The World of Customer Service Presents: Intelligent Emails

As some people know, I currently work as a customer service representative for a family history website. (No, it's not Ancestry.) So I spend my wonderful time at work answering phone calls and responding to emails from customers. Most of our customers are totally nice, sweet elderly genealogy nuts. Some are demanding and whiny. Some are angry and mean. And some are just plain confused (and confusing.)

Customers purchase subscriptions to the site in order to have access to different genealogically relevant records and databases. That's it. That's the service. They pay money, log in, and start searching for their ancestors. But you'd be amazed by how many questions and how much confusion this generates.

So one of my favorite emails to get from customers--and we do get it often--goes something like this:

why can't i find my family

Yes, they do leave out any punctuation or capitalization.

Another popular version:

I CANT FND ANYTHOIMG ON YOUR SITR

The all caps and obvious misspellings are also very common. Sometimes the combination of misspelled words and poorly constructed sentences is so acute I have to email the person back and ask them to clarify their question before I even address the real problem.

But the really great thing about the emails above is that they give me no information with which to help them. "I can't find my family" isn't even a question, it's just a statement. And there could be any number of reasons why they are unable to find the information they want on the website. But without knowing what information they are even looking for (a surname would be nice), or what searching they have already tried, I can do nothing for them.

We get these emails so often that I have wondered what kind of mindreader these customers think I am. They seem to think that by looking at their email address and reading the urgency of their detailed message "I can't find my family," I will magically know how to find their great grandfather's grave (obviously that's what they're looking for), or their biological mother's current whereabouts, or their entire personal pedigree.

Oh, the bright lights that exist in the world.

Tips for emailing (or otherwise contacting) a customer service department:

1. Be specific about your questions, suggestions, or concerns.
2. Don't swear.
3. Tell them who you are. If you have an order or an account with the company, give them your order number or some sort of customer ID so that they can help you specifically.
4. Read stuff. You're literate--go online and check out the company's policies and FAQs. Chances are, they've already answered your question. (However, if you can't find the answer online, don't be aftraid to contact them about it. They are getting paid to help you.)
5. Proofread. Please.

New Favorite Sport--to Watch

Back in the 2002 Winter Olympics I discovered the awesomeness of curling, which often aired late late at night, (my favorite time to watch tv). Curling is great mainly because the people look so funny sweeping the ice. I mean, I'm sure that it requires skill and all that, but it's really sort of a ridiculous sport.

BMX biking, on the other hand, is a completely different kind of awesome. These athletes are crazy--they could potentially die mid-race (which I don't think is a concern in curling). I only caught two BMX races this Olympics, but they were amazing. I found the wipe-outs to be totally satisfying, and while I've never had an interest in extreme sports before this, if X Games ever comes here, I'm totally going.

So if you missed the BMX races this year, look for it in 2012. Definitely a great addition to the Olympics.

An Artistic Soul

My mom's birthday was last week, and my niece Rebecca wrote a poem about grandmas to commemorate the occasion. A natural-born artist (drama and all), this six-year-old stayed up very late the night before writing a multi-stanza free verse poem.

Here are the last two stanzas--the awesomest ones:

They [grandmas] have a big house
when they have lots of kids
and some go to college,
some go to kindergarten,
some go to second grade, some
go to happy places like
Chuck E Cheese, some go to
pre-school, some are brand-
new, some go to 8th grade,
some go to 1st grade.

After school they celebrate.
They say good-bye and then
they do fun games with you. Then
they have ice cream and say good night.

Basically, I just like the part about Chuck E Cheese. And the fact that it sort of just goes on and on without making a lot of sense.

Big Sigh of Relief

I'm starting a graduate program in linguistics one month from tomorrow. As most of you know, I did my undergraduate in English, which is a little bit different. And since it's been awhile since I took a linguistics class--or any class for that matter--I decided I might want to study up a little before school.

So back in about May, I pulled out all my old linguistics books and decided to start reviewing the textbook from one of my favorite courses, History of the English Language. The book is called A Biography of the English Language by C M Millward.

Now the author's name, "Millward," should have tipped me off to something because Millward just sounds like a really old, stuffy-type linguist, the kind with the monotone voice, she probably has the same haircut she wore in the sixties. Millward is also probably socially awkward since she spent all her time alone in her room studying runes and Old English pronunciation. She has probably read Beowulf aloud. To herself.

And to others--which is worse.

(There are actually a lot of "interesting" people in the linguistics world, and sometimes when I meet them, I question whether I really belong in this field. So much more comfortable with the English crowd.)

Now if I didn't take a hint from the author's name, I should have at least noticed the pale, split-pea-soup cover of the book. It doesn't exactly scream, "Read me! I'm fun!" (I would post an actual picture of the book here, but you would fall asleep looking at it.) Inside the book there are about five maps/diagrams and the rest is text. No pictures. No color. Just big chunks of text. Text that goes on and on and on forever.

I tried really hard to read A Biography of the English Language, but, frankly, I was bored out of my mind. And I had no idea what it was talking about. And I quit reading it, and ignored my linguistics studying for awhile.

But I was a little concerned about the fact that I am starting a graduate program in linguistics and the linguistics book I tried to read was pretty much death. I mean it would be at least slightly inconvenient to finally start graduate school and discover I don't even like subject.

However, a few months after my failed reading attempts, when the book was buried deep under a pile of clean/dirty clothes, I remembered a very important fact from my History of the English Language class: We didn't use the book.

We had the book, but we didn't actually use it very often. Our assignments and tests were lecture-based, and the lectures were really interesting.

With that wonderful idea in mind, I pulled out a different linguistics textbook earlier this week. Linguistics: An Introduction to Language and Communication. This textbook has not one, but four authors, all with interesting, or at least normal-person-sounding names like Adrian Akmajian and Ann K Farmer. I could be friends with them. The cover is bright yellow with blue and yellow designs on it. It's a pretty happy textbook. Many graphs and diagrams, some of which could almost be considered pictures. Still no color inside, but the brightness of the cover makes up for it.

And the really good news:

I started reading the book, and I love it. Chapter 2, "Morphology," is so fascinating. I'm actually looking forward to the exercises at the end of the chapter. I'm pretty sure I'm going to do awesome on them because I totally get this stuff. I'm actually registered for a morphology class this fall, and now I really excited for it.

So I really do like linguistics, and I really can study linguistics in graduate school.

Good to know.

Who knew graham crackers could go bad?

The other day I found a partial container of cream cheese frosting in the refrigerator and pulled out an opened package of graham crackers to make my favorite snack. My mom commented that the graham crackers looked a little pale, but I figured it was just a different brand or something and started spreading frosting on one square. But then I noticed an odd smell, sort of a cross between musty and rancid. I sniffed around the kitchen a little bit to find the source of this new foul odor--it was not the sink or the garbage can, it was the graham cracker.

Totally sick.

I threw the package away and got out an new package from the same box, assuming that the graham crackers had spoiled because they had been open for too long. The new package looked similarly white, and as soon as I opened it, I caught the same awful smell and chucked the whole thing in the trash.

"Maybe the graham crackers went bad," my mom said.

"Is that possible?" I said.

"Well, see if there's an expiration date on the box."

I pulled out the now empty graham cracker box a located a small stamped "best if used by" date: October 2007.

Apparently, we don't eat graham crackers very often at my house. But my mom and I are pretty sure we fed some of the well-beyond-shelf-life crackers to my nieces and nephew as they have visited over the past year. Disgusting. Fortunately, they are all still alive.

And since I found another new box of graham crackers--brown, crisp, fresh-smelling, and still good until some time next year--I still got to have my snack.

Important life lessons learned:

1. Any food with an expiration date really can go bad.
2. Graham crackers are supposed to be brown, no matter what brand they are.
3. Small children have no sense of taste or smell.
4. Spoiled graham crackers are gross, but will not actually kill you.
5. People who don't eat graham crackers very often should not buy the big box, even if it is more cost effective.

For Lindsay--

I keep forgetting to respond to your questions about grad school, so here is a brief update:

After being accepted to 4 schools, traveling to the other side of the country, and falling in love with the state of North Carolina, I have decided to attend . . . BYU.

I will be returning to our alma mater this August to pursue a master's degree in linguistics because BYU has one of the most diverse and nationally recognized linguistics programs in the country. And because it costs less. And because it's just the right place for me to be at this time (no matter how many of my friends and family members think I need to experience life outside of Utah).

Jet skis aren't as stable as they appear

Last week I went to the lake with my family and we rented a jet ski (and a canoe--but who really cares about a canoe when you have a water vehicle with a motor?). The jet ski riding was going really great until I decided I wanted to ride on an inner tube tied to the back of the jet ski. Apparently, people do this all the time.

We were instructed at the dock to have the tube rider (me) sit on the back of the jet ski until we got past the buoys and the "no wake zone." Then we were supposed to stop the jet ski and pull the tube up close enough to the jet ski for me to climb on. My mom was driving and my dad was going to be the spotter (to make sure I didn't fall off and that the rope from the tube didn't get caught in the motor).

We got out past the "no wake zone" and stopped. I pulled the tube up close, and started to get on. But with three adults on the jet ski, we quickly experienced weight distribution issues: as soon as I had one limb on the tube, I was in the water. I turned around to see my parents also in the in the water and the jet ski rolling on its side. Of course the motor was off now, since my mom had the magnetic key attached to her, but we had been warned that if the jet ski rolled we shouldn't turn the engine back on in case it had gotten water in it.

So there we were, stuck in the middle of Jordanelle Reservoir, holding on to the sides of our now-silent jet ski.

The water was cold. About 55-60 degrees. But the sun was shining, so it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been, and we adjusted quickly to the temperature.

We could see the dock, but the boathouse (with all the people who could have potentially sent help) was blocked by all the boats. So the three of us started swimming, while holding on to the jet ski (because we didn't want to leave it behind--it was a rental after all).

We didn't move very quickly, and I decided that I wouldn't want to be stuck with either of my parents in real crisis situation. My dad was a little panicky at the beginning, and my mom start bemoaning our fate later on. I kept trying to defer decisions (like whether we should turn the jet ski around, or which side of the jet ski I should swim on) to my parents--after all, they're my parents--but really I felt like the one in charge. Which was a little weird.

My mom, unfortunately, was wearing jeans, like full-length denim jeans, and a heavy t-shirt, so I guess the swimming was a little harder for her. She kept saying "We're never going to make it." And I kept saying, "We're fine, mom. The dock is right there. We can see the dock. And we're almost past the buoys."

5 reasons why this was not an actual crisis (and therefore not worth panicking about):

1. We were all wearing life jackets, which were so effective that even after being thrown from the jet ski, our hair was still dry.
2. Jordanelle Reservoir is not very big, and we could see the dock (as well as the opposite shore) the entire time. If the situation had been really serious, I could have abandoned the jet ski (and my parents) and swam for help
3. There were other boats on the lake nearby.
4. We are all healthy adults--no heart conditions or special immediate medical needs.
5. Frankly, the whole thing was pretty funny. I mean who falls off a stupid jet ski? And how many times in your life are you going to be stranded in the middle of a lake with your parents?

After about 40 minutes, we were rescued by an older gentleman and his grandsons in their very nice motor boat. (Check "being rescued by a boat" off my list of things to do in life.) They tossed a rope down, which I tied to the jet ski, and then we climbed aboard for a ride back to the dock. I've seen similar boat rescues in at least a couple dozen movies, and I have to say it was pretty great. Definitely lived up my expectations.

Good news: there was no damage to the jet ski, so we didn't incur any fines.

It took about 24 hours and three very hot showers for me feel like my body was restored to its normal warm temperature.

All in all it was a pretty good adventure.