About the Steve O Zone
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Don't Care How... I Want It Now!
Quick, to what movie soundtrack are those words from? Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory? Well, yes that is ONE right answer.
But another right answer would be from the not-yet-released-film, Pinstripes & Patience - The Story of the Philadelphia Phillies Fans.
I want the works,
I want the whole works.
Presents and prizes and sweets and surprises,
Of all shapes and sizes.
And now,
Don't care how.
I want it now.
Don't care how.
I want it now!
See this is how THIS particular Phillies fan reacted to the news that Mets had acquired Johan Santana, AKA the best pitcher on the planet. Well sort of, stay with me.
Yes, my FIRST reaction was Holy S@#t! the Mets just got real good, real fast. But my next thought was, and this really represents not just my Phillies hopes but ALL of my sporting hopes --- when it comes to a championship...
Don't care how
I want it now!
The teams that adopt this mantra of immediacy, this edict of instantaneousness, is what I want, and I think most Philly sports fans want. I don't care what you (the respective front offices) have to do, just do it and do it NOW.
But, and this is where the Patience from the coming soon cinematic tour-de-force, comes into play --- those same front offices, all want us to have a little patience. Well patience are for hospitals but we are sure sick of hearing 'wait til next year.'
So, while we bask in the glow of the Pedro Feliz signing, Mets fans are left to settle with basking in the fiery glow of Johan Santana, I pity them.
Disturbing Behavior...
Has anyone seen the ad that is currently running for ESPN College Basketball? It features a man and woman in a hot tub and each has these macabre-looking heads growing out of their shoulders and chest, at least the man has one on his chest.
The images are in fact the heads of the college basketball crew, Jay Bilas, Digger Phelps, etc. They appear to be extra appendages as they are made out to appear as growing right out of the bodies of these two poor saps.
Now maybe I'm jaded because I work in advertising, but c'mon. This is the best your agency could come up with? And someone at ESPN actually thought this was a good idea?
It looks like something out of a Rob Zombie movie.
I haven't been this disturbed by a commercial since Burger King started airing those spots with that guy dressed as the Burger King who looks like he walked off the set of The Night Stalker.
Paging Karl Kolchak...
Hard to believe, Harry...
I think this is precisely what Whitey would have said to Harry upon hearing this tale.
It comes from across the ocean, in Spain and it's truly almost too unbelievable to believe. But it's all true.
In August 2004, Tomas Delgado, struck and killed a 17-year old boy who was riding his bicycle home to a campground. Shortly afterwards, a judge dismissed criminal charges against Delgado after concluding that he had committed no criminal infraction.
Ok, so far you may be thinking 'ok, it was a tragic accident, the boy is dead but the driver had no ill will.'
Not so fast.
Two years after the accident, Tomas Delgado sued the family of the dead boy for damages to his car and for car rental costs, asking them to pay him over $29,00 on the grounds that the collision that killed their teenage son also damaged his Audi.
Let's recap...
Man strikes and kills boy.
Man avoids jail time.
Man sues family of slain boy for damages to his car that was used to kill the boy in the first place.
You know not even George Costanza would be so brazen. Sure, he would try and get a hospital to pay for damages to his car as a result of a man jumping to his death and landing on his car. And sure he would push a little old lady out of the way to escape a burning building.
But I think even George would stop short of something this callous.
Today, probably as as result of the overwhelming backlash he has faced, Tomas Delgado has dropped his suit against the parents of the boy he killed.
But something tells me Tomas Delgado hasn't heard the last of this.
Can Anyone Here Help Me?...
I wrote a magazine article a few years back with this exact title. I wrote then that the future of Customer Service in this country is bleak and getting bleaker all the time.
Over the weekend, I was reminded just how bleak it has gotten.
On Saturday, I found myself in a certain department store whose name rhymes with Stacy's. My mission? To return an item on behalf of my mother in law.
Upon entering the establishment I was instantly aghast as the number of patrons that were currently residing in said store.
It was freaking crowded!
Now, I was armed with the knowledge that I could pay my bill at any register BUT was unsure if I could consummate the act of returning at any register, PLUS the lines were very long at each register, so I decided to search for the ever-elusive Customer Service Desk.
Reaching my destination I was immediately relieved to find not one single customer waiting to be serviced. In fact I did not see anyone, customer nor employee alike.
However just a few minutes later, out from behind a wall came a pleasant looking older woman named Claire (this name has been changed to protect the incompetent).
Here now, in its raw form, is the actual exchange between myself and Claire.
Claire: Can I help you?
Me: Yes, I would like to return this please (referring to the bag I had with me).
Claire: I'm sorry, you can't do that here.
Me: I can't do that here?
Claire: No, you're going to have to go to one of the registers.
Me: Isn't this Customer Service?
Claire: Yes it is.
Me: But I can't make a return here.
Claire: That's correct. You have to go to one of the registers.
Me: But there are long lines at every register and there is no one here.
Claire: I'm sorry sir, but I cannot process your return here, you have to....
Me & Claire in unison: ...go to one of the registers.
Me: But I don't understand. I am a Customer, right?
Claire: Right.
Me: You are Customer Service, right?
Claire: Right.
Me: But you can't help me, right?
Claire: Well, I'd like to but...
Me: Thanks Claire, have a great day.
'Til next time.
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