Oh, and big news for me: dude, I’m gettin’ a Dell.

After haggling and price-matching and comparing and learning the lingo… I’m finally going to be able to hang up the Gateway that’s served me so well (mostly) for the past 4.5 years and move onto bigger and better things. 80 big fat GB of space, 512 glorious MB of RAM, a CD burner, USB ports… it’s about time.

No more reading a few pages of whatever book I’m into while waiting for Photoshop to render a gradient!

No more saving my work to a ZIP disk, scrounging for room on my hard drive, then transferring my work back to the computer!

No more crashes when I dare to have email AND Freehand AND Photoshop open at the same time!

No more Windows 98!

No more keeping important documents on my hard drive, praying that nothing crashes because I have no method of back-up for personal files! (if you’re a client, don’t worry, I do find other ways to back your stuff up… I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid)

No more waiting for minutes upon minutes for something simple to print or scan or render or load or open or close or run!

So, needless to say, I’m very excited. In all honesty, my design work will probably go about 50% faster now, freeing me to have tighter turn-arounds and more confident quotes for those who need my expertise. The old Gateway was actually a graduation gift from Mom and Dad (and have I really been out of school that long? Sheesh.), but it’s time to play with some fancier toys.

I’m paying for my Dell over the course of a couple months, though, because funds are tight. In order to do this, I took advantage of Dell’s Preferred Financing, in which they run a credit check and ask you a series of strange questions about your life to make sure it’s you:

DELL GUY: Hi, I’m Chuck, and thanks for holding. Is this Jeremy Bear of Long Beach, California?

JER: Yes, it is. Hi, Chuck.

DELL GUY: Hi. Thanks for holding. I’m going to ask you a series of multiple choice questions. Please answer to the best of your ability, okay?

JER: Go ahead.

DELL GUY: Thank you. First of all, which of these streets have you ever made your residence, if any: A) Bronson B) Crocus C) 32nd D) None of the above

JER: Well, I used to live on, uh, B, Crocus.

DELL GUY: Okay! Next, in the past 3 years, which of these cars have you made payments on, if any: A) Nissan Altima B) Honda Civic C) Volkswagen Jetta D) None of the above

JER: The answer’s A, Chuck! Nissan Altima!

DELL GUY: Okay! Next, Please state the address of your last place of residence.

JER: Well, that would be 5669 Cabot Cove Dr. Hilliard, OH.

DELL GUY: Okay! And before that?

JER: Let’s see, I guess that was North Canton. 97 Everhard Rd.

DELL GUY: Okay! Thank you!

JER: You want me to go back farther, Chuck?

DELL GUY: Uh.

JER: 13275 Crocus Ave, Hartville Ohio! Boo-yah! You want more?

DELL GUY: I think that’s all I—

JER: 1707 Park Avenue, Winona Lake, Indiana. Shared a place with Dave Pacheco. Kabam! More?

DELL GUY: Ah…if… you’d like, I suppose.

JER: Okay, that was college: 200 Seminary Drive, Winona Lake, Indiana. Before that, Uniontown, Ohio: 1102 Meandering Creek Street. Then, Marietta, Georgia: 2200 Chimney Springs Drive. Then, of course, Akron, Ohio: 740 Westview Drive. Before that… uh… shoot… starts with a B… ah…

DELL GUY: That’s really more than enough.

JER: No, wait, tip of my tongue…

DELL GUY: No no, you’re approved, thankyouforchoosingDellgoodbye.

*Click*

posted by Jeremy Bear 7:03 PM

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After barking threats and disparaging remarks into the company’s owner’s voicemail, I can happily report that, indeed, we’ve been reimbursed for the cost of our Beetle’s key. We will, however, never do business with those folks again. Onward and upward.
…

Carey and I are always quick to point out to others that we live about 3 blocks away from the beach. “Walking distance,” we say. Well, that’s jim-dandy, but it doesn’t mean a thing unless we take it upon ourselves to actually walk to the beach. So, a couple of nights ago, we did.

I cannot be bothered to lie: Long Beach is far from the most beautiful beach one could hope for. It has an odd smell and it’s far from litter-free. Breakers inhibit the waves that would otherwise thunder into the sand, as they do on other nearby beaches. City lights and heavy industry obscure what would otherwise be a glorious sea sky at night.

But, man, it’s still the beach. And it’s still beautiful.

We’re, at this point, more nervous than ever about our decision about moving out here. The harder we look for steady work, the more elusive that goal becomes. The competition is crazy-fierce. But for one hour at the beach, under the stars, sitting in the sand, watching the brine, listening to the sloosh of the tide… we had to wonder why we’d ever questioned our desire to make a go of the west coast.

It’s not home yet… not really. And we don’t really belong. But, we like it. And it’ll feel like home soon enough.

posted by Jeremy Bear 6:16 PM

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Tuesday, August 13, 2002

Every time I read my email, I'm reminded of the same question from a few different folks: "what the Sam Hill happened to Carey's car?" I always mean to post it here, but for some reason it always slips my noggin when I'm on the Blogger.

Carey's car was its own fiasco. After waiting day after day for our possessions to arrive, we received a call from the car-moving company: "Er. We've, er. We seem to have lost your keys. Which is a problem. We need to change trucks with your car and without the key... eh..." I'll say it's a problem, brother.

Sadly, the keys to Carey's 2000 VW Beetle are not of the standard stickem-in-and-turnem variety. Specially calibrated electronic keys, oh yes. Nothing's ever easy. Fortunately, Carey had the foresight to keep a stickem-in-and-turnem key with her, which she promptly overnighted to the car-moving company... but, alas, we were still out one electronic key.

Eventually the car arrived at about 7:00 one morning. To our bleary-eyed chagrin, little dents were all over it.

DRIVER: Okay, here's your beetle. Sorry about the key thing. Sign here.

CAREY: You are going to replace the key, right? Because, you know...

DRIVER: Sure. We lost it, we're responsible for it. Just go get another key made, pay for it, and we'll reimburse you.

CAREY: What's with all these dents all over the car?

DRIVER: They were already there when you gave it to us. Sign here.

CAREY: No, these certainly weren't here. Look, there's a bad one. There's another. And there. And right there. See? And over here.

DRIVER: No, look here at the pick-up sheet [pulls out sheet with postage-stamp-sized drawing of a generic car, with about 20 hand-drawn arrows pointing to different sides of the car... all so small it could mean... well... anything].

CAREY: Hhh... but I know my car. The dents here and here were already there... all the others are brand new.

DRIVER: Ma'am. We didn't cause them. Our trucks don't cause those kinds of dents. In these cases, it's your word against mine and, let me save you the trouble, they're going to believe me every time. Now, if you don't sign this, I can't release the car to you.

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She signed it.

Upon getting into the actual car, we found greasy smudge-stains all over it, fingerprint-sized. It was really gross. Apparently, Pigpen from The Peanuts Gang had taken our Beetle out for a spin as some point. Grr.

The next day, we went to a VW dealership in north Long Beach who told us, in 20 minute increments, "it'll just be about 5, 10 more minutes". After spending over an hour and a half, our new key was finally made. The old alarm system had to be wiped to accomodate a new key (programmed and laser-cut, apparently), and the whole process ended up costing around $220. For a KEY.

We called them on the cell and they told us, "just pay for it and we'll reimburse you." No, I said. No, I don't want to screw around with that. We'll just have them bill you for it. "No, no," they said, "much less complicated if we can just reimburse you." Not less complicated for us, I said, which is the main point. You people lost our key. We've had to, essentially, fart away 1/2 our day to accomodate this blunder. We're not really concerned with how complicated this gets for you. We've got practically no money in the bank and we're not going to gamble $220 that you'll 'pay us back.'

"Sir, there's really no other way to do it. We can reimburse you TO-DAY. Just fax us the receipt. Really. Today."

"We'll get credited today. This is your word. Today."

"Just fax us the receipt. Absolutely."

That was nearly a week and a half ago. We've yet to be reimbursed.

Clowns.

posted by Jeremy Bear 9:37 AM

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Monday, August 12, 2002

There's a very funny scene in the movie Funny Farm where, upon moving out to the country, Chevy Chase and his wife are forced to deal with an insane mailman, who destroys property, rages down the road at 70 mph, and chucks their mail out the window in the general vicinity of their mailbox. Carey and I have decided that the thing that makes this scene so funny is that it's happening to someone else and not to us.

Until now.

Unfortunately, our mailperson is hellbent on cramming our mail into our little 4" X 8" box, caveman-style, with what seems to be a billy club. Every piece of mail we've received thusfar has been mangled, crammed, crunched, tattered, battered, and nearly unsalvagable. Carey and I are the sort of lazy twerps who will sometimes go several days without checking the mailbox. Not these days, professor. More mail in the box means more two-fisted abuse, so we keep fairly dilligent.

But this begs the question: what does one do with an abusive mailperson? Do we report this to the post office? These people are operating on a hair trigger as it is.

I'm sure this'll all come to an eventual head, but.. who knows how or when.

posted by Jeremy Bear 8:13 PM

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