No nifty teeny weeny modem, no magic in a little package, none of the above. It was an adapter. I had a smidge of trouble "adapting" to that reality.




But, it wasn't the adapter's fault that it had nothing to adapt. It looked as forlorn as I did, just lying there, a plug with nothing to power up. It was sad, in a Bell-Aliant-incompetance kind of way.

I mopped up my tears, gave the adapter a AAA battery to play with, hoping it would cheer him up, and then I took on the latest BAT.

The lady, her name was Sharon, should be working for someone else, someone who appreciates her competance and ability to think on her feet, make decisions, and right wrongs. No, I am not being sarcastic. If anyone knows a BAT named Sharon who lives in Moncton, please give her a job worthy of her skills. She is lost in the underworld subculture of Bell Aliant.

I explained my tale of woe to Sharon, apologizing right off the bat for my overabundance of frustration at what had just transpired. One of her first comments was to express frustration of her own that, based on my history, the Monday night BAT said she couldn't send someone to my home to fix this. Sharon felt that should have been do-able, no problem. But missus on Monday said no, so I had to wait a week while she sent me an adapter. What a friggin' joke.

Sharon made it happen. Arranged for a service technician to come to my house the very next morning. And what do you think happened?? YUP, a service technician showed up at my house the next morning, bearing a brand new shiny modem, "Six of Six", now situated in my living room, where it should have been all along.




I wonder where he got it? I thought they could only come from the mainland and it took three to five business days to get here!!! Imagine my shock!!! He must know somebody!!!!

Isn't it sweet? You can even see little glowing green lights. Not a red one to be seen. Awwww!!!!

So, the young man, who told me that those other gray modems were what they in the industry call "job security", went on his merry way. He was going to take the old modem and adapter with him, but I knew a blog post was in the making, and nothing enhances a blog post like a little 'show and tell'.

Allow me, then, to show and tell what happened to the old gray modem, once dude left the house...



 
 


It needed to die.

And once it did, I buried it, right alongside its four older siblings, who went the same way...



So there, boys and girls, is my latest saga involving Bell Aliant. IF ONLY I had ANY confidence that it would be my last!!!

On that note, here's a warning to you, Six, you shiny new little black modem - I swear to God Almighty that I'll rip those ear-like antennae off you in a New York minute if you should DARE give me 1/1,000,000th of the grief I suffered at the whim of your ancestors. I know where you live...



UPDATE - September 30, 2013

Well, I heard back from Bell Aliant, after posting my blog post on their Facebook page and on Twitter. Missus called this morning, "very concerned" about all the trouble I've been having. She said someone should have come out to inspect the situation. I told her the call center person said that could not happen. She said, and I quote, "*I* can make that happen." So, I gave her my availability, and she said she'd call back.

Four-thirty this afternoon, she calls back to say, ummm, ahhhhh, they're NOT sending anyone to my house. They are going to "monitor" my new modem, and if there's further trouble, they'll get back to me, or I can get back to them. Whatever. Oh yes, and I get $15 off my high-speed / month x 1 year.

I'm rarely this underwhelmed, but that's the only adjective I can come up with that even remotely describes my feelings on this. Underwhelmed, and not at all surprised.

Why is the federal government so danged set on blocking any real competition for Bell and Rogers? Verizon would have given both of them a run for their money, but the feds blocked that from happening. The feds are more interested in making Bell and Rogers very very rich, versus encouraging fair competition which would benefit their constituents. Pathetic.



.

The Sail Home Newsletter, 2006, Day 13 - The End of the Voyage

Monday, September 25th, 2006

Hello from the Terra Nova Field!

Well, we've finally arrived!!!!



According to the skipper, our official "EOSP", End of Sea Passage, was at 5.24 a.m. NDT. That's all well and good, but when I was outside around 8 a.m., we were still steaming along, passing by other rigs that normally aren't close by, so we WEREN'T at our location, despite what the Old Man says! The supply ship wasn't towing us anymore, we were making headway all by ourselves. Around noon-ish, they were telling me that we were "hove to" about 5 km downwind from the Henry Goodrich oil rig. I found it odd that we needed to be downwind, but apparently that was in case we blacked out again, and started drifting towards the Goodrich, and us without an anchor. Our reputation precedes us!! Bwahahahahaha!!!

Yup, it's all over but the cryin'. It was easy to tell that we're 'home' – nothing but R-D-F out here all day long. That's Rain, Drizzle and Fog, by the way, a staple of Newfoundland weather for you who have not yet had the pleasure. Why is it that London fog is "romantic" but ours is "dreary". Bad PR, I guess. Maybe we needed a Jack the Ripper to give our fog some mysterious ambience.

After that sky last night that could easily have been mistaken for the tropics, is was a drag to wake up to drizzly foggy yucky skies this morning. But we're HOME-HOME-HOME, and that's worth putting up with a bit of 'pea soup'.

The helicopters are now coming with a vengeance – two today, three coming tomorrow, most with new people who require an orientation, one of my many responsibilities. So, I was out and about a lot today. I don't mind giving the tours too much when I'm not busy. It's nice to meet new people and see their awe at the place. But, this past week, I've been flat out busy, and I'm never catching up! I had the highest patient visit count ever for one week this past week, since I've been working offshore (9 years). I had 94 patients cross my threshold, that represents roughly 61% of the population having one ailment or another in one week! I think a bit of it is a case of them not having enough to do, so they get bored, and come to see me to get attention. They are boys, after all. Attention is as necessary as oxygen…!

So, we're all getting back into our usual routines. Soon, it'll be like the big trip never happened, it'll just be a distant memory.

But I have the pictures.

And the video clips.

And the maps.

And all the newsletters, to remind me of my adventures on the High Seas!

I hope you've enjoyed coming along for the ride, both rides, actually, as much as I've enjoyed telling the tales! Throughout each day, something would happen, and I'd tell myself that I'd JUST HAVE to remember to write about that later that day. Most times, I did remember, too! I did forget to tell you, though, that not only did we run out of tea bags, but we also ran out of Sugar Twin, gherkins, bananas, grapes, we almost ran out of potatoes (they were being rationed) and we came perilously close to running out of toilet paper. Believe me, if THAT had happened, a Breaking News edition of "The Sail Home Newsletter" would have been winging it's way to you, hot off the press!!!

So, what happens out here now? Well, over the next week, they will prepare to re-connect to the spider buoy, which is the engineering marvel that connects us to all the subsea lines. All the lines that suck up the oil, and pump water and gas into the reservoir, all come up from the sea bed and connect to the spider buoy, which later this week they hope to re-connect to the bottom of the platform. Then, they have to check all the lines for leaks, and pressurize all the production systems on board to make sure they're operational, and so forth. Finishing all this preparatory work will take until close to the end of October, which is when they expect to bring oil on board. I'll probably be back here again by the time that happens. (Don is probably laughing his guts out at my totally un-knowledgable description of all that, but that's the best I can do, I'm afraid! If Don can explain to me the intricacies of managing 3rd degree atrio-ventricular block, then I'll do a crash course on spider buoys!! So there!!)

Anyway, we're at the end of the journey, so it's time to drop the anchor on "The Sail Home Newsletter". Gotta love the metaphorical irony! Better to use the anchor analogy rather than to say we've run her aground, I think.

Thanks to you all for keeping me company!

I hope it's been fun for you, too.

All the best,

Love and kisses and hugs and cheek-pinches,

Margaret

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