The Main Point by Michael Main

Saturday, July 24, 2004

"Mr. Watson come here..."

We have a dial tone!

My first call, which I'm literally making as I write this, is to SBC to strip our phone line of the "services" the company gave us at one time for very modest fees or for free. They've raised the cost of those services significantly although I've been assured we were notified in our bill, "it was on the back of page 17 last February, Mr. Main."

I also want to get a refund for the time our phone was out of service.

As a heads up to friends and family who call us at home, the aforementioned plan of becoming one of those families who screen every call is going into effect as promised. How much our bill is being reduced is apparently an inexact science. The customer service representative I spoke with refused to tell me what those taxes or fees amount to...making any number of excuses along the way.

He made no effort to help me whatsoever and again acted like I am the only person on earth who has ever asked how much the taxes and fees are and even worse what they're for...it was amazing.

I finally asked if he had access to our prior month's bill. He told me he did. I then asked him if that bill listed the taxes and fees we paid last month. He told me, "yes". I then asked him if he could read me those numbers. He did.

Being an apparent genius I've been able to determine that we'll pay about 6 dollars in fees and taxes each month, meaning our phone bill will be about 22 dollars...probably a little less.

If anyone out there is a customer service consultant, allow me to give you a hot prospect: SBC. I am stunned at how surly everyone at SBC has been to me, except for that one kid in billing earlier this week who by now I'm sure has found work somewhere or been sent off to be reprogrammed so he can learn how to be uncooperative. I really am not rude when I call, but the guy who processed my requests on our phone service was excessively snotty once again.

I'm certainly open to using another company for our local phone service but it doesn't make economic sense...and in truth those other companies simply use the SBC lines. Right now (and considering SBC charges you 8 dollars to make any change to your phone service, including canceling services) it wouldn't be worth it, although I might change my mind if I get the right pitch from a company that understands the importance of treating people with respect.

Our local cable company is in the process of rolling out local phone service. I never thought I'd want to have more dealings with the cable company, but I'm rethinking that stance now.

"There's small choice in rotten apples" - Shakespeare

Friday, July 23, 2004

Friday Night Fragments

Sometimes I have to clean out the mental closet in order to think clearly....tonight is one of those times.

Please forgive this small dip into the stream of consciousness to deal with loose ends and the open ended.

Phones -

Our land line phone service is still out, but the call forwarding solution is working fine, and I think I've convinced Amy that we can do away with Caller ID (they charge 10 bucks for that now, remember when it was 2 dollars?). We're going to become one of those families that screen calls instead. If you call us you will always get the answering machine as of next week, but we'll pick up if we're here...and if we don't owe you money.

Pedometer -

My blog buddy Jim commented recently on my post about the pedometer that he didn't think such devices "really measure anything. You pre-set it as to how long your stride is and, when you trigger it to begin, all it's really doing is chalking up a stride for every second or so". I disagreed with him in the comment area but I wanted to elaborate a little here. First off, my pedometer doesn't even have an off switch, so it's definitely triggered by movement, not simply by time.. Admittedly if you sit in a chair and shake the thing, it'll think you're walking, but if you put it on and walk it's very accurate. I know this, because I tested mine today. I did the normally unthinkable for me; I read all the instructions. I calibrated the little gadget as best I could. Then I got in my car and drove the route I walk every day, measuring the distance with the trip meter in my car. It turns out I walk almost exactly 3 miles. Tonight I strapped on the pedometer and walked the route. When I arrived back home the distance read: 3.01 miles. That's good enough for me. Still I'm stunned to think you have to walk three miles to burn off the calories from a donut or two.

Phantasm -

My father-in-law interpreted the dream I wrote about recently. It was a truly amazing analysis. I don't want to get too detailed here, because I now know it's an ongoing process and I want flesh it out more. Suffice it to say his interpretation makes a great deal of sense to me, and in fact reflects an issue that I have been personally wrestling with for some time: the baptism of the Holy Spirit.

I know it's hard to initially envision how a dream about pools, airports and mullets might lead there, but you'll simply have to take my word for it for now. I promise to write more about that when I can do it justice.

Prayers -

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. -Matthew 5:3

I believe when we are at our lowest points in life we are often the closest we have ever been to God. Tonight I know a number of folks are in obvious need of prayer, even though I really only know them from their blogs, comments and emails. Big Fish and L's youngest child is in the hospital with a serious infection. Things are looking better now but she is still very sick. She is only three years old.

A small child, a high fever. Young parents in a big hospital. There is no way to rest except in your arms Father. God I ask for healing, peace, and patience,

Pastor Tina and her husband were burglarized the other night. Actually it was their church that was broken into, but they also live in their church. Some "stuff" is missing and so is their insurance coverage which is bad enough, but Tina's cat, Gizmo, also disappeared in the chaos. He's 16 years old.

God, I believe there is no request too great or too small to bring to You so I pray for calm and comfort. I pray for forgiveness for people who prey on others...and yes, I pray for cats and closure.

My blog friend who now writes at Aelki is adjusting to independence and coping with solitude. She's a young woman starting out on her own with great hopes, great potential, but some trepidation. Haven't we all been there?

Father, be with those of us who feel alone and fearful. May this prayer serve as a reminder that we need feel neither.

Praises-

Bobbie at Emerging Sideways has been inspirational to me in many ways. She and her husband have been through some tough times...together. Her story about their financial struggles is especially moving and has given me great hope. If you haven't read it yet, you should.

Personal -

As many of you are aware Amy has had some ongoing health issues. A couple of months ago we made a decision to put everything in neutral for a while to give us time to clear our minds and focus on family. We were able to cut through some of the medical clutter and also get away to be with those we love dearly. I believe that was a healthy decision.

Now Amy and I are renewing the medical process that we put on hold. She underwent another medical test today. It's likely there will be more and most certainly additional decisions to make.

I am confident we will find the other side of this sometimes murky journey eventually, but I humbly ask for your continued prayers for patience,
strength and optimism.

Goodnight.

Thursday, July 22, 2004

Ma Bell Heck

I don't have good luck with phone companies...I've mentioned this before. Last week our home phone service was out for two days because of what SBC called a "major cable cut".

It started like a sugary breakfast cereal...snap, crackle, pop but quickly progressed to the dead zone, which I believe is also the title of a bad Don Johnson movie - I realize that's redundant since I don't believe Don Johnson ever made a good movie, but that's besides the point.

Anyway, today Amy emails me at work to inform me that our phone service is out again. When I came home I used SBC's handy automated system to report the problem and found out that our phones may be out until Monday night...because of a "major cable cut."

Having learned nothing from my previous experience with Tmobile, I then attempted to speak to a human being at SBC, no easy task since the company has laid off like18 zillion workers in the past two years while paying the firm's chairman, Ed Whitacre, some 20 million dollars.

After wading through the automated assistance system: 1- yes I want English, 2- no I don't want to hear about special offers, 1-yes I want to report a problem - I finally got through to a person. Not a nice person. Not an intelligent person, but a person nonetheless. She told me, "it's a major cable cut" and seemed a little disappointed at my lack of surprise. I then explained that I was dissatisfied with the prospect of not having phone service to my home for up to five days since I have a wife with health problems and I work in a business where occasionally people call me. I asked what they could do to alleviate my concerns.

Her response?

"It's a major cable cut"

I then asked if I was speaking with someone from customer service and was assured that was the case. As politely as I could possibly be at this point I said, "Well, I'm a customer and I need service of some form."

She told me there was nothing she could do because....you guessed it, "it's a major cable cut."

Sensing that perhaps SBC should have laid off 18 zillion and one workers, I decided that this woman wasn't an "idea person" so I suggested that perhaps the company could put a message on my line, or temporarily give me their CallNotes ® service. She thought that was a great idea. She connected me with a young gentleman who offered to sell me CallNotes ®....on a line that doesn't work. I explained that I wasn't interested in buying anything from a company that wasn't providing me with any service at the moment and his response was, "Well, I am in new service activation, I'm not authorized to give anything away."

I resisted the temptation to explain that giving away good customer service might actually prove beneficial and asked if I might speak with someone who could authorize such an outlandish request. He connected me to a woman I assume was a supervisor of some sort. I explained the entire story again and asked if she was the person with the power to do something with my phone service so that when people called my home they didn't think we were dead like Don Johnson's movie career.

Her reply?

"It's a major cable cut...we can't put CallNotes ® on a line that's cut."

By this point I have already started searching the Internet for other local phone service providers. I ask, admittedly not very politely, if there is anyone at SBC who can do anything for me and her response was, "I'm sorry...but it's a major cable cut"

I had to hang up.

I stormed downstairs...tried to take out my anger on Amy who not so politely informed me that she was not the phone company, and then I stormed back upstairs to call SBC on my cell phone again.

This time my intent was only to find out how much we pay for phone service each month ($36.39 for one stinking phone line with Caller ID and the ability to make long distance calls) and to have our bill credited for the two days last week when we didn't have service.

I waded through the automation again and got a kid in billing. I say a kid with a great deal of respect. He had to have been a kid because he obviously hadn't worked for SBC long enough to think of excuses.

I laid out my sad story to him one more time, emphasizing the sick wife bit, that doctors might be calling any minute, etc. fully expecting to hear, "Well, it's a major cable cut"

Instead I heard something unusual...someone thinking. He said, "Well, first off I can credit you for the days you were out of service last week, but I can't put CallNotes ® on your line. However maybe we could give you call forwarding to your cell phone."

I was speechless.

It took some doing; he literally had to call people out in the field repairing "the major cable cut" and have them forward the calls but within 10 minutes we had phone service.

He also made sure to instruct me on how to turn off call forwarding once the major cable cut was fixed, and assured me that he was crediting our bill for the call forwarding service which we could cancel once everything was back to normal.

This was a kid in billing, not customer service.

I didn't get his name, but I'm betting it wasn't Ed Whitacre.

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

I'll Drink To Fat

Tiffany, my eldest stepdaughter, recently gave me a pedometer.

It is a very thoughtful gift and a cool little gadget. It keeps track of how far I walk each day, and if I set it correctly it will measure how many calories I burn while walking. Not only does it provide me with useful information, but it's also a reflection of the fact that Tiffany has taken notice of my efforts to get in shape and wants to encourage them. So far I've only used it while on my daily forced march although I'm going to wear it to the office soon to officially confirm the fact that once I sit my butt down in my chair at the office, I don't move much.

Although I've not calibrated it to exacting standards I know that my daily walk burns about 380 calories, that's not including what I burn by using hand weights, which I'm told increases that total significantly. It is humbling though when you consider one Krispy Kreme glazed donut is 280 calories.

I thought about that this afternoon as I walked in the intense San Antonio heat, sweating away. Especially in light of this story.

Krispy Kreme is coming out with a line of drinks, including what is essentially a liquefied glazed donut.

Drink up....and out!

Making A Statement

I'm not big on company mission statements. They seem very Dilbert-like to me. I've found most of the folks who are busy drafting mission statements are people who are not working very hard. The people who are working hard don't have time to come up with mission statements.

Despite that, my office has gone mission statement crazy lately. Upon my return from vacation I noticed the motivational posters that one of my many bosses had ordered plastered onto the walls only a few months ago have now all been replaced with framed "mission statements". They're everywhere in building...literally. In every stairwell, at the top and bottom of every staircase, in every hallway, and almost every sales person has a little copy in his or her cubicle. On the first floor (it's only a two floor building) the entire wall outside the elevator has been re-wallpapered with our new local mission statement...it's about 12 feet tall.

It's hard to miss.

Sorry, I don't know what it says. I've worked for this company for nearly 20 years. I follow my own mission statement: I work hard and I do the job I am paid to do to the very best of my ability.

I was told today that the various managers spent an entire day drafting our new local mission statement. Two members of their staff were forced to attend the meeting to take notes. After 8 hours the two staff members said they had a half page of notes between them....and that included the mission statement.

I asked if I would get paid more money if I memorized our mission statement or had it tattooed somewhere on my body. The answer was no...at least to the first part of the question, I think they're still considering the second idea.

I suppose it's a matter of priorities.

Our little church has a mission statement, although I hesitate to call it that. It's probably more of a motto.

It reads: "Where the less than perfect are more than welcome".

It's not on our church sign. I don't think it's even on our website. It's not plastered on any walls in the sanctuary.

In fact I think there are only two places you'll find it: in our weekly order of worship and etched in the hearts of many members of our congregation.

Funny, I've never had any problem seeing or remembering it.

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Preachers, Mullets And Kinsmen Redreamers

I rarely remember my dreams.

I don't think there is a deep psychological reason for this; I suspect that it's more likely due to my odd sleeping schedule and a certain sense of self preservation. My waking life is weird enough, if I remembered what was happening in my sleep I might doubt my sanity even more than I already do.

I am certain I dream, but usually any memory of what has transpired in my slumber is instantly washed away as soon as I open my eyes.

Amy, on the other hand, often has long elaborate dreams with vast casts of characters, plots and certain elements of profundity. It's been a running gag with us for years that sometimes we'll wake up and she'll tell me her dream leaving out no detail then when she's done, usually 10 to 30 minutes later, I'll share details of my nocturnal drama usually I say, "I dreamed of a fluffy bunny."

Amy's dad, Bernie, interprets dreams. This not some mystical or new age power, some years ago he immersed himself in the writings of Carl Jung. Amy's father is something of a renaissance man, and I believe the tale of how he came to study Jung provides insight into the tools God uses in redemption, but I also believe that is a story for him to tell. Suffice it to say his dream interpretations are well known in our family.

I mention this only because I actually remembered part of a dream I had this afternoon which I suspect might mystify Amy's father, perhaps even Jung himself...although Jung's dead so I would suppose most anything would be a surprise to him at this point

The dream involves Gordon - our pastor who is known to many in the blogworld as Real Live Preacher, me, a swimming pool and a woman with a mullet hairstyle.

I know Gordon has mentioned mullets at least once in passing on his blog, but I don't believe he's shared the fact that he has a certain fascination with mullets. He's not alone. A quick search of Google will point you to some 380 thousand websites devoted to some aspect of "the mullet." As with many revelations provided by Google, this is an aspect of humanity I'm perfectly capable of ignoring.

Anyway, back to the dream. Gordon and I are in a swimming pool, to the best of my recollection this has only happened once in real life - when Gordon baptized me and resisted the temptation to hold me under. Across the pool is a woman. I don't recall whether she is old or young, what she's wearing, or even the color of her hair. All I remember is that she has a mullet.

There's not much more to the dream, it ends with Gordon asking the woman, "Did you get your mullet at the airport?"

That's it. The entire dream...or at least all I remember.

What's odd is that I know I've dreamed this same thing before...both times I woke up laughing.

I have a feeling I'd be better off sticking with the fluffy bunny story....then again, maybe I've been misinterpreting that dream all these years.

Photo credit: refused

Summer Freedom

It's two in the morning. I'm reading papers from around the state and find myself with two extra minutes.

This picture from the "Standard Radio Post" in the Hill Country town of Fredericksburg seemed to jump out at me.

It makes me long for carefree days.

It also reminds me if I bent my back like that now I'd be hobbling for a week.

Photo by Lisa Treiber Walter

Monday, July 19, 2004

The Woman Who Hugs

I know nothing more about this woman than what I read this morning on the ABC newswire, and that I can't pronounce her name, Mata Amritanandamayi. Mercifully, most folks call her "Amma".

She's known as the "woman who hugs".

photo by: Barbara Haddock Taylor-Baltimore Sun

She's a Hindu woman from India whose ministry is to hug people. Apparently she's very famous with some folks comparing her to Mother Teresa and other's saying she has a healing touch. Certainly there is a spiritual message in what she does, which appears to come from the heart.

She estimates in the past 30 years or so she's given out 24 million hugs. Her followers say on occasion she's hugged people for 20 hours straight. There are claims she's hugged 40 thousand people in one day.

Today she is in New York City...hugging people, no small feat in itself.

Her faith differs from mine, but it's hard not to embrace her spirit.

Sunday, July 18, 2004

His Vision And Blue Eyes

Sweet little Jesus boy
They made you be born in a manger*

I'm used to messy church...but today I think Amy and I were more of a mess than anything else. We were out of sorts.

Some of that was to be expected having been away for a couple of weeks. Amy woke up in pain so we prepared to leave church early if need be, but we never did really get on track. When we arrived we discovered two baby dedications were planned for today's service. That meant a bunch of people were there, which didn't do much for Amy's increasing anxiety around crowds. Additionally I was befuddled because I had never heard of one of the kids we were dedicating.

Church is an important part of my life and I thought, "Man how out of touch have I been lately that there is a family here I not only don't know but whose baby is being dedicated?"

That stuff might happen in big churches, but it doesn't happen in ours...at least I thought it didn't. Later I learned the second child's family is friends of the other couple who were dedicating their daughter and they decided to double up. They weren't members. I hadn't let the world at large distract me from something so important. I was relieved, but the confusion continued as I struggled with replenishing paper towels (whoever invented those center core paper towel thingies I'm sorry I won't see you in Heaven, but I suppose it's reassuring to know there's a special place waiting for you elsewhere). Eventually I got the paper towels in the kitchen replaced without too many people noticing I was muttering words that were not normally heard in church but then realized, as dozens and dozens of visitors poured in that we had zero napkins in the church. We had plenty of donuts - you have to feed Baptists or they can really turn on you - but no napkins.

I whipped down to the local 24/7 rip off store and bought some napkins and still got back in time to find a place in our small parking lot which was quickly teeming with cars as more visitors arrived. To my relief, everyone had a napkin for their donut

Although Amy was leading music, she asked me to sit on the back row in case we needed to make an early exit which added to my sense of abnormality. I'm usually a second row church-goer - close enough to hear but out of range of Gordon's spittle...not that he really spits...much.

When services started I closed my eyes and tried to quiet my heart. As we stood to sing I noticed there was a family in front of me. The father was holding his young son who was facing backwards staring at me. He was obviously intrigued by me. I've had this effect on children in church before, apparently most kids think that people who sing can carry a tune, I've sort of decided God has chosen me to deliver these children from that illusion. I sing....but it can be a shocking awakening to the very young....or for that matter anyone within earshot

This little boy had big blue eyes and he never took them off me. I couldn't help but smile, and he smiled back. I finally began to relax. I thought about children and innocence. I prayed to God asking for tranquility and strength. I felt humbled by my sense of need and ashamed at my sense of urgency.

Long time ago
You were born
Born in a manger Lord
Sweet little Jesus boy

I was still keeping my eye on Amy and was fairly certain we'd be ducking out the back door, but each time I started to feel anxious I'd look over and see that little boy's gentle gaze.

Sweet little Jesus boy
Born a long time ago
Sweet little holy child
We didn't know who you were

Amy finished leading music and came back to sit with me. I could tell by her expression that we wouldn't be staying, but then a woman, one of the many visitors, got up to sing. She sang these words from the depths of her soul:

Be thou my vision
Oh Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art -
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence - my light **

Amy and I were both moved. It was very stirring.

I looked in front of me again and saw those big blue eyes of innocence staring back and that little joyful smile.

Amy and I left quietly out the back door.

I knew today we had received what we needed.

* Sweet Little Jesus Boy by Robert MacGimsey
** Ancient Irish hymn translated by Mary E. Byrne

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Saturday, July 24, 2004

"Mr. Watson come here..."

Friday, July 23, 2004

Friday Night Fragments

Thursday, July 22, 2004

Ma Bell Heck

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

I'll Drink To Fat

Making A Statement

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Preachers, Mullets And Kinsmen Redreamers

Summer Freedom

Monday, July 19, 2004

The Woman Who Hugs

Sunday, July 18, 2004

His Vision And Blue Eyes

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The Main Point by Michael Main ©

Past Ramblings
The Main Point Archives

Links & Stuff

Saturday, July 24, 2004

"Mr. Watson come here..."

Friday, July 23, 2004

Friday Night Fragments

Thursday, July 22, 2004

Ma Bell Heck

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

I'll Drink To Fat

Making A Statement

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Preachers, Mullets And Kinsmen Redreamers

Summer Freedom

Monday, July 19, 2004

The Woman Who Hugs

Sunday, July 18, 2004

His Vision And Blue Eyes

Past RamblingsThe Main Point Archives

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