As I recall, while my family was laughing at my frustration with the phone service's attempt to voice-recognitionally discern my problem (yes, it was with my phone. All calls including the one for help were being obscured by a loud hum on the line.) they were also screaming PHONE PHONE PHONE.
When I borrowed my daughter's phone to try to get the situation fixed, the phone rep was helpful in that s/he scheduled a visit from a technician, eventually; however, in order to be able to schedule that visit, the script from which all customer service and tech support people everywhere work demanded that they call me at another number, my cell phone number. I explained that I don't have a cell phone.
The rep wanted to transfer me after we set up the service appointment to their wireless phone department.
I cannot understand why they think I would buy a cell phone from them when I'm unhappy with the sound quality of my landline. This must be the result of giving personhood to corporations. In the fantasy dream world inhabited by CEOs, the fact that I didn't immediately cancel my service means that I'm a happy customer and constitutes an open invitation to them to try to sell me stuff.
Dear Mrs./Mr./Dr./Reverend PhoneCompany and OtherCompanies:
I don't want you to sell me stuff when the crap I'm already paying you for is not working properly.
Sincerely,
Me
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Why I Love CART and Captioning and Deplore Speech Recognition Software which is supposedly going to make the former obsolete.
Speech recognition "fun."
Phone company customer service recording: If you are calling about your phone service, say "Phone."
Me: Phone.
Pccsr: I'm sorry. I didn't get that.
Me: Phone. Phone.
Pccsr: I'm sorry I didn't get that.
Me: PHONE PHONE PHONE PHONE PHONE PHONE.
Pccsr: I'm sorry I still didn't get that. Please try your call again later.
Me: [expletive deleted while family is helpfully falling about in background]
Saturday, January 29, 2011
more on I Write Like and some E. R. Eddison
I ran some of my post on the folly of Qwest online chat "help" through the text analyzer at IWL (http://iwl.me/) and it decided that I wrote that like Cory Doctorow. Nothing wrong with that, but I don't see it.
E. R. Eddison "really did write Elizabethan prose in the 1930s" (according to Ursula Leguin in her essay "From Elfland to Poughkeepsie," so I put a random paragraph from The Worm Ouroboros into the analyzer and it promptly concluded that he writes like H. G. Wells. Okay, well the software did roughly place him in period with his contemporaries, somehow perhaps recognizing the basic rhythms and vocabulary of the early 1900s. So I put a larger sample in and it changed its mind and said he writes like James Joyce. Again, it identified the period, but when I put a long sample in which he really pulled out all the stops (I'll quote it at the end of this post. It's majestic and evocative and lovely and as Leguin says, "His style is totally artificial, but it is never faked.") and I Write Like analyzed it as William Shakespeare.
I suppose what I was really trying to get a feel for was what the "I Write Like" folks are using to compare writing styles -- I gather vocabulary and sentence construction figure into it in some way, but I suspect it would take a linguist to identify and place all the pieces. Obviously my experiment with Eddison left me more puzzled than ever, but now I get to quote this striding, marvelous passage.
In that instant came a sound of music playing, but of what instruments they might not guess. Great thundering chords began it, like trumpets calling to battle, first high, then low, then shuddering down to silence; then that great call again, sounding defiance. Then the keys took new voices, groping in darkness, rising to passionate lament, hovering and dying away on the wind, until nought remained but a roll as of muffled thunder, long, low, quiet, but menacing ill. And now out of the darkness of that induction burst a mighty form, three ponderous blows, as of breakers that plunge and strike on a desolate shore; a pause; those blows again; a grinding pause; a rushing of wings as of Furies steaming up from the pit; another flight of them dreadful in its deliberation; then a wild rush upward and a swooping again; confusion of hell, ranging serpents blazing through night sky. Then on a sudden out of a distant key, a sweet melody, long-drawn and clear, like a blaze of low sun shine piercing the dust-clouds above a battle-field. This was but an interlude to the terror of the great main theme that came in tumultuous strides up again from the deeps, storming to a grand climacteric of fury and passing away into silence. Now came a majestic figure, stately and calm, born of that terror, leading to it again: battlings of these themes in many keys, and at last the great triple blow, thundering in new strength, crushing all joy and sweetness as with a mace of iron, battering the roots of life into a general ruin. But even in the main stride of its outrage and terror, that great power seemed to shrivel. The thunder-blasts crashed weaklier, the harsh blows rattled awry, and the vast frame of conquest and destroying violence sank down panting, tottered and rumbled ingloriously into silence.
Like men held in a trance those lords of Demonland listened to the last echoes of the great sad chord where that music had breathed out its heart, as if the very heart of wrath were broken. But this was not the end. Cold and serene as some chaste virgin vowed to the Gods, with clear eyes which see nought below high heaven, a quiet melody rose from that grave of terror. Weak it seemed at first, a little thing after that cataclysm; a little thing, like spring's first bud peeping after the blasting reign of cold and ice. Yet it walked undismayed, gathering as it went beauty and power. And on a sudden the folding doors swung open, shedding a flood of radiance down the stairs.
E. R. Eddison "really did write Elizabethan prose in the 1930s" (according to Ursula Leguin in her essay "From Elfland to Poughkeepsie," so I put a random paragraph from The Worm Ouroboros into the analyzer and it promptly concluded that he writes like H. G. Wells. Okay, well the software did roughly place him in period with his contemporaries, somehow perhaps recognizing the basic rhythms and vocabulary of the early 1900s. So I put a larger sample in and it changed its mind and said he writes like James Joyce. Again, it identified the period, but when I put a long sample in which he really pulled out all the stops (I'll quote it at the end of this post. It's majestic and evocative and lovely and as Leguin says, "His style is totally artificial, but it is never faked.") and I Write Like analyzed it as William Shakespeare.
I suppose what I was really trying to get a feel for was what the "I Write Like" folks are using to compare writing styles -- I gather vocabulary and sentence construction figure into it in some way, but I suspect it would take a linguist to identify and place all the pieces. Obviously my experiment with Eddison left me more puzzled than ever, but now I get to quote this striding, marvelous passage.
In that instant came a sound of music playing, but of what instruments they might not guess. Great thundering chords began it, like trumpets calling to battle, first high, then low, then shuddering down to silence; then that great call again, sounding defiance. Then the keys took new voices, groping in darkness, rising to passionate lament, hovering and dying away on the wind, until nought remained but a roll as of muffled thunder, long, low, quiet, but menacing ill. And now out of the darkness of that induction burst a mighty form, three ponderous blows, as of breakers that plunge and strike on a desolate shore; a pause; those blows again; a grinding pause; a rushing of wings as of Furies steaming up from the pit; another flight of them dreadful in its deliberation; then a wild rush upward and a swooping again; confusion of hell, ranging serpents blazing through night sky. Then on a sudden out of a distant key, a sweet melody, long-drawn and clear, like a blaze of low sun shine piercing the dust-clouds above a battle-field. This was but an interlude to the terror of the great main theme that came in tumultuous strides up again from the deeps, storming to a grand climacteric of fury and passing away into silence. Now came a majestic figure, stately and calm, born of that terror, leading to it again: battlings of these themes in many keys, and at last the great triple blow, thundering in new strength, crushing all joy and sweetness as with a mace of iron, battering the roots of life into a general ruin. But even in the main stride of its outrage and terror, that great power seemed to shrivel. The thunder-blasts crashed weaklier, the harsh blows rattled awry, and the vast frame of conquest and destroying violence sank down panting, tottered and rumbled ingloriously into silence.
Like men held in a trance those lords of Demonland listened to the last echoes of the great sad chord where that music had breathed out its heart, as if the very heart of wrath were broken. But this was not the end. Cold and serene as some chaste virgin vowed to the Gods, with clear eyes which see nought below high heaven, a quiet melody rose from that grave of terror. Weak it seemed at first, a little thing after that cataclysm; a little thing, like spring's first bud peeping after the blasting reign of cold and ice. Yet it walked undismayed, gathering as it went beauty and power. And on a sudden the folding doors swung open, shedding a flood of radiance down the stairs.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Why One Might Want a Backup to VoIP Phone Service
Yesterday, the power company installed a new meter, which entailed a 5-second power outage. When the power came back, my VoIP phone service was out. I unplugged the VoIP modem and left it off for 2 minutes and then plugged it in again, but that failed to solve the problem. Now, my only telephone is this VoIP line provided by my local telecommunications giant. I still had Internet access, so I went to the LTG's website for help -- whenever you call any of their support phone numbers, they always make you sit there and listen to the suggestion that you can also get help all your problems can be solved by logging on to the Giant's Website!
I like my VoIP service. It's cheaper than maintaining a land line. The sound quality is good. And the VoIP support department is excellent. The fly in the ointment is getting to tech support when your phone is not working. I do not have a cell phone. Even if I had a cell phone, they charge you minutes whenever you have to call tech support for another company, and why should I have to use my phone when it's not working?
The LTG has not noticed or doesn't want to admit that its help chat "Need Help? Click for online chat" function is more of a sales thing than an actual support. Here is my chat transcript when I attempted to make contact with them to get help with my VoIP modem.
I like my VoIP service. It's cheaper than maintaining a land line. The sound quality is good. And the VoIP support department is excellent. The fly in the ointment is getting to tech support when your phone is not working. I do not have a cell phone. Even if I had a cell phone, they charge you minutes whenever you have to call tech support for another company, and why should I have to use my phone when it's not working?
The LTG has not noticed or doesn't want to admit that its help chat "Need Help? Click for online chat" function is more of a sales thing than an actual support. Here is my chat transcript when I attempted to make contact with them to get help with my VoIP modem.
:Thank you for using NNNNN.com. A NNNNN Sales and Service Consultant will be with you in just a moment. Your account information is confidential and protected by law. Advise our agent if you prefer that we don't use it to market bundled services. This has no effect on the service or offers we provide for you.
:Thank you for contacting NNNNN. My name is [I’ve Changed the Name of the Rep to] Binky (Binky’s NNNNN employee number). How may I help you today?
Me: My NNNNN VoIP phone is not working.
Binky (Binky’s NNNNN employee number): I will be happy to assist you.
Binky (Binky’s NNNNN employee number): For more information or to order NNNNN Broadband Phone Service, please call 1-866-283-0043.
Binky (Binky’s NNNNN employee number): You would want to call this number.
Me: How can I phone them when I have no phone?
[waiting...]
Me: My VoIP phone service from NNNNN is not working.
[a considerable wait]
Binky (Binky’s NNNNN employee number): I'm sorry for the delay. I'll be right with you.
Binky (Binky’s NNNNN employee number): I am sorry.
Me: :)
Binky (Binky’s NNNNN employee number): Is there anything else that I can help you with today?
Me: Can you help me with my problem with my nonworking VoIP service?
[LONNNNNG WAIT ENSUED]
Binky (Binky’s NNNNN employee number): No, I am sorry.
Me: So how do I get help when the problem I'm contacting NNNNN about is that my VOIP Phone service is not working and I don't have a telephone?
Me: Perhaps I could shout really loudly? [I know, I'm a horrible person.]
Binky (Binky’s NNNNN employee number): I am sorry.
Me: I've always been convinced that these chat windows are "manned" by Artificial Intelligence instead of a real person. I am going to save this chat as further evidence in support of my hypothesis.
Me: So you have nothing to suggest?
Binky (Binky’s NNNNN employee number): No, Our group do not have anything to do with the Voip. I am sorry.
Me: So when I needed help and saw the “Need Help? Click Here for online chat” box, I should have taken that with a grain of salt. Or perhaps this is a new use of the word help with which I am unfamiliar.
At any rate, it turned out that my modem wasn't burnt out; it was merely sleeping or unconscious or recalcitrant. The next morning I unplugged the FIOS modem and the VoIP modem for a good long time-out, and when I plugged them back in I had phone service. Not sure what I'll do if the VoIP modem actually does buy the farm, but I won't be using the "Need Help? Click here" box.
Friday, October 22, 2010
iwl.me
I write (emails) like H. P. Lovecraft. Proof: http://iwl.me/s/147eabd8
I write dream journal entries like David Foster Wallace. I write fiction like H. P. Lovecraft. Or so says iwl.me, a site that allows you to paste a whole bunch of your written work, hit the "Analyze" button and presto voila! it comes back with an author you supposedly write like. I'm wondering if H. P. Lovecraft is the answer you get when the text analyzer software just gives up because you don't write like anyone.
Anyway, I saw someone refer to this on 4chan, and I amused myself with it for a good 15 minutes.
iwl.me
I write dream journal entries like David Foster Wallace. I write fiction like H. P. Lovecraft. Or so says iwl.me, a site that allows you to paste a whole bunch of your written work, hit the "Analyze" button and presto voila! it comes back with an author you supposedly write like. I'm wondering if H. P. Lovecraft is the answer you get when the text analyzer software just gives up because you don't write like anyone.
Anyway, I saw someone refer to this on 4chan, and I amused myself with it for a good 15 minutes.
iwl.me
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Diana's organic rap video
I love this video - it's an info-rap-mercial for an organic body products store. I'm not affiliated with this place; I'm just disgusted with how the "organic" designation has been coopted by big biz. Get 'em, Diana!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
We've lost ground
I'm watching a program on PBS (it's 9:00PM here by the way) called "Make 'Em Laugh," a documentary on comedy. They showed George Carlin doing his "classic" routine, "Seven Words You Can't Say on Television." They bleeped him. Public Fucking Television bleeped his mortifying ass.
We've lost ground; America is backing up. This is not where I imagined, in the 60s, I'd be at the age of 57. This isn't the America I wanted. We've backed up. We're cringing behind some wall, afraid to speak the truth. The truth always offends somebody, so I guess we're all going to smile and lie our asses off.
We've lost ground; America is backing up. This is not where I imagined, in the 60s, I'd be at the age of 57. This isn't the America I wanted. We've backed up. We're cringing behind some wall, afraid to speak the truth. The truth always offends somebody, so I guess we're all going to smile and lie our asses off.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
I’m the mother of a court reporting school graduate in Phoenix Arizona. I would not recommend that anyone you care for embark on a career in court reporting here in Arizona. Pharmacy or nursing or veterinary school are much better alternatives, because these fields appear actually to want new people, whereas the requirements to get into court reporting here are so stringent that they have successfully kept anyone at all from entering the field for the past year. The powers that be have put into place professional entrance requirements that are positively hostile to newcomers. Of course, they say they want and need new court reporters, but their actions belie this, and in fact, even before the gates closed completely over the past year, only one or two people have been admitted annually in the past five years. And the people they are keeping out have all completed their schooling and are ready to work. They have student loans that they are required to start paying off, and the profession will not let them work. Unfriendly. You don’t want this for anyone you’re not actually mad at.
And anyway, who wants to waste what may very well be four or five or more years of schooling on a profession that doesn’t want you? And, (I’m not making this up) when newcomers who have completed school and who have been practicing rigorously for the exam complain about this draconian system, working court reporters, the ranks of whom these folks are, god help them, trying to join, often respond by belittling them. “Well, you are just lazy. You must not have been practicing. I passed the test, so there is not a problem.” (And it’s surprising how many people say this who have not, in fact, passed the test, but who were grandfathered in. As I said, welcoming newcomers is not a big strong point with many of these folks.) My daughter started school in 2000, and she is still trying to pass their exam. You’re not, by the way, allowed to put your training to work in Arizona at all until after you have passed the test. There’s no such thing as a paid internship, or any sort of grace period for newcomers. You don’t pass the frigging test, you don’t work. Prospective candidates had better have a regular job, because they most likely won’t be working in this one.
Oh yes, the test is offered twice a year. You get five minutes each to demonstrate that you can take down literary material, a judge’s statement to the jury, and courtroom testimony. You get one take of each of these every six months, for which you pay a hundred bucks or more. My daughter’s taken the thing eight times now, and there is so much riding on this fifteen minutes of dictation that she’s now so wound up that I don’t know how she can possibly pass the damn thing at this point. And she’s not the only person like this. Did I mention that not a single person has passed the frigging test in the past year? There are many graduates of the only court reporting program now operating here in Phoenix who have completely abandoned the field.
So don’t send anyone you love to court reporting school here now. If my daughter had started pharmacy school in 2000, she’d be a pharmacist with a couple of years of work under her belt. Send ‘em to pharmacy school. Recent Arizona pharmacy graduates pass those exams every year. According to the AZPharmacy.gov 2008 annual report, 272 people were issued new licenses as a result of passing the exam in 2008. So, for 2008, pharmacists, 272; court reporters, 0. The numbers speak for themselves.
And anyway, who wants to waste what may very well be four or five or more years of schooling on a profession that doesn’t want you? And, (I’m not making this up) when newcomers who have completed school and who have been practicing rigorously for the exam complain about this draconian system, working court reporters, the ranks of whom these folks are, god help them, trying to join, often respond by belittling them. “Well, you are just lazy. You must not have been practicing. I passed the test, so there is not a problem.” (And it’s surprising how many people say this who have not, in fact, passed the test, but who were grandfathered in. As I said, welcoming newcomers is not a big strong point with many of these folks.) My daughter started school in 2000, and she is still trying to pass their exam. You’re not, by the way, allowed to put your training to work in Arizona at all until after you have passed the test. There’s no such thing as a paid internship, or any sort of grace period for newcomers. You don’t pass the frigging test, you don’t work. Prospective candidates had better have a regular job, because they most likely won’t be working in this one.
Oh yes, the test is offered twice a year. You get five minutes each to demonstrate that you can take down literary material, a judge’s statement to the jury, and courtroom testimony. You get one take of each of these every six months, for which you pay a hundred bucks or more. My daughter’s taken the thing eight times now, and there is so much riding on this fifteen minutes of dictation that she’s now so wound up that I don’t know how she can possibly pass the damn thing at this point. And she’s not the only person like this. Did I mention that not a single person has passed the frigging test in the past year? There are many graduates of the only court reporting program now operating here in Phoenix who have completely abandoned the field.
So don’t send anyone you love to court reporting school here now. If my daughter had started pharmacy school in 2000, she’d be a pharmacist with a couple of years of work under her belt. Send ‘em to pharmacy school. Recent Arizona pharmacy graduates pass those exams every year. According to the AZPharmacy.gov 2008 annual report, 272 people were issued new licenses as a result of passing the exam in 2008. So, for 2008, pharmacists, 272; court reporters, 0. The numbers speak for themselves.
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