Dear YRC:

1. It's not much of a re-fax if I never got the paperwork the first time.
2. It's not much of a second re-fax if I never got the first re-fax.
3. When I tell you that the invoice doesn't match the Bill of Lading, and that I kind of need the correct invoice for the Bill of Lading in question?

The solution is not to re-fax the second re-fax of nonexistent re-fax of the hypothetical initial fax, which has paperwork I can't use.

Or, to quote his scientistness, Albert Einstein, "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

I get enough crazy from my co-workers, kthnx.

P.S. You know your handy fax confirmation sheet? It proves you faxed someone paperwork with a coversheet with my company's name on it... Unfortunately, it doesn't show what number the paperwork was faxed to, and as such is worthless for proof of having sent it here. I'm so sorry to burst your "BUT I SENT IT, DO IT NOW, YOU JERKS" bubble.

Current Mood: boggled

Not that this comes as a surprise to anyone who knows me, I suppose.   I am moderately unfond of typing on the iPhone.

Seriously, I manage to get packed and out to the taxi, but can I merely take advantage of the seriously awesome driver?  (He went on break just to keep me from waiting for about 20 minutes in the cold.  So darn nice!) I cleverly managed to leave my purse (not my carry on) in the taxi.  Brian,the driver, met the airporter shuttle at the airport when I called him.  So if you're ever using yellow taxi in Bellingham, you should request him, he's really nice.

Geez, can't we be farther than Lake Samish?  I'm getting a bit motion sick.  Just so you all know, Enya is totally a bad way to try to stay awake.  Typing out an email on the iPhone is working much better for that.  The seats kind of help, too, because they are nowhere near as comfy as they look.

Anyhoo, I'll add to this later, when the status bar of my handy phone (which just gave me a random spelling suggestion of hantavirus 0.o;) tells me I have network connectvity.

Actually, I'm going to go with random updates, or at least try to.  I'm at Sea-Tac now.  It can come as no surprise that people are... special.  Really, really special.  When I checked my luggage, the folks ahead of me had apparently paid no attention to the 'Thine checked baggage shall be less than or equal to 50 lbs, else we shall fine you $50'. They were trying to pull 2 lbs out of their checked bags when I was allowed to go through a different lane.

At the TSA security checkpoint, the clever souls ahead of me had:

1. A can of V8

2. Two items, liquid or gel, over 3 oz, never mind being confined to the silly little bag you have to have.  The gentleman of the pair looked quite put out about surrendering whatever it was.

3.  Pudding cups.  Seriously.  Apparently TSA chick was choosing to interpret 3 oz rather liberally, felt sorry for them, or quite seriously doesn't understand the difference between fluid and dry ounces.  I'd have to double check physically, but those pudding cups looked like they were about a half cup each.  That they probably weighed less than 3 oz doesn't surprise me at all.

One has to wonder if they looked into the changes in air travel at all.

Current Mood: groggy

Poll #1465753 On the nature of diagnosing mental illness or problems
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 4

Should General Practitioners, in the absense of a psychologist, be allowed to diagnose depression?

Should General Practitioners, in the absense of a psychologist, be allowed to diagnose PTSD?

Should an employer, on the basis of a General Practioner's diagnosis of PTSD and/or Depression be barred from requesting a second opinion before being forced to grant leave under FMLA?

Current Mood: complacent

You do not get to determine whether or not your shipment requires EPA forms.

The law gets to determine whether or not it needs EPA forms.

Us? We get to determine whether the law applies and spare you and your driver a great deal of pain and anguish when Customs decides to enforce the law.

KissKiss!

*laughing in hysterical disbelief*
--Me

P.S. Just because another office failed to ensure you had the EPA form doesn't mean that you weren't violating the law when you crossed without them. Yes, pretty much any time that you don't have one for a giant-ass engine, you are wrong if you don't have one. Seriously.

*hoping the random number generator bites you on the ass*
--Me, again


Dear Much Cleverer Person:

You know, the fact that your usual supplier has gotten themselves on the "Banned for being Dumbasses" list with Customs, your thought about choosing to find another supplier? TOTALLY a good idea. As much as I'd prefer to guarantee that your shipments come through my port, I have got to applaud the application of critical thinking. We don't see *nearly* enough of that in this buisness.

*feeling the urge to hug you, because sensible people are hard to find*
--Me

Current Mood: amused

OMG, what?

If I, for some strange reason, wanted to touch a baby (not happening, I'm terrified of dropping one on the head and they're not all that interesting before they can talk) I personally would ask first, but...

Strangers want to touch babies because they are small, round and lovely.

Babies are the human equivalent of an ice cream cone and I, for one, frequently want to lick the tops of their little heads...

What is that? Aside from terrifying, that is.

*stares in horror*

Of the things that I've heard for why an entry has to be exported directly back to Canada, the winner is (and probably will always be):

"My driver's license has been revoked in California."

How that guy got a job driving a truck... well, it's a mystery.


But today's entry for "Oooookay, what?" for reasons to direct export goods:

"I forgot that I had CDs on my truck, not bathroom tissue."

Ranks pretty highly, too.


Seriously. They forgot that they hadn't stopped to pick up the right load. I mean, I've found myself on the way home before realizing I meant to stop at the grocery store, and all, but... if I forget, maybe I have to scrounge for dinner. As the driver of a commercial vehicle, you're more likely to get Customs to seize the goods on your vehicle, order a body cavity search, and possibly arrest/fine you for smuggling. I could be wrong, but that's a consequense I'd really rather avoid.

Current Mood: amused

But as a reminder to all, this hot summer:

If you have *any* kind of pool in your back yard, please remember to watch your young 'uns. Today, one of my co-worker's nieces, aged just shy of 2 years, managed to get into one of those smallish backyard pools, the kind that're maybe 4 feet or so deep.

Unfortunately, no one realized she was missing until too late.

Current Mood: kind of sad

Poll #1438006 Okay... what? *boggles*
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 7

Shirtless males driving cars... distressing enough to call a radio station to call it gross, y/n?

Current Mood: boggled

I kept telling my boss that, well, there was no way any halfway decent programming team (or, even grotesquely incompetent one, actually) would develop Program X in such a way that one cannot fix data entry errors -- it's illogical to assume that any given human is going to get hundreds (or thousands, for that matter, given that I've done just shy of 900 over three invoices) of lines correct every single time.

Thank you, anonymous programming people, for providing a way for me to fix my one line in 1000! Now, if y'all had just provided, oh, I dunno, a help screen (or five), or possibly intuitive delete commands, it would have been fab. Still! Now I can FIX STUFF!

*happy dances*

Seriously, there's nothing quite like looking at 2.5 hours of work and being under the impression that you've got to do it again because 8668 and 8688 look a lot alike when one is tired and is on line 425 of 427.

if you've only heard a handful of complaints about the heat.

IT WAS 99 degrees Farenheit and nearly 60% humidity at my house when I left for work. I skipped my training walk today because I'd rather not be dead of heat stroke.

*calmly chokes the radio to death, please ignore the maniacal laughter*

Current Mood: appalled

or is the concept of it raining men actually kind of disturbing?

*stares at radio, vaguely horrified*

I hear this song once in a while and it's like... but wouldn't a guy dropping from the upper atmosphere be, well:
a) dead?
b) going very, very fast?
c) likely to make me dead, too, if he hit me?
d) and if he's not already dead, won't the sudden, sharp stop at the end of the fall kill him anyway? Or, at least make him really, really unhappy/uninclined towards teh_smexx0rs?
e) all of the above?

Srsly, "I'm going outside to get myself wet"?

In what? Blood? Viscera?

*shudders*

And if the men falling out of the sky aren't going really fast and likely to be dead that means they're in parachutes and lots of men in parachutes usually means paratroopers and that's just never a good sign. Paratroopers dropping in for teh_smexx0ring is just a bad situation all around, IMO.

Current Mood: perplexed and kinda horrified

In a current discussion of whether or not a woman should be willing to take money from her porn-star sister for the education of her children (me--yes, duh) it comes about that various members of the comm that's discussing it believe that the woman has no right to refuse the money.

Now, I'm of the opinion that anyone who puts 25K in trust for a child's education (or, in this case, 3 children's) should pretty much be thanked (unless they're, oh, an assassin, or they got it by defrauding a pension plan, or otherwise stole it, in which case I can totally see the moral quandry.)

But it really bugs me: These people are saying she hasn't got the right to say no. That she hasn't got the right to "deprive" her kids. To "prevent" them from going to college.

1. Seriously, if you're determined to do it, you'll be able to go. You may have a few gazillion dollars of debt when you come out the far end and maybe you didn't go to Harvey Mudd Harvard, but you'll be able to go.

2. Not allowed to deprive? So, if I told my theoretical kid they couldn't have the cookies their aunt brought, I'm in the wrong? What if the cookies contain something that the kid is allergic to? Parents say no to things all the time, they "deprive" their children of all manner of things -- from food to philosophy -- constantly. How, exactly, is saying no to a college fund started with "immoral" money all that different?

But vasaris you can't possibly be conflating college funds with cookies?

Why not? Neither college nor a cookie is a right. Maybe the cookie isn't poisonous. Maybe the money isn't stained by unseemly fluids. But, if I was a parent, wouldn't it be up to me to decide?

It doesn't matter that I think that the woman saying "Um, you earned that money on your back, I can't take it" is bogus. I'm not teaching those kids my morals. She's teaching them hers. As such, she has the right to control the "cookie" that she thinks is contaminated by things detrimental to her children.

Thoughts? Feelings? vasaris, you're full of bunk?

Current Mood: puzzled

This is moderately terrifying.

...sprinkler+sunshine (at the right angle)=rainbow.

Seriously, the math there is easy. o.0;

Hmmm. There's a post that showed up in childfree and then on cf_debate

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )

PLZ 2 B ! TAKING WIERD CRAP FROM TEH "WAT TEH SITH IS DIS?!?!?!?!" BIN.

OR, IF U MUZT HAZ TEH WIERD CRAP, PLZ 2 B KEEPIN' IT 2 YERSELVZEZ.

--Me, who iz tired of the daily entries for the "WTF? SRSLY, WTF?!" contest currently being held by our clients, the carriers, and our colleagues in other offices.

Exhibit A:
Weird fax, but! w/ contact info.
"Dude, WTF?"
"I just want confirmation you got it!"
"...okay?"
FAXEZ confirmation, cuz we gotz it, even though we has no idea what is 4.
Week passes.
"WHY U NOT CLEAR GUDS?"
"WHERE DEY CROSS?"
"I DON'T KNOW!"
"WHERE SCN?"
"I DON'T KNOW! FIX IT! FIX IT! NOW! NOW!"
"... ... ..."
*emails contact at probable carrier*
*goods are at airport, in Toledo, which is notably not a Truck Crossing in WA, ID, ND, or MT*

Cannot fix. Haz not teh training to fix. Unnerstanding of Air/Ocean is akin to unnerstanding of Internal Combustion Engine -- teh teory iz fine, but workings uf pertikular devize? iz completely lacking.

*trows up teh_fuzzy_dragon_claws and returns 2 werking hours 2 be accounted 4 in teh next pay period. May post ofthr exhibits l8rs.*

Me has gotz I's letter frum Customs.

Now iz just annuder month 4 teh application 4 teh license, complete wif de insturctions.

Go mez!

Best fic line ever, (next to the sealy posturpedic mattress that is a car seat):

It was quite scenic and tranquil, a lush and tree draped vista

Next time I go on vacation, I'm totally looking for a location that has been covered by drunks and poplars.

(Okay, it's not actually completely wrong, but I'm pretty sure the author was going more for a "lush, tree-draped vista" not a bunch of tatty guys drinking Mad Dog 40-40)

I can haz my offcialzes results, kthnxs?

-- Me

In general terms, provided I didn't do anything radically stupid while filling out the bubbles on my answer sheet (like, say, getting off a line, but I'm pretty sure I would have noticed if I had) I passed the Customs Broker Licensing Exam.

Still, there's something sad about thinking "God, I suck for attaining a measly 83.75%" Seriously, I thought attending HMC was enough to cure me of that kind of nonsense.

Ooooohm, I am not my grades, especially as all I have to do is pass... ooooohm.

Then again, in an environment where most everyone is probably smarter than you, it's easier to accept when you suck at everysomething.

Dear Harvey Mudd, you were supposed to cure me of the "I has brain, see me roar," too. Of course, six years as a cashier at a gas station will give *anyone* a superiority complex...

"Sir, it says 'press the cash button to turn on the pump' right here. Until you do, I can't turn your pump on."

"No, ma'am, the yellow sleeve blocking your attempt to use Pump 7 says 'Out of Service' not 'Here to keep the nozzle warm and comfy for your fingers.' The pump is broken, not heated."

"I'm sorry, have you mistaken me for someone who cares if you get your drunk on tonight? No ID, no beer."

"Strangely 'The power is out' does, indeed, translate to 'no, you can't pump your gas right now.' Even if the pumps didn't need the electricity, I can't actually use the till or give you change at the moment."

"Hon, next time you want to buy cigarettes for a half dozen of your underage friends, you might try not asking for four different types of cigarettes in a random assortment of light, ultralight, menthol and/or non-filtered. It also helps if you don't have a written list and buddies hanging out right outside the door."

"Your total is $10.66. Hey, that sounds like a good year to invade England if you're French!.... what do you mean, what do I mean?"

"No, Coworker D, Normandy is not in Iceland... and Venice != Venezuela. How did we get on this topic again?"

"Lady, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you ask your daughter what the Crusades were. No, don't ask me to settle your bet about it, I'll be forced to hurt you. Or run away screaming in terror."

"I can't come out and fix the pump, sir, it's not broken. We're out of gas. What do you mean, you thought that I could make an exception for you? Even if I could magic gas into the tank, why would I do it for someone I've never seen before?"

"Actually, no, your BMW and 3 piece suit do not entitle you to thirteen percent off your pack of gum. Give me the 15 cents you're short for $1.15 or GTFO of my store. Oh, you're never coming back to a place where the cashiers are rude enough to make you pay full price..?" *door swishes shut* "I wonder if he realizes that flouncing out works so much better with petticoats and doors you can actually slam?"

Current Mood: cheerful

Okdie-dokie pokies.

The instructions were pretty easy:
1. Go to Broker X and pick up stuff to take to Customs. Take it to Customs and get it signed off. Return to Broker X and give them the paperwork.

2. Be sure to get a copy for yourself while you're at it.

3. Fax your paperwork to Broker Y to set up your entry for Canadian customs.

4. Go through Canadian Customs.


I'm not sure where this became:

1. Go to broker X and pick up stuff for US Customs. Take it to US Customs and get it signed off. Return to Broker X and give them the paperwork.

2. Be sure to get a copy for yourself while you're at it.

3. Go to broker Z because you do not have an entry for Canadian Customs.

4. Give Broker Z your paperwork.

5. Have broker Z read your instructions, fail to comprehend that you are going back to Canada and call Broker X.

6. Have Broker Z continuously fail to understand "Is this the one with the cancelled bond? Yes/No? Is he coming south or going north? No, really, is this the driver I saw a couple of hours ago? Does he have paperwork A? Yes, I understand that Brokerage X is on there. We've done our part. No, we don't do northbound clearances in this office. Wait. What? No, what? Seriously, what direction is he going? He does have paperwork A. Yes? But you think he's going south, or something. Ma'am, please ask the driver which direction he's going. Seriously, why would he lie about which country he's trying to enter? Okay, hold on. I'll call our Canadian office. Give me your number."

7. Have Broker X go grab the faxed paperwork from earlier. Have Broker X read the instruction block that says "Fax your paperwork to Broker Y, 3 hours in advance, to 555-555-5555."

8. Broker X will proceed to boggle, frequently and with much confoozlation, because:

9. Broker X will call broker Z to make certain queries.

"Do you have these instructions?"/"Yes."

Small moue-frownyface.


"You see the part about faxing 555-555-5555."/"Oh, you did notice that."

Slightly raised eyebrows.


"You see the part above it about getting the paperwork?"/"Huh. You saw that, too."

Scrunched eyebrows. Smushed-wrinklenose. Pursed lipses of doomses.


"You weren't figure out who to call/fax because you're unsure if he knows which side of the border he's on, ore even which direction he's going. Because drivers are generally that clueless. Really. They rarely know where they're going. It's much more efficient that way."

Fingertips/bridge-of-nose OTP! Palms/Eyelids are, liek, BF forevar!!!


"Okie-dokie! So, you think maybe you should call/fax broker Y? Funny, I think that, too. I'm glad you found me helpful. Buh-bye."

Head/desk cagematch! Who will come out alive?!


10. And, also, what? 'Cause Broker X is not sure if ceiling cat is Laughing or licking his Holy Postierior and Furry Genetalia in our general direction (never forgetting the distributive property of "Holy" over conjunctions.)

I probably sounded like a raging dumbass, too, because I kept going "The dude with the TIB. The one I sent to customs. He's got the cancelled TIB, right? We're talking about the same dude, yes? Srsly, just to be sure, he's got the cancelled TIB, right? That's all we were supposed to do. No, really, that's it. Seriously, I have no idea what he needs to enter Canada. No, I really don't. I dont' do northbound brokerage. No. Seriously, I have no idea. What do you mean you think he's headed south? Does he have the cancelled paperwork or what? Which way does *he* think he's going. No, really, which way does he say he's going? But you think he's lying stupid confused and is supposed to be going into the US. But he has this cancelled US Customs paperwork and says he's heading north... Wait, haven't we had this conversation?"

Current Mood: amused

And Nice People who Wrote the Good Study Guide...

The answer that Customs has for problem 65 on the April 2005 is wrong.

In fact, all the possible answers are wrong.

They are not wrong, O Nice People who Wrote the Good Study Guide, because the goods qualify for the US-Jordan Free Trade Agreement (although I think you're right that they do, and as such should have been duty free). No, they are wrong for one simple thing.

1000 gallons of juice. 250 gallons damaged and refused.

750 gallons imported.

Tariff Rate: 7.4 cents per liter. I'm sure we all appreciate the difference between liters and gallons, yes? That 1000 gallons equals 3785.4 liters... so 750 gallons would be 2839.05 liters?

You can not achieve any of the following totals with 2839 liters of juice @ 7.4 cents/liter.

A. $76.10
B. $75.10
C. $93.10
D. $29.10
E. $51.10

Period.

Frankly, even assuming y'all were calculating on gallons I can't figure out how Customs achieved $51.10 as being correct. I've checked the arcived versions of the tariff schedule to be sure I'm not missing something important (like a massive change in tariff rate). So... not getting it.

I dun get it. Srsly.