Air Canada - Love 'em and Hate 'em

My daughter came home yesterday for 24 hours for a 'real job' opportunity from her 'retirement' in Florida. It was a harrowing day for her. After four hours sleep, she left her villa at 5 a.m. to go to the West Palm Beach airport to catch a 7:00 a.m. flight, stopping in Washington, DC before continuing on to Toronto. At 7:30 a.m. she called to let us know her flight was delayed. An hour later, she called again, this time to let us know that the flight leg from DC to Toronto was cancelled due to bad weather. They would put her up in Washington and fly her out sometime Monday.

In all my years of business travel, there are two things I have learned: don't complain about mechanical delays or delays due to bad weather.

Shannon's bag had already been checked through to Toronto via Washington, but since her appointment was in Toronto at 9:00 Monday morning, being stranded in Washington, DC was not going to help. I told her not to board the DC flight; don't worry about her bag, it will get here eventually (it still hasn't, but that'll be another story, I'm sure).

Now, how to get her to Toronto? She checked at the Air Canada desk but all flights to Toronto from West Palm Beach were booked solid. In the meantime, I was on the phone with Orbitz (where she'd booked her flight) and she was surfing the internet via wireless connection, trying to find a way to get her home.

Voila! She found a reasonable fare and flight for the same day, leaving from Fort Lauderdale and coming to Toronto via Ottawa. Only problem was, Shannon was in West Palm Beach. And her friend had dropped her off at the airport. She called her friend in a panic to came back to pick her up and race her to Fort Lauderdale. If it all worked out OK, Shannon would land in Toronto around 6 p.m.

They got there with minutes to spare. Air Canada - Love 'em #1. The ticket agent processed Shannon through quickly (no bags to check, remember?) and helped her move through the security line (bypassing thousands of spring break travellers). When she got to her gate, a lovely ticket agent offered her, instead, a direct flight to Toronto (no stop in Ottawa) leaving an hour later and arriving an hour earlier. Shannon was thrilled to accept. Air Canada - Love 'em #2. They upgraded her to business class. She landed at 5 p.m., twelve hours after she left that morning.

Since she was coming home for a business opportunity and has obligations to her team in Florida, she was scheduled to stay for only 24 hours before returning to West Palm Beach on her $109.00 ticket. After hearing how stressful her trip home had been, her team leader gave her an extra day before needing her back. She inquired in Fort Lauderdale about a change fee to move Monday's return flight to Tuesday, instead. She was told it would be $130.00 to change, but she'd have to do it online or on the phone. Now, $130 to change a $109 ticket might not be acceptable to you and me, but Shannon was stressed and homesick. But there wasn't time to make the change before getting on her flight.

I tried to help by making the change online. The change fee reported a fare difference of almost $400. In the meantime, she had gone to Shopper's Drug Mart to replace the make-up that had flown as far as Washington, DC and studied for her test for today's meeting. It was almost midnight and she'd had a stressful day. I offered to call Air Canada to make the change over the phone since the on-line thing wasn't working out to $130. After more than an hour-and-a-half on hold with Air Canada, I gave up.

Today, we awoke at 6 a.m. to get ready for the trip downtown. I gave Shannon the news that I was unable to make the $130 change. She was disappointed. We thought we'd try at the airport after her appointment, since she was due to fly out today anyway.

She aced her test and we made our way to the airport. Upon arrival, she got in a very long line to see a ticket agent. In the meantime, I picked up the courtesy phone, which was answered after two rings. I inquired about the fee to change her ticket so she could return tomorrow instead of today. $400. Shannon started to cry, she was so disappointed. She needed that one day of rest and recovery. I think she really wanted her Mom's cooking.

She removed herself from the line and went to check-in to get her boarding pass. After finalizing her paperwork, we decided to inquire about her bag. We were sent to another Air Canada agent at the other end of the terminal. We asked about her luggage and were directed to yet another area. As we walked away, Shannon doubled back and asked about the cost of changing her flight. The agent clicked a few buttons on her computer and told her it would cost $40.

Air Canada - Love 'em #3. The agent made the day a million times better for Shannon today with a change fee of $40.

The same change that I had just 20 minutes earlier asked another agent about? In less than 20 minutes, the fee went from $400 to $40. In less than 24 hours, the fee had gone from $130 to $400 to $40? Nothing else had changed.

Air Canada - sometimes it's hard to love 'em.

Parental Discipline Deficit Disorder

The end of civilization is nearer.

Jim Coyle of the Toronto Star summed it up in this essay, introducing the latest "give it a medical name so everyone has something to blame it on": Parental Discipline Deficit Disorder. Surely, you've seen adults afflicted with this condition: those who have abrogated their responsibility to teach their children the difficult and important lessons in life; those who cater to their children's whims, desires, tantrums; those adults too afraid to say 'no' to the little person who rules their lives.

In his column, Mr. Coyle included a reference to the recent book, "Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like a Skank." Oh how I wish I'd been clever enough to think to market that blog rant into a book. I love imagining the author pitching the concept to a publisher.

Courtesy of my sister, Christine, here's the latest, and perhaps lowest (although I'm sure someone somewhere is slithering under this low rung): "Fashion house accused of marketing children as "little sexual beings," grooming them for sexual predators with a T-shirt featuring the slogan "Future Porn Star".

People thought I was nuts when I protested my then-six-year-old niece singing Britney Spears's “Hit Me Baby One More Time,” complete with pole-dancing stripper moves. If only the world had listened....

What kind of call to action is necessary for today’s parents to take charge? Sadly, the majority can’t say no to their children; how will they protest fashion and media sexploitation of children?

Happy Anniversary!

Although we are nearing the 10th Anniversary of the date we met, and it’s now just more than 2 ½ years since we married, this special anniversary celebrates 5 years since my husband and I quit smoking!

Five years smoke-free! Hooray!

That’s somewhere between $22,000 and $25,000 that we have not spent feeding the monster. We’ve saved our bodies the ravages of at least 46,000 cigarettes each – not to mention sparing our families, our cars and our home the stink of 92,000 disgusting butts.

Oh the time we wasted smoking! I can’t remember how often I told my daughter we would do something “right after this cigarette.” As smokers we’d linger, usually a little too long, after dinner. My day couldn’t begin until I had those deep drags off the morning’s first cigarette.

Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like we managed to bank those savings, either in time or money. We were extremely motivated in the early days: each morning we’d put $5 in a box we kept on the dresser, recording our ‘deposits’ in a little notebook kept inside. Last week I peeked in the box. It held four US pennies, a button and the notebook showing six deposits of $5.00 each and six IOUs for the same. (Lju had made the deposits, I had made the withdrawals.)

We may not have the money or the time back, but we are so much richer for having quit. I cannot imagine the many experiences or things we would have done without if we were still buying smokes. In fact, we rationalize some of our purchases by the equivalent number of packs or cartons of cigarettes. For example, my monthly car payment is equal to about 5 cartons, or about what I used to smoke. I guess that’s why I always drove a used car!

Mark This Date on Your Calendar

A very frightening lead headline on the AOL homepage this evening warns:

Asteroid Speeds Toward Earth
U.N. Is Urged to Take Charge
What Are the Odds It Hits Us?

Well, I don't know about you, but that sure got my attention! After all, I saw the movie Armageddon. I remember the fear, panic, potential devastation so narrowly averted by Bruce Willis, Billy Bob Thornton, and a young Ben Affleck.

Call the air force, the National Guard, somebody boil some water! The headline was doing its job -- I had to read this urgent story. I had to know what our government is doing to protect us from this looming doom. I had to know NOW!

Wait! Let me save you some time: Mark the date April 13, 2036 on your calendar. Unless you're over the age of 75, then I’m thinking that you probably don't have to worry about it. In fact, I'm not all that worried about it myself and I'm only (!) 46. It's still 29 years away. An awful lot can happen in 29 years.

Imagine if you had read such a warning in 1979 about a catastrophe due to happen today? Would you have done anything differently in the past 29 years? Called your mother more often? Eaten more chocolate cake? Not quit smoking? Had more sex?

OK, so cancel those calls to the military, maybe even the UN. But keep the water boiling – there's still lots of time for a nice cuppa tea.

Coming Out of the American Idol Closet

I am a secret American Idol fanatic. But I guess by the very nature of blogging, it’s no longer a secret.

I have always enjoyed previous episodes of the show, but I never set my television viewing schedule around it, like I do with House, MD. That’s how it all started. We had set our TIVO – PVR to record House every Tuesday night at 8:00 p.m. Then, Fox changed the schedule and put American Idol in the same timeslot. One lazy afternoon I curled up on the sofa to catch up on House and discovered American Idol in its place. I’ve been hooked ever since.

Now, I don’t love everything about American Idol. I feel physically ill when the judges are childishly and intentionally cruel to some of the contestants. It’s the worst when a contestant truly believes in his/her talents only to find none. It’s difficult to not be judgmental when watching a show dependent on judges, but often it’s easy to identify those who are already marginalized in society before they open their mouths to sing a single note. The judges should be kinder to people’s hopes and dreams.

The thrill of American Idol is seeing true, pure, unbridled talent in its rawest, unspoilt, and unmarketed form. Simon Cowell is a cruel man, but it is wonderfully exciting to watch his face in those first few moments of brilliance. The man is, without question, a tastemaker.

Randy Jackson is likeable enough and seems to wear his heart on his sleeve. I love to watch his eyes as he’s taken aback by the first few notes of a talented singer; as he focuses on the performer’s face, his eyes move strategically to sum up the potential package.

Paula Abdul is a useless judge, yet is critically useful in the group dynamic. She never speaks first, except to ask the others their opinion so that she can decide hers. Ironically, Paula Abdul was at one time a true talent with seemingly unlimited potential. But alas, she is proof that the Peter Principle rules.

I would like to have the same passion for Canadian Idol – and for our hopefuls, I do. Any of our Idols has as much talent as the US winners; unfortunately they lack the same resources (i.e. audience, marketing, budgets). Sadly, the Canadian judges leaving me wanting.

Here you have my American Idol confession. If you were to make a surprise visit to our house on a cold, snowy Sunday in February, you are likely to catch me with tears streaming down my face as another hopeful moves nearer or further from his or her dream of fame and fortune in Hollywood.

Caller ID Bullies

Twice in the last week we received telephone calls from bullies who have seen our telephone number appear on their call display who have then called us to find out what we wanted.

In the first case, my husband had misdialled his parents' phone number -- dialing the last two digits as 11 instead of 15. As soon as he realized the dialling error, he hung up and proceeded to call his parents, dialling correctly, of course. Fifteen minutes after the original error call, our telephone rang. "Why did you call me?," the stranger demanded.

This evening, the telephone rang about 6:15 p.m. "May I speak to Mr. Henderson," an older man asked. "I beg your pardon?" I replied. "Mr. Henderson. He called here today and I want to know why." Huh?

Since when did your telephone number became your private property? I've got news for these Caller ID Bullies -- a telephone number is loaned to you by the telephone company while you are leasing their service. It is not your sole domain. Perhaps you can post a "no tresspassing" sign on your telephone to stop telemarketers from calling, but sometimes it's just a wrong number. Nothing like pointing out another human being's failings by calling them up on a misdialled number. Let's remember that Caller ID generally also reports how many times that number has called your phone. We're not talking stalkers here. It's just a wrong number, thank you very much.

To the Caller ID Bullies: if I wanted to talk to you, Asshole, I would have left a message.

But thanks for calling.

Sentimental? Or Just Plain Mental?

I was looking for something in the basement today. Always happens like that - I start out looking for something and end up spending hours cleaning, organizing, completely distracted from the original task.

I still haven't found what I'm looking for, but I did come across a tonne of Shannon's childhood memories. No, really, a tonne! She's an only child, remember? There were great pictures, cards, artwork she had made, letters from school, report cards, Brownie badges, certificates from riding classes, swimming classes, drama camp.

I also came across this cartoon I had drawn, entitled "A Day in the Life of Shannon."




Click on the image to enlarge. If you can't read it, it says:

A Day in the Life of Shannon, Volume I. She woke up. Her cat didn't. She ate breakfast and read a book. She even put her dishes in the DW and read a book. She took a shower and read a book. She even read her book while she brushed her teeth! She even read a book while getting dressed and to catch the school bus. At school, all the other kids wanted to play. Shannon read her book instead. When the teacher was teaching math, Shannon would be reading her book. She even read her book while playing volleyball! Her team was happy when she scored 5 points! At lunch, she read her book (of course!). After school, she went shopping with her friends and she read a book!! When she went to the babysitter's, to the doctor's, even when she went to visit her Gramma, Shannon always had her nose in a book. Shannon loved to read! Especially when she went to bed! No matter where Shannon went, she read a book, except...... WHEN SHE WAS RIDING A HORSE! But when she went home agin, she read a book!

Hey, I didn't say it was good.... I just thought it was cute! Especially the pictures of the cat, the drawing of Shannon spiking the volleyball from behind the book, and the plant on the table at "Gramma's" house!

It's Paris Hilton's Fault! No, it's Lindsay Lohan's Fault! No, Wait! It's Britney Spears' Fault!

The Toronto Star today reported:

Sagging underwear hurts bottom line - CHARLOTTE, N.C. — Underwear and hosiery maker Hanesbrands said its profit for the quarter ended Dec. 30 tumbled 78 per cent as the company made its transition to a standalone business and sales of underwear dropped.

Our population is growing. There's a mini baby boom and our bulge of young people in the 18-30 year range is in the prime consuming demographic. Underwear sales should be INCREASING not decreasing.

The only logical reason sales are down? The skanks of Hollywood have undertaken recently to going bottomless. This must be the start of a horrible, unsanitary new trend. Never mind beware of sitting on toilet seats. Beware of sitting, um, anywhere.

Yuck.