I got pulled over for doing 80 in a 65.

Did I get a ticket?  No, no I did not.

Maybe it’s my boyish good looks or maybe it’s my voice cracking in front of police officers, but I’ve been pulled over for speeding six times in my life, and I’ve never gotten a ticket.

Topics Discussed: Shucks Officer, It Being Almost Thanksgiving and All

We do.  Because IT JUST HAPPENED!

You’ll note that the address is ours, but neither Steve Harvey nor Grown Folks Radio reside here.  Well, at least not today.

To our knowledge, Mr. Harvey has not requested that all of his mail be sent here.  Which is not to say that we’re not up for it, by the way.  I bet he gets all sorts of promotional mugs.

In the meantime, to our undoubtedly huge readership at 102.5fm: want to come pick this up?

No, we didn’t receive a check for 5 million dollars.  Or get sponsorship from Coca-Cola.  Or find an all-you-can-eat softserve store around the corner.

But our phones are dead.

Finally, Lain and I can completely stop speaking to people and rely exclusively on the comforts and lacking social interaction of email.  Yes!

Really, the phone interrupts us.  A lot.  And while we like people coming to see us, staying on the phone with them while they yell directions (and occasionally, expletives) at their driver can take up a lot of time and get us mightily off track.  So can trying to convince someone that despite what mapquest says, our street does still exist.

This is like a surprise vacation.

Anyhow, the phone culprit seems to be this gal.  Hi Fay!

Though it’s clearing up, over the last few days the weather has been excellent for our drought needs and “terrible” for our phone line needs.

We can’t be quite sure when the phone went out, so apologies for any inconvenience this may have caused you.  I know you all just love to call us here and gab the day away.

In the meantime, we’ll be working to get this fixed and enjoying the silence while it lasts.  Email if you need us!

Unfortunately, this is exactly what happened Monday.

I was returning from a trip and Lain was doing what we like to call “running all over town” which meant that, unlike most days, we were not sitting in front of our computers all day.  Plus, since it was a Monday (technically our day off, but Lain and I can usually be found in the office), neither of us were in a commitments-mindset.

Which is why we forgot about a tour that was set up months ago, and that we had agreed (happily) to bend our schedules for, considering the group.

Their reaction probably went a little something like this–

Click here to view the embedded video.

In short, this stinks.  Growing pains are inevitable, but man, they are not fun at all.

Related in an embarrassing vein–

• Hardware Store Customer Service

Folks around here are not happy.

(More pictures, along with the AJC article, here.)

You’d figure that with the city of Atlanta adding 20,000 citizens in the past year things like–oh I don’t know–fire stations would find their way in the budget.  Ours is the longest-running fire station in the city, established in 1910.  For continuity’s sake you figure they could’ve picked another station out of the hat.

#7 is easily the closest fire station to the Wren’s Nest.  They served us just last month when they provided us a truck for Wren’s Nest Fest.

I think they actually hired that kid.  Too bad he’s going to get laid off now.

There’s a protest planned for today at 11:30 am.  I’d expect television cameras and reporters there, so if you ever wanted to be on tv, now’s your chance.  You might could even help save our fire station, too.

If I’m not there it’s because I have a meeting until 12 and then another at 1.  Hopefully I’ll be able to wriggle out of ‘em.

Atypical: he also sounded exactly like my cousin, who periodically graces The Nest’s telephone with his unique and sonorous voice.

So naturally my response was, “Unfortunately, you just missed Lain. (pause) Am I related to you?!?”

I am not very smart.

Unsurprisingly, it was not in fact my cousin, but instead a mildly confused and (thankfully) very understanding stranger.

Professionalism at its best, folks.

Bogus.

I woke up yesterday morning with two emails in my inbox: (1) “Where is our storyteller?” and (2) “I missed my connecting flight and won’t be able to tell stories in the morning.” In other words, this is pretty much my worst nightmare.

Luckily, the winter before I took a job here, I worked at Aubuchon Hardware on the frozen tundra of northeastern Connecticut.

(Pretty sweet, huh?)

I learned a lot of things, but mostly I learned about what to do when you’re mixing paint and you put in too much red paint coloring and then you only find out after the customer has put some of the paint on his house.

Here’s what I do–

1. Apologize (Sorry I messed up your paint.)
2. Affirm (You have every right to be upset! Very few people want to live in a pink house, and I feel you, I really do.)
3. Explain* (I must have put in too much red because I don’t really know what I’m doing, plus the guy who is supposed to do it just got fired and I’m filling in for him.)
4. Apologize Again (Dude, I’m so sorry.)

Note: this is also helpful if you’re making keys and the key doesn’t work the first four times you do it.

Aside from giving the guy his money back, the best thing you can do–I think–is affirm the complaint. Even if you’re sleep-deprived, underpaid, and overworked, protesting is futile. Once you can affirm the complaint and empathize with the customer, you’ve got a small shot at regaining their trust.

Not only do you position yourself as someone who is on their team, but you’re also seen once again as a person and not the idiot who doesn’t know what’s going on.

Aside from that, I don’t know what to do, besides not dwelling on the past and ensuring it doesn’t happen again. Any other suggestions?

*Sometimes, if you do something really boneheaded, there’s no explanation necessary.

In this case, I thought an explanation was necessary because most of the circumstances were outside of my control. Being stranded in a different city at 11 pm is no fun, especially when you can’t find my cell phone number.

(Me, on a typical Saturday afternoon, brushing up on my comparing.)

You also know that Lain was but an English major. Good, sure, but no Comp. Lit.

So while Lain’s familial pedigree got him his cushy gig at the Wren’s Nest, it is my actual skill (pretend with me) that allows me to do important things like edit what Lain writes and then disparage him in blog form.

And while Lain and I will be the first to (obnoxiously, no doubt) endorse the benefits of a liberal arts education, our combined abilities to read and write (well-ish) have proven to be our best assets in positions for which we have no formal training.

Neat! Great! Doing well! Or so we thought.

I regret to inform you that Lain and I both missed a typo. In an end-of-the-year newsletter. That went out to important people with important money.

We are not proud.

Note: this typo was incurred in a sentence about not having a clue how to write a proper newsletter. Seems fitting. Sigh.