tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73886420760940978682024-03-13T11:04:30.198-07:00Huynh ComplainsHuynhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02138103634844466077noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388642076094097868.post-33376859969731790692010-05-23T16:26:00.000-07:002010-05-27T00:55:39.112-07:00How to Deal with one or more Collection Agencies<div style="text-align: justify;">A couple of years ago, I received a letter in the mail from a company called <a href="http://www.northlandgroup.com/">Northland Group Inc.</a>, stating that I owe their client, Capital One, money from an overcharged credit card. Out of first glance, the letter didn't look official. Why? It looked like they didn't spend the time to print the letter on an official letterhead. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(I've done enough photocopying to know what a document would look like after being photocopied multiple times. The fuzzy pixels was standing out like a sore thumb on certain parts of the letter.)</span></i> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">First of all, I do have a Capital One credit card, and the account number wasn't the same as the one they were claiming on the letter. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(But somehow they have my information)</span></i>. Secondly, I barely even used the card, and checking my account's activity via web, proved that the full amount they allowed me on my card was still untouched.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So I do what I assumed some people would, I typed up a letter, printed it on really nice paper, stating that the information they sent me was false, and that I am disputing their claim, and that they have 30 days according to the "<a href="http://www.ftc.gov/bcp/edu/pubs/consumer/credit/cre27.pdf">Fair Debt Collection Practices Act</a>", to correct, or remove the claim, or face the consequences. Guess what happened? I didn't receive any response letter from them after that. Below is the first letter I received from them.<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (I have blurred important information for privacy and protection purposes).</span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8hV7ycTI/AAAAAAAAAN4/jF5UMK85gec/s1600/doc_1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 291px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8hV7ycTI/AAAAAAAAAN4/jF5UMK85gec/s400/doc_1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474614103055167794" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">So after 3 years, a company, calling themselves, First National Collection Bureau, Inc. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(I apologize for not being able to find their website, apparently every time I type in their company's name, there's a whole bunch of scam/rip-off reports on them, made by almost everyone they've contacted). <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Anyways, they</span></span></span></i> sent me a very suspicious looking letter, claiming the exact same thing that the Northland Group Inc. stated years earlier. They claimed that I owe their original creditor, Capital One, money. Other than my name and address located near the top part of the letter, it didn't really state who, specifically the letter was for. I went to a design school, so when I saw the layout of the letter, and how it was written, red flags started to wave wildly in my head. It was definitely a scam.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">They stated in the letter,<b> "This is to advise you that your delinquent account has been assigned to our office for collection by the above mentioned client. Unless you notify this office within 30 days after receiving this notice that you dispute the validity of this debt or any portion thereof, this office will assume this debt is valid." </b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(Exact same quote from the letter)</span></i>.<b> </b>At the bottom part of the letter, they have a "detachable coupons" section, that you can use, to send in payments after you give them your credit card information.<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (I know this sounds rhetorical, but do I look stupid? Hahaha, to those who say "yes".)</span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Just like before, I sent them the same letter I sent to the Northland Group Inc., disputing their claim. I figured,<b> "If they're trying to scam me out of my hard earned money, I might as well let them know, I'm not an easy prey."</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Below is the second letter I received from another collection agency claiming the same thing as the previous collection agency.<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> </span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8dG_kFKI/AAAAAAAAANw/xsJC9LCXzoI/s1600/doc_2.jpg"></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8dG_kFKI/AAAAAAAAANw/xsJC9LCXzoI/s1600/doc_2.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 400px; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8dG_kFKI/AAAAAAAAANw/xsJC9LCXzoI/s400/doc_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474614030324995234" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">About a month later, I received another letter from yet again, another collection agency. This time they call themselves, <a href="http://www.zenithacq.com/">Zenith Acquisition Corp</a>. Now, at this time, I was really confused. I took a look at all the previous letters I've received from all these collection agencies, and not once did they seem to connect with each other. How were they getting my information and sending me all these false claims, stating that I owe their, <b>"supposed client, Capital One"</b> money? </div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I took a look at Zenith's letter, and they stated, <b>"We are in receipt of your correspondence. Please be advised that Zenith Acquisition Corp. has put this account in a hold status, while we obtain validation of the debt."</b> Instead of receiving a letter from First National Collection Bureau, Inc., that they have handed my claim over to Zenith, I guess I was suppose to <b>"assume" </b>that, whatever was going on, didn't need to be explained thoroughly, instead, just ignore it and give in.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I grew up having the mentality of not giving people an easy option of getting what they want. I believe, <b>"You have to earn it."</b> So I decided to do a little research on Zenith, <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(after finding out that they had a misspelled word in their letter - which I've highlighted in yellow)</span></i>, that doesn't really give them a very good credibility to whether or not they're a legitimate company. What I found was interesting. Just like the previous agencies I've mentioned earlier, Zenith seemed to be doing some scamming on people who had never opened an account with a credit card company, or had paid the debt, but were still getting pursued. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Below is the third letter I received, having to deal with the same issue: owing Capital One money.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8XzFDJLI/AAAAAAAAANo/hz6igSaGwms/s1600/doc_3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 291px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8XzFDJLI/AAAAAAAAANo/hz6igSaGwms/s400/doc_3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474613939079947442" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I've seen it on local news, where a lot of "companies" would pop out of nowhere, sounding as if they're the real deal, and trying to steal important information from people over the phone <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(such as their personal information, and their credit card number)</span></i>, claiming that the money they owe had to be paid in partial to full amounts, or they would face legal consequences. If I didn't know any better, I'd probably freak out, and give my card number right away, but yet again, money is really hard to come by these days, so even if they were persuasive, I still had to do some questioning and research.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I decided to write a nice letter to Capital One, requesting that they give me information on my <b>"supposed account" </b>I owed money to, and guess what they said? The account has been sold to North Star Acquisitions<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (a company in which I can't even find a legitimate website to, and seems to also-be-known-as Zenith Acquisitions Inc.)</span></i>. How conveniently suspicious.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Below is the response letter Capital One sent me a couple of days after I sent them a request letter:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8TuTwO2I/AAAAAAAAANg/SAultNWhp_8/s1600/doc_4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 291px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8TuTwO2I/AAAAAAAAANg/SAultNWhp_8/s400/doc_4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474613869079968610" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">Since Zenith showed more legitimate information on their site, I decided to give them a call. This was around 4PM on a week day around early May. Apparently their hours weren't suppose to be closed until an hour or so after 4PM. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So I left a message, something along the line of this: <b>"Hello, I'm calling in regards to account __________, and would like to know the current status, since I sent in a letter disputing your incorrect, and possibly a false claim. If you get this message, please call me back immediately, at ___________."</b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The next day, around 9AM, I received 3 back-to-back calls from Zenith. I was working, and was NOT in the mood to set my time aside to answer the calls, so a guy left me 2 messages,<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (it sounded like he was reading from a sheet of paper, because he left the SAME message on my voice mail twice)</span></i>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He said, <b>"Hi, this is J-, I'm returning your call as you requested in regards to your account, if you're looking to find a way to pay back the debt you owe, I would love to set up a payment option with you, again, we are a collection agency, and would like to tell you that this is a call to attempt to collect debt. Please call me back at __________, thank you."</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(I'm not going to be stating his name, just so he won't get harassed, or worse, get any hurt feelings.)</span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I just can't believe that he never answered my question. Instead, he just stated that I owe money, and maybe setting up a payment option? Oh, please. Learn to listen before you assume. So out of my frustration, I went online and did further research on how to handle <b>"no-so-legitimate collection agencies"</b>. I stumbled on eHow: <a href="http://www.ehow.com/how_5794636_collection-agency-valid.html">How to know if a collection agency is valid</a>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A couple of people recommended that I take a look at the company's chamber of commerce, and see if they were a registered member. If they're not found there, then check the <a href="http://www.bbb.org/us/">Better Business Bureau</a>, and see their rating. Since Zenith was located in Amherst, New York, I went to the <a href="http://www.amherst.org/">Amherst Chamber of Commerce</a>, and couldn't find any information on them.<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (As you can see, I was on th last page, and there was no Zenith)</span></i>. However, I did find something on the better business bureau site, and their rating was not very shocking to me, in the least.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8MswryVI/AAAAAAAAANY/EPBPj4RiRZ4/s1600/acc.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 380px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8MswryVI/AAAAAAAAANY/EPBPj4RiRZ4/s400/acc.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474613748405356882" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8CfOLjyI/AAAAAAAAANQ/4kx-fuEM8UQ/s1600/bbb_1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 378px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m8CfOLjyI/AAAAAAAAANQ/4kx-fuEM8UQ/s400/bbb_1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474613572972285730" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m7-IZu_yI/AAAAAAAAANI/0U4RUG-vvsU/s1600/bbb_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 378px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m7-IZu_yI/AAAAAAAAANI/0U4RUG-vvsU/s400/bbb_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474613498127253282" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This didn't comfort me, instead, all it did, was make me angry. Zenith was the reason why I wasn't eligible to borrow a loan. Even after all the years of building up my credit, one STUPID false report caused a huge blockage to any future plans I have. I wasn't going to let this go easily. I went back to Zenith Acquisition's website, and sought out any other flaws they might have. They claimed that they were a part of the <a href="http://www.acainternational.org/">American Collection Association International</a>, a site in which I think is a huge hub where everyone goes to learn how to scam people and profit money. But hey, it works, and they are definitely a member of it.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m73CKdZaI/AAAAAAAAANA/URp1kupN9UE/s1600/acai.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 311px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tBesqaouhKs/S_m73CKdZaI/AAAAAAAAANA/URp1kupN9UE/s400/acai.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474613376193488290" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So how did the story end? I waited 3 days before returning the call to the guy who left the message on my phone. When the gentleman picked up the call, <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(he sounded like he was fresh out of high school- so young!)</span></i>, I gave him my account number<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (never giving him or telling him my name)</span></i>. He never even asked, I guess he didn't care. This is how the conversation went:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Hi, I'm calling in regards to account </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>__________."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: "Is this in regards to making a payment?"</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "No, I assume you guys received my letter </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>disputing your false claims? I left you a message </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>several days ago, requesting to know the status </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>of the, what, 'hold account' as you stated in your</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> letter?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-:</b> <b>"Let me see, </b><i>*PAUSE*</i><b>, we did receive a letter </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>from you, and yes your account is currently on </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>hold."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "You know you have 30 days to validate the </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>claim you made on my false account."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: "I'm sorry miss, but this account is legitimate- </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>just for the fact that you opened the account with </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Capital One, and it shows here that there has been </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>some payments made on the account, so you can't </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>just claim that this is a false account."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "J- is it?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: "Yes."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">ME: "I have a question for you."</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: "Yes?"</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Is your company registered under the Amherst </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Chamber of Commerce?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-:</b> <b>"What?"</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "You're located in Amherst, New York, right?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-:</b><i> *PAUSE* </i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(then the phone line went dead quiet for about 2 minutes)</span></span></i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Different gentleman spot to me on the other line and J- was nowhere to be heard.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>T-:</b> <b>"Hello? Hi, this is T-, we are registered in </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>under Amherst Chamber of Commerce."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Oh? What's your rating on the better business </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>bureau?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>T-:<b> "We are an A rating Mame."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Really? I'm looking at it right now, and it </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>doesn't look that way to me. Unless you're trying </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>to say I'm illiterate, or blind, but I'm definitely </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>seeing a letter F. If you'd like to dispute that, I'd </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>like to see a print out of your 'A' rated fact sheet"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>T-: "Okay. I don't know where you're getting the </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>information, but since I checked last, I saw an A."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME:<b> </b>"Okay, then I'd like to know, when will I be </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>getting validation on my request on the account </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>you're claiming I owe?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>T-: "It shows here, </b><i>*PAUSE*</i><b>, we received your letter </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>April 2, 2010, and have sent out orders April 12, 2010, </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>and it should be arriving to you soon."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "How will I know when I'll receive it?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>T-: "What usually happens is, we send out a request to </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Capital One to obtain all the paperworks necessary for </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>this dispute you've made. We make a copy of it, and </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>then another copy for you, and that copy will be sent in </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>the mail for you. You still live at __________, correct?"</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Yes. The law does state that you have 30 days to </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>send me the requested documents, and if it's past 30 </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>days, you have to remove any false information you </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>have on the credit report."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>T-:</b> <b>"We know, tell you what, call us back a week from now, </b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>and we'll definitely have it, if not it should be on it's way."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Okay, thank you."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>T-: "No, thank you." <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i>*HANGS UP* </i></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">About a week and one day later, I called Zenith Acquisition up again. Stupid me, I forgot to ask this different gentleman, his name. I gave him my account number, and asked him what was the current status of my claim and the paperworks that have been ordered. This guy obviously sounded like he didn't know what I was talking about, or didn't comprehend what his job really meant, so he asked if I could hold on the line. I agreed, and around 10 to 15 minutes have passed, my patience was getting less and less manageable. After 15 minutes had past, suddenly a familiar voice came one the line.</div><div><br /></div><div>This was how the second conversation since the previous week started:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: "Hello?"</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Hi, so what's the status on my account."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: "What account? Who is this?"</b></div><div><br /></div><div>My temper suddenly gave way, and I was seeing red.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "What the f--- do you mean 'who is this?'?! I was put </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>on hold for more than 10 minutes, so that dumb f--- could </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>go and check on the status of my account! Then you come </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>on the line, and give me jack s---."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "I'm sorry, but this is the first time I got you on this line-"</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Is this J-?!"<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (I could recognize his voice.)</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "Yes it is."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Oh. Oh, good. Well, this is _______. I called a week ago, </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>and I talked to you in regards to my account."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "Uh huh."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Before we go any further, take out a sheet of paper and </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>something to write with, you know, anything that is legible to </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>the eye, unless you're blind. Or how about this, let's type it in, </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>t-y-p-e, onto the keyboard, so we can get past this faster, what </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>do you think?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: "Okay."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "The number is<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (I literally annunciated each and every </span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> </span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">number out to him as if he didn't understand English)</span></i>. Would </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>you like me to repeat it? I mean, I have all day."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: "No, I got it, thanks."</b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (I could hear the annoyance in his voice.)</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "So? Quit being mute, tell me what the hell is going on </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>with my account."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "We ordered the documents as of April 12. So it should be </b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>arriving shortly."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "You guys said that last time. What is today, if you don't </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>mind me asking?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "May 21."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "What year?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "2010."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Good. When was the documents ordered?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: "April 12."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "What year, again?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "2010."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "So it's the same year?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "Yes."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "So, since April 12, 2010 and today, May 21, 2010, how </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>many days has it been?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: "I don't know."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "What the f---, do you mean, 'I don't know?' Can't you </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>do a simple math problem? How many days on average is </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>in a month?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "30."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Good, so do the math."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "I don't know."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "You need to f---ing go back to high school if you can't </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>do that math in your head."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "I graduated from college, thank you very much."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Oh really? Me too."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "And I have a degree."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Wow, aren't we smart. Who's your manager right now?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "G.Z."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Go tell him I want to speak with him, N.O.W, now!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: "He's on the phone."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "I don't give a f---, you go and tell him, that there's a b----, </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>that needs to speak to his fake a-- now."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: *Covers the mouth piece of the phone, mumbles to the </b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>background*</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Then my phone went quiet for a few minutes.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "H- told me that your account needs to be closed because </b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>back in 2002 to 2004, a lot of Vietnamese people got their </b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>identity stolen, and you were one of them."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "So you disregarded my dispute, reported some damaging </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>information on my credit report, and now saying that it's all </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>your fault?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>J-: "We're going to remove it now, just let me write up what H- </b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>told me."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "I'm assuming you'll be sending me a letter stating all this?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "Yes, we're sorry about this."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Sorry I told you to go back to school."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "Same here, sorry it got out of hand." </b><i>*PAUSE* <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(I heard some </span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> </span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">typing in the background, and him talking to someone in the </span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> </span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">background)</span></i><b>. Okay, you should be receiving a letter in the mail </b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>in a couple of days."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "So if I were to check my credit report, this false report </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>will be removed?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>J-: "Yes."</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ME: "Okay, thanks."<i> *HUNG UP* </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So as of now, I'm currently waiting for the letter to arrive. I don't believe I should be courteous towards people who don't know what they're talking about, and seem to try and cheat me out of facts. I didn't mean to give J- such a hard time, but he didn't help represent the company very well, especially when I asked him simple questions. He couldn't even hold his temper! If anyone has or is dealing with this kind of situation, I highly recommend you visit the <a href="http://www.ftc.gov/bcp/edu/pubs/consumer/credit/cre21.shtm">Federal Trade Commission</a>, and try to protect your credit scores from any information that has been reported incorrectly. Know your rights, and know that you can do something about it. I will update the result to the ending of this chapter- soon!</div></div>Huynhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02138103634844466077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388642076094097868.post-91832518162725599732010-05-20T22:44:00.000-07:002010-05-20T23:03:48.078-07:00The Haircut: "drawn"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2010/140/b/2/The_Haircut_by_anh_huynh.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 450px; height: 4255px;" src="http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2010/140/b/2/The_Haircut_by_anh_huynh.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">This is what usually happens on a random moment, only when I feel like picking on my beloved boyfriend, Addam. Poor fella!<br /></div>Huynhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02138103634844466077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388642076094097868.post-40604852206450399322010-05-19T13:38:00.000-07:002010-05-19T22:47:51.181-07:00Driving Recklessly Doesn't Get You There Any Faster: "a Personal note to ALL Dumb Drivers out there"<div style="text-align: left;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">There are many things I hate, when it comes to </span><a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/commuting"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">commuting</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">. </span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">These past few weeks as my mom was driving me to work, I noticed how stupid people get when driving. It's like a whole new world, sitting inside the car looking out. I look to my right and there's someone who's talking on the cell phone and smoking, <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(that's a nice way to go out)</span></i>, and to the back, some idiot riding our ass, and in the front, the person keeps braking when there weren't any other cars doing the same. I just can't believe how the basic concept of driving can be so difficult for some people to grasp.</div><div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">When I'm a pedestrian, I hate it when people cross against the light, egging on the drivers to hate me when I do cross, when the light permits. What's even worse is, as I'm half way across from my start point, heading towards my destination, these idiotic drivers would drive past me just a few feet away. What if I dropped something behind, and had to go back and grab it? If I didn't get hurt, that item would sure be a goner. Come on drivers, as my mom says, <span style="font-weight: bold;">"It takes years to gain <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/intelligence">intelligence</a>, and only a mere second to become <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/stupid">stupid</a>." </span>I have to agree with her on that. I rarely walk across the streets, or intersections, and even walking on the sidewalk seems dangerous. There are so many crazy drivers out there.<br /><br />That's not to say I hate driving, no, I, myself, prefer to drive as a main choice of transportation. But it's never quite as enjoyable as I'd expected. <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">(I never really wanted to drive when I turned 15, but thanks to my dad, I had to)</span>. There are a ton of responsibilities when you're a driver. It's sort of like a game; you're main problem is having to deal with many repeating issues on the road.<br /><br />First, you have to make sure to spot out all the crazy pedestrians that feels like they own the road, and that they can cross at any time they feel, because if they don't see you, they're not at fault. Well, <b>"mister or misses pedestrian"</b>, WRONG! You don't own the road, and I would appreciate it if you would think about your safety, as well as the mental and emotional well-being of your families and friends.<br /><br />It's even worse at night, when everyone feels fancy, and decides to dress up in dark to black clothes. Did we magically developed night visions without me knowing about it?! If we did, I sure am behind on the sudden evolutionary trend. I wear glasses, and my glasses doesn't have a scratch resistant coating on it, so do you know what that means? That means, they have scratches on them, and it causes a bit of problem, when <span style="font-weight: bold;">"all-dressed-up-in-black pedestrians"</span> leisurely cross the road, between parked cars near areas where it's lowly lit. Hey, it's the fashion we are all trying to set for our future generations. Instead of, <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Look both ways before you cross"</span>, it's probably going to be something like this, <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Cross when you feel like it, and just be sure to survive when you get hit, so you can sue."</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">(That's the way of getting rich on quick, painful, but easy big bucks!) </span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Not only do I have a problem with the color choices of clothing, and pedestrians walking against the light, what irritates me a lot, is when parents don't punish their kids correctly when they violate the rules on playing it safe as a pedestrian. On numerous occasions, I would see kids running ahead of their guardians, and then realize that they've put themselves in a dangerous situation, and just stand there, waiting for something to happen. Then the guardians would run over to the kid, and give you the 'evil eye', and just lecture the kid and continue their walk as if it was your own wrong doing, and <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Shame on you!" </span>If that was my kid, we'd have a long talk, and several examples of what happens when you let your head go before your brain.<br /></div><br /><br />As a driver, I also have to deal with other drivers. Here are a list them:<br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">(the bold has no significance, just to differentiate the listing) </span><br /><ol><li>Slower than the speed limit drivers</li><li style="font-weight: bold;">Speeding above the speed limit drivers</li><li>Constantly putting on their breaks of no reason drivers</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Constantly changing their speed limit when no signs enforces it drivers</span><br /></li><li>Changing lanes without signaling drivers</li><li style="font-weight: bold;">Changing lanes with the wrong signal drivers</li><li style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; ">Keeps their signals on but keeps driving drivers</span></li><li><b>Weaving through lanes drivers</b></li><li>Blocking an intersection when they know traffic ahead isn't moving anywhere drivers</li><li><b>Lane-hog drivers</b></li><li>Too afraid to pass a car because they can't measure the distance drivers</li><li><b>Likes to ride up on another car's ass drivers</b></li><li>Talking on the phone or texting with barely any hands on the wheel drivers</li><li><b>Booming loud, obnoxious music drivers</b><br /></li><li>and many more...</li></ol><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Sometimes I feel sorry for myself for having to deal with these types of drivers, and I'm sorry if any of you have dealt, dealing with, or will deal with these types of drivers. Have I ever been one of those, myself? <b><i>*Thinks about it*</i></b>, yes and no. I might with the talking on the phone way back before the law on hands-free was passed in Oregon. Now as an adult, I rather keep my life than to risk it, physically and emotionally. I like to enjoy my car ride with the music for my ears only, and take in the view of my surroundings. Life is too short, and the more I can take in, the better. Everything never looks the same twice, and why waste an opportunity? Also, my parents has taught me well. I also stand up for myself, against people who think they can do whatever they want on the road. That'll be a different story for next time, *evil giggles*.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The one thing I think, that a majority of drivers and pedestrians can agree with me on, is that we don't really like bicyclists. The reasoning in my perspective is, more than 50 percent of bicyclists do not obey any traffic rules. If I'm wrong, then I just keep bumping into the wrong people. In Portland, we have a large number of bicyclists near the Burnside, Morrison, Belmont, Hawthorne, Division, Holgate, Woodstock and so forth, areas. This is only in areas where I, more than often, travel through<i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(I can avoid it, but that's not beneficial for me in saving time and money)</span></i>. A small number of other bicyclists actually obey traffic laws, and make commuting enjoyable for almost everyone.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Bikes can travel through narrower spaces. Capable of traveling on different surfaces, and lack a lot of important tools to protect the rider, <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(only if the rider decides not to invest their money into those needed tools for their safety)</span></i>. Bikes, themselves, cannot create a problem. It's the people who ride them that creates the problem. How?</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I'll list you the different types of bicyclists there are, just as there are different types of drivers:</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; ">(again, the bold has no significance, just to differentiate the listing) </span></div><ol><li>Hogging a whole lane on a one-lane road bicyclists</li><li><b>Crossing an intersection while the light is red bicyclists</b></li><li>Turning without proper signalling bicyclists</li><li><b>Slow annoying and creating a large car pile up bicyclists</b></li><li>Swerving left to right bicyclists</li><li><b>Weaving between parked cars and idle cars bicyclists</b></li><li>Not wearing or having proper tools at all times bicyclists</li><li><b>Putting themselves, pedestrians and drivers in danger bicyclists</b></li><li>and many more...</li></ol><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">I just don't get how people can gamble their lives away, er, I mean, risk their lives, just to find the most fastest and convenient way possible to get to their destination faster. In honest truth, you MIGHT get there faster, if you weren't dealing with traffic lights, stop signs, pedestrians, bicyclists or drivers on a less busy road, but face it, chances are, you won't. Plan ahead, leave a couple of minutes early, and remember, it's not only your life that you're risking, it's everyone else AND yours. So don't let your head go before your brains.</div></div></div>Huynhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02138103634844466077noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388642076094097868.post-16598190609941748802010-05-18T14:10:00.000-07:002010-05-18T20:13:12.971-07:00I Lost a Friend That Wasn't My Friend<div><div style="text-align: justify; ">There are a lot of things I think about when I'm alone in my room. I get lonely <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">(in a mental and emotional sense)</span></i>. I grew up being an only child, and having play dates with girls my age, back in my day, it wasn't my perfect cup of tea. They were mean, snoody as well as vendictive. I couldn't play with their toys when they invited me to play, and if I was allowed, I'm only allowed the ones where they thought I was perfectly suited for. I usually preferred to have play dates with boys. At least they understand the concept of play, and just having a fun time.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">I'm not saying I hate girls, but they don't seem to just see me as a friend. But the ones I am friends with, still to this day, they're worth keeping. I love them, and try to be there and give my support as well as my understanding when they need me most. I don't expect the same in return, because a friendship doesn't necessarily mean that it's a give and take, back and forth constantly. There are times when you don't receive anything in return, and being a true friend, you'll understand and accept that, no questions asked.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Back in 2002, I made many awesome friends, and there was one in particular that was dear to my heart. We were like sisters. We shared fun times with happy moments and even sad times, and through the laughter and tears, something just happened. By 2005, our friendship drifted apart, and I tried to find the reason for it, even to this day. I can only make assumptions when I get frustrated, not knowing why I was getting the silent treatment, or that awkward mood everyone's in when I'm around. In high school, I spoke my mind, I didn't care if it hurts someone's feelings. That's my mechanism in protecting my pride and feelings when I'm not feeling like I'm being heard or understood. I was still a kid!</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">There are always two sides to a story if it involves two people. Maybe more sides to the story depending on the number of participants in the story. I'm not saying that my story should be interpreted as the only story, no, it's just my side, my thoughts and feelings. I'm just frustrated at how I put the effort in, and receive none on the other end.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">After graduation in 2006, I gave my ex-friend a call and asked where our friendship stood, she told me that she's not ready to face that question, just give her some time. Later that year, I gave her another call, and her number was disconnected. We occassionally bump into each other, but she treated me as if she hated my guts. I cried every single time that happened at night in my bed. It's a bad breakup.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Over a period of time, that sadness haunts me and turns my emotions to anger. I tried to contact her, and she's a very hard person to seek out. I didn't want to drag our group of friends into it, because it's my issue I need to resolve and accept. So here I am now, in 2010, finally got the courage to do everything in my power to drag her out in the open to tell her how I feel, and seek her side of the story. I tried myspacing her, searching facebook to see if she had an account. I even googled her. I realized that I was becoming stalkerish, so I asked our group of friends for her number. One of the number didn't work, but the second one did. I was afraid to call, because I knew I might cry, so instead, I texted her. This is how the conversation went:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; ">NOTE: I edited her name to be called "ex-friend" and any other names in parenthesis. This is for respect in keeping it anonymous.</div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">(For those who might know who I'm talking about, please in respect to her and me, don't type it in the comment box, or play the guessing game)</span></i></b>.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Text message convo started: 9:09 AM</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>ME: </b>Is this (the ex-friend's) cell?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>EX-FRIEND: </b>Who is this?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>ME: </b>Huynh.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>EX-FRIEND:</b> How did u get my number?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>ME: </b>I asked (a friend). If this is (the ex-friend), I just wanted to talk later today, that is all.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>EX-FRIEND: </b>Talk about what? i dont think thats necessary.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>ME: </b>It's been more than 4 years. A grudge has to dissipate sooner or later, why can't you accept the past being the past, and just be mature about things? I never stopped thinking about you, and I listened to you when I asked when you'll be ready to talk. If you're upset when we were in the same store and I didn't say anything, well, it's not my fault, you wanted distance.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>EX-FRIEND: </b>Omg wat the hell is wrong with u? All of a sudden after so long n now ur texting me shit n blaming everything on me? Ur the one that had the grudge n u r the one that distance from EVERYONE. I forgot about the store incident its only u whos not over the past. I guess some ppl never grow up n that includes u immature one.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>ME: </b>How am I suppose to know how you feel when you don't tell me? Your number gets disconnected, fine, I'm immature. I don't distance myself, I give space when others request it. I don't know how you feel if you don't tell me. You can't yell at me for making assumptions. I just want to work things out, that's all I ask. I ask for forgiveness, and compassion as well as understanding from you. I can't understand if you don't tell me. I regret the past in some sense, and just want to know. I also want to make this clear, there is no blaming, just acknowledging what I know of the known. I admit I was in the wrong in the past, but people change, and they are different than what they were as adolescents.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>EX-FRIEND:</b> U know wat just leave me alone i dont want u in my life at all. And its not that i dont forgive but ur existence is not important to me therefore i dont even think about anything that has to do with u. Sure ppl change but by the way u sound it looks like ur still the same hypocrite huynh to me</div><div><br /></div><div><b>ME:</b> That's all I want from you, just the truth, and closure. Correction: everyone is a hypocrite, I'm not unique enough to just be the only one. May God bless you and your future, and I mean it, and He knows, even if you doubt my sincerity.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Text message convo ended: 10:06 AM</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">That's how the story ends. She wasn't being fair at all, but I guess life's not fair to everyone, so it's not something I should be hung up on. I guess I lost a friendship that really wasn't a friendship back in 2006, but before the conversation ended, she was still my friend, whether she viewed me as her friend or not.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">After all was said and done, I'm glad to say, <b>"It's finally resolved, let's move forward!"</b>There are plenty of things in life to look forward to, and avoid.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span>Price per text message? <b>10 cents</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>Price for tissue paper? <b>$1</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>Price for a lost friendship? <b><i>Priceless</i></b></div></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs51/f/2009/289/0/4/04c1c9daf39c9e1006792c871af355ee.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 700px;" src="http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs51/f/2009/289/0/4/04c1c9daf39c9e1006792c871af355ee.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Image by <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 81, 71); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a href="http://awakeen.deviantart.com/art/Lost-friendship-140369737">Simon Dalin</a></span></b></i></span></span></span></i></b></div>Huynhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02138103634844466077noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388642076094097868.post-57603270878543755972010-05-17T23:00:00.000-07:002010-05-18T20:14:46.522-07:00Stale Bread and Dried up Ink: Bad Customer Service<div>I rarely get to take my mom out to enjoy all that life has to offer, due to my hectic schedule of my internship, freelancing as well as prepping for further schooling in June. When I do get the opportunity, I jump right on it. I just love making those who are closest to me happy<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (especially my mommy)</span></i>, because a smile brightens my day. A majority of my dampened mood usually results from my mom's constantly changing moods. She's like those mood rings that gives you more than one color, and you have to search what that odd looking color means. Even though she's my mom, and we're always together, I still to this day, never understand why she's angry or upset from one moment to the next.</div><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Anyways, I got the opportunity to take my mom to Hawthorne Blvd. last weekend, to go window shopping and hopefully grab some useful items here and there in the amazing shops, but it didn't end on a good note. Now, Hawthorne is currently on my mom's hate list. I can't blame her, I was about to do some damage there myself that day. What happened you might ask? How could 'we' hate Hawthorne? What could possibly cause this particular hatred suddenly? It's not the shoppers, or the small shops or even the beggars on the streets, no. It was one particular *cough* cafe. I don't know if I should name them- but for the sake of getting this irritation off my chest, I'm talking about <a href="http://www.breadandinkcafe.com/">Bread and Ink Cafe</a>. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(If any of you have ever eaten there and loved it, I'm sorry, but I never got a single bite out of that place.)</span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"><br /></span></i></div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.roadfood.com/photos/mini_3918.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 263px;" src="http://www.roadfood.com/photos/mini_3918.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Provided by <a href="http://www.roadfood.com/Restaurant/Reviews/1538/bread-and-ink-caf">RoadFood.com</a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.urbanspoon.com/r/24/280468/restaurant/Hawthorne/Bread-and-Ink-Cafe-Portland"><img alt="Bread and Ink Cafe on Urbanspoon" src="http://www.urbanspoon.com/b/link/280468/minilink.gif" style="border:none;width:130px;height:36px" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">What happened was, mom and I got hungry after browsing for an hour in a half from one shop to the next, and it was past noon on a beautiful sunny Saturday. I felt my stomach growl in need of a much needed rest and fulfillment, and so did my mom's. I asked her,<b> "What're you interested in eating today?"</b>, and she said <b>"It's up to you."</b> I looked around thinking, and there to my left, was <a href="http://www.breadandinkcafe.com/">Bread and Ink Cafe</a>. So I grabbed my mom's hands and we walked inside. I'm not exaggerating when I say this, but the cafe had 10 people dining, and out of all those 10 people, there was only 3 tables that were in use. Mom made a comment that perhaps the shop just opened and people weren't as hungry so that's why it's not as busy. We stood there for a while because they had a nicely written sign that said <b>"Please wait to be seated, thank you!" </b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Mom didn't take notice of this at first, but I did, this man <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(whom I don't know his name, it would be helpful for name tags, but hey, we're not in school)</span></i> looked at us, acknowledging our presence, then walks off. He then returns, and looks at us again, this time, he went back to where he disappeared to in the first place and comes out, walking towards us with 2 menus in hand. You know when you look at someone, you just look at them with maybe a smile and ask them how they're doing? <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(Otherwise you look away and not make yourself out to be a creep?)</span></i> Well this guy didn't ask us until he took us to our table. He didn't ask what we wanted to drink, instead he left and came back with 2 glasses of water and asked, <b>"So do you ladies know what you want?"</b> I then politely asked him for some time. He left to tend to the table right next to us and so forth to the next 2 tables.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Mom and I sat there for more than 10 minutes, already knowing what we wanted after 5 minutes of looking at the menu. So after 10 minutes <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(I checked my iPhone multiple times and when the numbers add up to be more than 10, I know for a fact this isn't a usual amount you give to your customers)</span></i>. I then turned around to search for the guy to try and make eye contact. He was standing near the door, talking to a couple of other workers there. If he was walking hastily in and out of the kitchen, by all means, take your time, but he had one of his foot crossed over to the other, and his hip slanted in a "leisure" pose. I then looked at the other tables that were served, and I felt weird if I raised my hands, since it's not a school environment I was in. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A very nice lady came to pour water for the tables that needed their cups replenished, and I told her, <b>"We're ready to order"</b>, she giggles nervously and says, <b>"Sorry, I'm only a bus girl, I don't take orders."</b> She then hurries away getting the waiter, if he even is one to service our table. It's that same man who seated us earlier. Now I'm telling you, mostly on my observation in the guy's customer service, because my mom at that time was a bit red in the cheeks and her lips where turned down to a frown, as well as her nose slightly flaring. It's scary when you grow up seeing all of your parents expressions. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(Or at least I feel that way)</span></i>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The guy then walks over the the other tables and asks if everything was good, and if they needed anything else before he walked over to our table, not even acting or looking as if maybe letting a customer wait more than 10 minutes could be over doing the request, but hey, that's our problem. He asks, <b>"So are you set on what you want?"</b>, I replied with as much courtesy as I can, <b>"Yeah, I'd like <a href="http://www.breadandinkcafe.com/Breakfast.html">Belgian waffles</a> and a <a href="http://www.breadandinkcafe.com/Lunch_Menu.html">grilled chicken Caesar salad</a>, thanks."</b> He didn't collect the menus after he jotted down perhaps 2 or 3 words on his note pad and left.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I told my mom it's okay, but the way he was acting already poked a major hole in the dam. My mom told me that she's sick of the treatment and she lost her appetite. Never in her life has she been treated as if she didn't deserve to be serviced with respect, why did all the other customers receive the utmost courtesy <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(first time customers too)</span></i>, did we look like we don't have any money to pay for our food? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Of course we spoke in our Native tongue so nobody there understood a word we were saying, but they could probably guess by my mom's body language as she was grabbing her purse and getting out of her seat.<b> "I don't want to eat here anymore, and I'm going outside, this place makes me feel ill."</b> She walks on out, and for being a nice lady, I walked up to their bar counter and requested a different guy behind the counter<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (whom was more nice and understanding)</span></i> that I wanted to put the order to go instead of just canceling the order all in all, and he said fine. I paid almost $20 bucks for the food. Did I leave a tip? No. He obviously proved himself unworthy of it. I told the guy I'll be sitting outside to wait so I can enjoy the weather, and he said it'll take no more than 3 to 5 minutes. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(The time we spent waiting to be serviced, the food would have probably been more than half way consumed)</span></i>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I hate seeing my mom upset<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (a majority of you would probably agree)</span></i>. As we were waiting, a lady walked by with her dog, and from out of nowhere, another dog lunged forward, broke free from its leash AND collar, and I swear, I thought it was going to maul that lady's dog. The owner of the loose dog grabbed it, and it almost bit him, until he grabbed it's ears and spoke in a scary tone, <b>"How dare you growl at me?!</b>"<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;"> (If I knew any better, I wouldn't growl, even as a human at him)</span></i>. The dog coward itself, and seemed to calm down. To think that all that vicious chase was just to sniff the dog's butt. I'll never understand certain things.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, back to the waiting, after the lady walked off, the bus girl came out with 2 boxes in her hand and handed it to me and said thanks, and ran back in. Mind you, I paid almost $20 for 2 simple meals, <a href="http://www.breadandinkcafe.com/">Bread and Ink Cafe</a> never packed the meals in a bag, or provided us with utensil. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(Maybe the guy got pissed off when he looked at the receipt and saw zero tip, and wanted to make his point- I guess we can help the environment and find friendlier ways on eating the meal, who needs utensil)</span></i>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I tried to avoid looking at my mom's expression because whatever she was feeling, it usually doubles for me. I usually feel like it was my fault that certain things happen, and I just go on a frenzy with my unmanageable anger that can't seem to be expressed properly. We crossed the street to headed back to our car to go home, and after a distance, the bus girl runs after us and said, <b>"Sorry, forgot the chicken"</b> and off she went, back to the last place that ruined our beautiful Saturday afternoon.</div></div>Huynhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02138103634844466077noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388642076094097868.post-45026525065401565172010-05-17T20:27:00.000-07:002010-05-18T20:00:59.191-07:00Might As Well Be Called "Untitled"<div style="text-align: justify;">Late last night as I was putting away my laundry, I had this weird urge to complain. I mean, I do it a lot, and I know it's annoying, especially when I have to sit down and listen to people talk on, and on, and on! Poor Addam. I don't know how or why he can even put up with me for the last 2 1/2 years.<i> </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"><i>(</i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">He says he loves me, and complaining isn't going to be a reason to not love me at all- bless his heart and soul!</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"><i>) </i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The more I think about where all this anger is coming from, I have come up with my own prognosis, I am a rageaholic. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"><i>(Okay, maybe not literally a rageaholic, and Addam is definitely going to correct me on this, but hey, it's the closest thing that's popping up in my head right now. Feel free to correct me, I welcome any interesting word(s) to my complaining-anger issues)</i></span>. For a majority of people who know me, they don't see the complaining, angry side- <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(and if they did, I apologize for being a whiner!)</span></i> I was never allowed to express myself as a child growing up in my household. There's this huge cultural thing in not disrespecting your elders, and superstitions in what to do and what not to do or say, and I can't even list it all because there's this annoying itch that seems to consume me. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I use to keep a diary to write down all my emotions, and events, until people found it and read it. It took me a while to come to trust what I was writing in my new diary. Isn't that what a <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/diary">diary</a> is for? To express yourself by letting loose words, doodles/drawings and random crap 'cause you can in secret? Technically not in my family. We "talk" about it, but the truth of the matter was- "<b>You're a kid, what do you know about being angry?</b>" My answer? <b>*silence*</b>. Don't get me wrong, I <b><i>LOVE</i></b> my parents to death, but there are some things that I wish was done a little differently. Now that I'm much older, I'm allowed <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(on a certain day, a certain amount of parameter)</span></i> to speak my mind on my feelings on certain things. Of course there's never "no strings attached" when I do. So I end up having to be careful with what I say, so I don't wake up any unwanted trouble.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So after all this jibber-jabber, what's my point? As I was mentioning earlier, I was putting away my laundry, and I felt a weird urge to complain, but I was so lazy to even start speaking or write it out to describe it <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(even though I was less than 5 feet away from my computer which was turned on at that time)</span></i>, I decided to bug Addam in creating an online blog for me- which I wanted to do almost a month ago, so I could vent all my useless problems. I figured, "<b><i>If you talk about your problems to 'people', it's healthy on your mental and emotional well-being."</i></b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When he asked me, <b>"What did you want to call it again?"</b>, I said <b>"Life's Not Fair." </b>I always complain by saying life isn't fair, I don't really think it's wise to point fingers at anyone or 'creatures', in fear I'll be beaten to a pulp. And it's more fun to just say life, 'cause it could be anything! Anyways, I wanted it as the title of the URL to this blog, but you know what? IT WAS ALREADY TAKEN!!! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">What ticks me off even more is <b>"<a href="http://lifesnotfair.blogspot.com/">Life's Not Fair</a>" </b>and <b>"<a href="http://lifeisnotfair.blogspot.com/">Life is Not Fair</a>"</b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> (I really don't want to invest in the whole Life Isn't Fair 'cause that's just an overkill)</span></i>, both those blogs haven't been used properly in it's pure sense to complain for the last 6 YEARS!!! Addam tried his best to appease my annoyance by trying every possible combination, but he ended up empty-handed. So what do I do as I'm beginning to shove clothes hangers into the neck of my shirts and slamming it down on my bed? I said in a very flat voice, "<b>Why don't we just call it, Huynh complains?"</b> He typed it in, and WHA-LA! Nobody wants to admits that they complain, it's not a very good thing on anyone's persona. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">But hey, I'm admitting I complain all the time. Sometimes when I don't talk about it, I cry, and it's not a simple tears down the cheeks for 5 minutes, No. I bawl out my eyes, and the next day, it looked as if I got stung by a bee, and had an allergic reaction from it <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(I don't really know if I'm allergic to bee stings- and don't want to test fate)</span></i>. I don't really intend on being conceited in making the whole world know that I, Huynh, likes to complain on her spare time. Maybe on occasions when things aren't going according to plan, things break, people are being idiots, the weather's being a drag, I'm on my period, lack of sleep, my bird won't pay attention to me, I didn't get the type of food I was mentally invisioning, my Sims decided to do things they're not suppose to- you name it! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I welcome feedback, as well as opposer's to my thoughts and feelings.</div>Huynhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02138103634844466077noreply@blogger.com2