How to leave a voice mail message.

This blog post is obviously about phone messages. As the person who gets here first every morning, it is my job to check the messages. This morning I had 18 messages. Here's a breakdown:

• 11 were people hanging up after the tone.
• 3 were messages that I was able to understand.
• 1 was so rapid fire and mumbled that I listened to it three times and hoped for the best.
• 2 were only phone numbers shouted into the phone.
• 1 was a person yelling "ARE YOU KIDDING? I THOUGHT THIS WAS A BUSINESS!" into the phone.

It has become blatantly obvious that the majority of people on the planet are not clear on what makes for a successful voicemail message, so I am here to tell you. You could think of me as the voicemail messiah, but I think that might be a little blasphemous, even for me.

Step one: If you are calling you should leave a message.

If you are calling with a question or concern, I WANT to help you. Your question might seem silly to you, but if you need an answer it's not silly. I want every customer to feel confident and comfortable.

Step Two: It's all in the details.

When I call you back, I want to make sure I have your account pulled up and some basic history. It saves everyone time in the long run. At the absolute least, you should leave your name, your phone number, the reason you are calling. This is the best way to make sure I can call you back quickly and get the right person.

Step Three: Keep anonymous comments to yourself.

The voice mail inbox is not the place to anonymously air your grievances. I can't help you because you haven't given me the tools to solve the problem. I can speculate that you are one of the other callers, but I can't make that assumption and address the issue. If you have a problem you want solved, you have to assume that I WANT to solve it and give me the opportunity to do so.

The Rise of Reason:

You might be saying that this is all common sense. I would have to say that I agree with you. I can tell you from experience that most people just don't think these things through. I have people who wait ten seconds and then leave a message. If you know why you are calling you have all the tools you need to make a good message. Here's a good message example:

"Hello. My name is Courtney Schoenfeld. My number is 727-555-1234 and I am calling to ____."

In the blank you should state your purpose.

I am calling to:

• Check on the status of my order.
• Discuss my account with you.
• Ask a question about [a product or service offered by the business you are calling.]
• Clarify something I read on your website.

If you follow these steps to voice mail success I think you will have a lot more of your calls returned and many more of your issues resolved.

Why I am not a mommy blogger and other things of little use.

I have seen a huge influx of Mommy bloggers lately and I am not one of them. I like some of them, like @redneckmommy whose blog nearly kills me with laughter. Others, who shall remain nameless, are complete idiots who make me feel like slapping them.

Aside from the fact that I have never felt compelled to limit myself to mommy or woman blogging, I just don't fit the mold for either of those things. I don't hang out with other mom's and very often I find myself being shunned by the parents at my son's school. It doesn't help that my ex-husband is on the board and his new wife (who I love and am very grateful for) volunteers at the school all the time, while I work 12 hours a day and am not very social at the best of times.

My son's birthday party was last week. It was at a bowling alley because both of my children have developed a bizarre need to bowl and have their birthday parties at bowling alleys this year. The party was good and the kids had a great time, but the mommy's and my son's teacher converged to one table and drank beer while the kids bowled. I hung back with my ex mother in law, a really cool couple and their toddler daughter, and my ex-husband's wife's parents.

These "mommy's" are just bitches. Even his teacher, who was nice to me throughout the year, wouldn't talk to me. I said "Hello" and she said "Hi" and immediately walked away. I'd like to say I don't mind, but I do. I don't mind for my own sake, because I'm used to it at this point, but while my kids don't notice now, I bet they will later. Half of the women have terribly obnoxious children who I want to smack whenever they speak disrespectfully to me. I don't understand this attitude that they have. I know that my kids don't live with me full time or even half time. I'm divorced, that happens. It doesn't make me any less of a caring parent. I don't say all the nice things that these ladies like to hear. I have a brain and nothing in common with them aside from the fact that I have had children. Once we get past the birthing experience, I got nothin'.

I sat there and felt frustrated and out of uniform. The ladies, every one of them, wore capri pants and pastel tank tops with little shoes and wedding rings. I wore my standard jeans and fitted T-shirt and sneakers. I'm perpetually single. I date, of course, but marriage is not happening any time soon and even if it did, I wouldn't be one of these ladies. They are these bizarre kind of Stepford wife clones.

My mother often says, "Why can't you be like other girls?"

Short answer, Because I am not other girls.

I have this crazy thought that my life and the lives of the people who are taking care of them when I'm not will create a balance in the lives of my children. I hope that they see that people are all different and that it's not a totally bad thing.

I hope that the differences in our political and religious beliefs create a balance too. They are what I would consider incredibly right wing conservative. I am not. They consider my WAY liberal. I consider myself a fan of the law and a thoughtful person. I hope that our children are exposed to all of our schools of thought and are able to make an informed and intelligent decision when it comes time to do so.

As far as the other mom's go, I guess I can be happy that I have my youth. I also don't drink or smoke for the most part. I don't have food guilt at all. I don't worry about my weight. I don't cry myself to sleep most nights. I don't have to be anything. The best part about being me is that no matter what I do, no one is going to look any further down on me.

Courtney Visits IKEA or "Oh! I LOVE THAT!"

Last Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny and with a glimmer of glee. It would be my first trip to IKEA. I don't really know if it should be typed Ikea or IKEA, but after my visit IKEA seems to be correct.

We started out with a visit to Starbucks on Gulf to Bay, in Clearwater. My friend was trying to decide if he should join Sam's Club or Costco, so we sat having Mocha Frappythings and trying to determine which club carried the Holy Grail. Uh, Pardon me. I meant we had to figure out which store carried Nestle Quick since that's all he cared about. Costco won the war. We were there. He joined and got his Nestle Quick. We then went on the Costco sample tour which included two B-12 Supplements (1 sublingual tablet and one liquid fizzy drink,) three Acai drinks, several food items, and the worst thing I have EVER tasted, Salad in a cup. (Salad in a cup is actually juiced lettuce.) I was pretty hyped at this point, thanks to over indulging in B-12 and Acai, and suddenly I was in love with EVERYTHING. My poor friend was laughing himself silly. He couldn't take it anymore when I fell for the backyard bridge and was envisioning myself in a backyard production of Romeo and Juliet, so we ventured on.

IKEA is located in Tampa. On the drive over I pondered what it would be like. The general response from people "IKEA... SQUEEEE! YOU WILL LOVE IT!" My friend and I discussed it before we arrived, but he basically said that it was big and that I'd see it when we got there. We pulled into the parking lot. It is so huge that they have parking people to direct you to emptpy spots. We parked near the back, but that's the best place to get the full view. Holy SNAP! This place is BIG.



We walked in. You are asked to not take a cart because you will wander through the showroom first. ALWAYS, follow the arrows. This keeps you safe and not lost. We headed up the escalator and it began. "OH! I LOVE IT!" I said it so much that by the time we left my throat was raw. They have furniture, utensils, storage solutions, dishes, plants, pots, and pretty much every other thing that your little heart could want for your home.

They have bookshelves filled with books. The books are all in a language that I am going to assume is Swedish. I thought they would be fake books, but upon picking one up, I found them to be real (and very funny.)



All of the items have funny names that often have to do with their function or the room they are meant to be in. This one was for a light that went in the bathroom. Way to keep it classy, IKEA. (My kids are gonna love this.)



After you think you just might die from looking at more home items than you ever wanted to look at in your natural life, you stumble into my favorite section of the store. The cafeteria. Yum! I ordered the Swedish Meatballs with mashed potatos and Lingonberries. I drank Lingonberry juice. It was so good. The Lingonberry is everything the cranberry wishes it was. Also, I call it the Klingonberry, because it makes me laugh. The food tasted good, but it was not hot enough. It was barely lukewarm.




Bob had the Lox plate. It looked and tasted wonderful. He's a good guy, he let me taste his food. I would have gotten the lox, but I was starved and it didn't look filling. Paired with the soup and Garlic bread they offer, I bet it would have been just right.



To end our meal we had their chocolate cake. It was highly reccommended by another shopper. We liked it. It was more mocha than sweet chocolate, but it was a good end to a meal. I would have taken a photo of it, but we kind of scarfed it before I had a chance.

After our lunch we went back down the escalator to the self serve portion of the store. At this point it is acceptable to grab a cart and fill it up. I ended up buying a set of little cups, a doormat, a pot for my fully recovered mother's day plant, and an ice cube tray for heart shaped ice (for the kids, I swear!)

I did love it, but IKEA is not a place where you can pop in and out. IKEA is an adventure. You really need to devote several hours to pawing around and figuring out what you want and how things work.

What the effing crap? That angel guy just felt me up.

This made me laugh.

New celebrity crush and what I thought of the Terminator film.

Sam Worthington



Sam was in Terminator Salvation as Marcus Wright.

Reasons I like S.W.

1. He's very very attractive.

2. He has passed the hand test.

3. He can kick major ass.

4. He's not too thin. (Christian Bale needs to eat something.)

5. He has a speaking voice that I like hearing.

6. Lastly, he looks hot in a trench coat.

What did I think about Terminator Salvation?

The first thing impression that I had was that Sammy is the hottest thing on two legs. After I got over that, I kind of felt like TS and it's makers had forgotten what movie they were making. At one point I felt like I was watching Transformers. Don't get me wrong. I loved Transformers, and was super psyched during the previews, but there was so much focus on the machines that it felt strange.

Why might that have been okay? All the other Terminator movies occured prior to Judgement Day. The machines hadn't yet had a chance to fully exhibit their progress, since the only real technology that we had seen previously had been the Terminators themselves.

I did miss the melty metal that had been in some of the previous films. That stuff was seriously bad ass. You're telling me that they have no use for it now? LAME!

I know a lot of folks are saying the film sucked. To be honest, it did not suck. It wasn't the best movie I had ever seen, but I felt like it stayed close enough to it's roots.

It was certainly not the awesome movie that was Star Trek, but they did well.

The ads are getting me down, man.

Yesterday, I was looking at my site with Meg, my best friend. We suddenly noticed the Google ad. Here's how it read:

• 
  Lonely Single Parent?
  Meet Available Single Parents Here. Free to Browse-Become a Member Now!
  

Meg thought this was hysterical. Look, I'm not quite thirty. I'm not married. I have cats. I realize this fulfills a lot of stereotypes. I also have children, which makes me more eligible for the above ad, but I'm certainly not starved for love. I'm not quite a spinster. I have BEEN married. After that very special treat, I'm not exactly jumping to do it again. I suppose dating emotionally unavailable men hasn't helped, but it's something I'm working on.

Statistically speaking men get married much more quickly than women do after a divorce. My husband surely did (to a really wonderful woman.) I'm waiting for the right man, not the right now man.

Is there a point to all this? To be honest, not really. However, Google and people of the world, there really is no reason for all of the sad looks and pity. I'm not dead yet!

Belated Mother's day post

Mother's day is not my favorite day of the year. I actually hate it, for the most part. This year might have changed all that. The week before mother's day I received a potted plant from my mother. It was a Caladium. The cats ate it. They ate it the moment I set it down. I moved the nice pot and the plant to a place where I thought they couldn't get to it. I was wrong. I found the smashed plant on the ground with the nice pot smashed to smithereens. The cats were quite smug. I gathered all that remained of the plant and put it in a tupperware container. I put the plant outside by the front door, breaking one of the lease rules, and hoped my lovely plant would survive. She is doing alright for now.

On Mother's Day, I got a hot cup of nothing. I did get a call from my mother and my son, but nothing else. I called my daughter and she was told to tell me happy mother's day. I was too busy to pout about it.

This past Friday, my son arrives with flowers in hand and a card. I was so blown away by the flowers that I completely failed to look at the card. The flowers were blue. They had to be. My son would have it no other way. My favorite color is blue and therefore nothing else will do. His poor step mother went to 3 different florists looking for something, anything, blue. Not purple. Only true blue would do.

The neglected card sat in my car until this morning. I was waiting for a doctor's appointment and I saw it. I picked it up and knew immediately that I had to share it with you.
The front says "Mom" and has a picture of him and I that he drew.

The second page is entitled "All about mom." Here are some fun facts about me, according to my son.

• 
  "My mom has brown chocolate hair and brown eyes.
• She is 7 feet 85 inches tall.
• I think she is very pretty when she is making me food.
• Her favorite drink is water. (He answered that his step mom's was wine.)
• Sometimes she gets mad when I say "Whatever!"
• But she loves it when I don't say "Whatever!"
• I love my mom because she loves me and my sister so much. I'm her heart.

I'll admit, the last one made me want to cry.

Max then wrote me a poem. I'm sharing it with you.

I am not sure how to feel about it. I feel immensely proud of him, but also like a super villian.

DRINK THE POWER OF LIFE!