Customer Training?

I went to Kinkos today. Oops, I mean “FedEx Kinkos.” I had to fax something, and I can never figure out my fax machine at home. So, off to FedEx I went.



I approached the counter and cleared my throat. The young (as in mid-20s) clerk magically appeared, so I presented my one page fax enthusiastically, thinking he’d be all excited to see it wasn’t a huge print job that involved collating.

Instead, I heard: “Oh no. What you need is right behind you.”

Hmm….Really? I whipped around looking to find that hot young stud with my winning lottery ticket. Instead, I stared down a fax machine on the other side of the store. It didn’t look happy to see me.

Could someone please tell me when and why every single thing is self service nowadays? Where oh where have all the friendly greeters gone? I just wanted to run in and out of there, get my fax faxed, and get on with my day.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not lazy, and sometimes I actually prefer self service. But what I prefer even more is having a choice.

So, I huff and puff my way over to the angry machine, knowing that this was going to turn into an ordeal. And I also noticed that Joe Kinko was following sheepishly behind, as I'm sure he could tell I was less than thrilled.

First, he said I needed to insert my card. I thought he meant my FedEx Kinkos Business Account card which he encouraged me to sign up for during my last not-so-short visit to FEK. After digging through every nook and cranny of my wallet, I finally find it. Swipe it. And naturally, it's no go.

Oh, he meant my credit card. I guess customer service reps don't even have to ring you up anymore.

So I find that, swipe that, and then dial the fax number. This is the point when he chimes in that I’m one of the few customers who knows to dial a one. Hmmmmm, I think to myself, I guess those customers must need some customer service.

We wait for a good three minutes while he goes on to explain that this fax machine is a weird one, it doesn’t make any noise whatsoever and that silence confuses all of his customers. Hmmmmm, I think to myself again. He then reads a message on the machine that my fax apparently didn’t go through.

Surprise. Surprise.

“It’s probably just busy, try again.” I oblige and listen to him go on about how faxing to law firms usually doesn’t work on the weekends b/c they turn their machines off. One, I’m not faxing to a lawyer. Two, can we listen to the mute fax machine please?

My patience is really starting to wane now that I'm going on about 12 minutes in the FEK store. Under my breath, I blurt, “For crying out loud, why does something so easy have to be so hard? I just wanted you to fax my fax.”

“It’s called customer training,” he says.

Are you kidding me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

“I don’t need customer training. You need customer service.”

I’ve always hated fax machines. And I still do.

Especially ones that require "customer training" to function properly.

The 24 Hour Cycle: "Doom and Gloom" to "Hip Hip Hooray"

Ahhh...the thrill of entrepreneurism.  It's just like a roller coaster ride.  It can be so fun, so scary and sometimes it just makes you sick to your stomach.

I have to keep reminding myself that these extreme emotional cycles are all part of the game.  A game I chose to play.

This past Saturday morning, I awoke with cold sweats.  Partly because I have been working 'round the clock and felt a flu coming on that could have easily been averted with a day watching old movies in bed. 

Honestly, though, this episode of cold sweats was due mostly in part to that old dreaded word: FEAR.

I've learned a few things this past year, especially regarding money.  I've learned that you can easily (and I do mean easily) go through a nest egg in the blink of an eye.  I'm not talking about $5000 or even $25,000.  I'm talking a great deal more...that nest egg you've been saving diligently for the past 15 years, grinding away in corporate America.  You know, that nest egg that was meant to fund your mid-life crisis dream. 

Needless to say, I ate the egg.  It was a quick and tasty meal. 

But I have to admit, after woofing it down, I have indigestion.  Yep, this indigestion is reminding me that no matter how much you think you need, it's never enough.  And my food hangover is leading me to have the dreaded "what ifs."

What if I'm just a fool?  What if I had been more diligent with that business plan to start, saving me from walking down a few of those dead-end paths? What if I had not rented that incredibly expensive, "SOHO meets the mountains" loft in Basalt for two years, when a room without a view would have sufficed?  What if I had kept working a bit longer in corporate America?  What if I married a sugar daddy?

But then, I prayed.  And although the what-ifs didn't disappear, they did miraculously change.

What if all the incredibly synchronistic, glorious things that happen daily (and I mean daily) are little sparkling gems lighting my way?  What if I needed to walk down a dead end path or two to gain the experience about what doesn't work so that I can recognize what does?  What if my nest egg provided just enough nourishment to help me get creative, while being the perfect amount to keep me hungry enough so I don't get lazy and rest on my laurels?  What if I trust and surrender and know that I am OK today as I will be tomorrow.  I will be just fine.

What if I focus on all the good instead?

• I had my first "hirer" testimonial come through this week.
• I have been told repeatedly by locals that my ads are working, my marketing is working and they see HireMeAspen whever they go.
• I have started receiving referrals.
• I have started partnering with some incredible people and organizations.
• I am happy.

It's all starting to come together.  Last night while attending a BBQ at this most incredible estate, a friend pulled me aside.  This, by the way, is the same wonderful friend who I shunned six weeks ago when she tried to offer friendly advice. (I wrote about that less-than-my-best encounter here.) 

Last night, I am proud to report,  I was in a better place.  I listened and learned.  I told her about my "cold sweats" and she patiently and kindly reminded me of all the progress I've been making (and it's only been 6 weeks). 

It's hard to see the big picture when you're in the thick of things.  But, she's right.  So far, I have made a great deal of progress.  I am actually kind of proud of it.

Hip Hip Hooray!

RERO or REDRUM?

Now that I'm familiar with the lingo, I'm all for RERO.

RERO stands for "Release Early; Release Often."  But this whole RERO idea is starting to make me crazy with anticipation. Mad with anxiety. Wild with desire...for perfection.  RERO is starting to remind me of REDRUM because it's beginning to feel a bit like MURDER.

When playing this internet game, you can't afford to wait for perfection to occur.  Instead, you crank out lots of ideas, implement a few, hope for the best, then start all over again.

It's exhilerating.  It's exhausting.   

It's amazing how fast this game is.  I can't catch my breath for even a second before POOF...it's time to change direction again.  You know the things you need to stay on top of, but there's never enough hours in the day.  For example, you know you need to monitor the competition, but who has time?  You're tired, so you settle for just trying to stay in the game.  Forget about getting ahead of the pack!

At some level, you sense the competition is just as exhausted, overwhelmed and blurry-eyed as you.  You sense that those "Jacks-of-all-trades" are saying REDRUM too.

This panic-driven, always looking over your shoulder, lifestyle is unsustainable. 

I feel comforted when reminded of the story of the tortoise and the hare.  Can the tortoise win at this game....really?  I don't think so.  But I do think there's a happy medium, a mixed breed of sorts.

A "Hare-y Turtle," if you will.

I'm envisioning a rabbit with a tortoise shell on it's back, hopping awkwardly along, side-stepping dangerous land mines to avoid blow ups, and periodically leaping towards the elusive finish line.  You not only need speed in this internet competition.  You need protection from all those dangerous, flying ideas that take you off track and jeopardize the race.

Actually, can it really be a race if the finish line doesn't exist?   I'm not sure.  But I do know that whether I win or lose, I tried. 

I entered the race.  So in all reality, I win.