Author: fkbowman

01/01/2014

A case study in how to not sell a PC

Yay! I’m finally getting a new PC. My current one is over 5 years old. Boo! PC shopping is torture.

I waited until after Christmas to shop because there was too much going on for me to settle down and do the research for a gift for myself.

Yesterday morning my PC was so slow that I decided there was no better time to pick out a machine.

I’d never shopped at Micro Center and I have no desire to put my own machine together but a few people had recommended them and my schedule was open. After looking at their website, I decided on their G412 and saw that the local store had one in stock. Score! I planned on zipping down there, asking a few questions, and walking out with my new toy. I was damn near giddy at the thought. I had visions of re-organzing my zillions of photos and finally having a machine that would run the current version of Photoshop without upchucking or making my blood pressure rise. Yes, these are things that I find exciting. I embrace my inner nerd.

Anyway, I nearly skip into the store with a copy of the computer’s specs in my hand. I find a salesperson who said that machine was overkill for what I wanted. “It’s for high end gaming or 3D graphics. We may be able to build a machine that is a little cheaper and better suited for you.” Ok, whatever, let’s go.

Hah! You mean I have to pick out everything including the case (“This one looks really nice because it has a display window and lots of mesh.” It’s going to sit on the floor and end up covered in dust and dog fur, I’m pretty sure that window doesn’t help me.) and the power supply to which I said “I drive a minivan, I can assure you that I have absolutely no opinion on a power supply. Which one would you sell your mother?” I don’t understand why people find car engines appealing to look at, I don’t need a window to watch the dust collect inside my PC, and I just want a freaking computer! (Note: I will not by a Mac, never remotely considered it, and I don’t drink the Apple Kool Aid.)

After over an hour and a half, I’m wishing I had packed a lunch because I was feeling weak from either low blood sugar or a severe case of “broken give-a-damn.” We finally have a list of all the components totaling a hundred dollars or so more than the machine I came in for and a cart full of boxes and we proceed to customer service where I have to wait in line for 15 minutes with everyone who’s making Christmas returns because there’s only one person working in the department. By this point, I’m scanning the store looking for someone, anyone, who might be a manager who can help and seriously considering calling them on my cell phone while I’m still in line.

When it is finally my turn, I have to unload all of this crap onto a counter that’s too small. There’s no checkout-line efficiency like the clerk being able to come over and scan the items in my basket. And then the total doesn’t match the amount on my itemized sheet! The clerk just kind of looks at me like “And your point is?” I tell her that I’m about to walk out of the store empty handed so she begrudgingly starts to look for the discrepancy. It turns out that the cost for the operating system wasn’t included in the itemized list to the tune of another $130. Homey don’t play that so I tell her “I’m done. You can keep all of this,” and walk away. I wouldn’t trust these people to put together a set of Legos let alone an appliance I’ll live with for the next 4-5 years.

Before I left I located the manager to let him know just how miserable my experience was and that the inefficiencies of their operation cost him a sale. I tried not to be rude but the gist of it was “I walked in here ready to happily spend $1400 on a PC. Instead, I’ve wasted two hours of my life and this company has never and will never get a penny from me.” I don’t think any employee did something wrong but they did a lousy job of managing my expectations.In case you’re too young to know the origins of “Homey don’t play that”–

12/02/2013

Celebrating a Good Ol’ Boy with Some Good Ol’ Rock n Roll

I discovered hair bands as their heyday was drawing to a close. The new music that replaced it on the radio featured mumbled lyrics and, when I could understand a phrase or two, the songs either made no sense or made me want to slit my wrists. Geesh, life can be cruel enough, I didn’t need a funereal soundtrack. It was then that I switched to talk radio.

Whether you like my taste in music or not, I’m a loyal fan–so much so that I have a “hair bands” playlist on my iPod and it’s my go to when mowing the grass. The neighbors should be grateful the mower drowns out my singing…or at least I hope it does. And when I listen to those songs at work I have to remind myself that my cube mates probably don’t want to hear me.

My high school friends introduced me to Child’s Play as we spent our Saturday nights waiting to see their “Rat Race” video on MTV’s Headbangers’ Ball and I tagged along to see them play at Network. Since we were all under 21, an all ages show was a rare treat.

I saw them a few more times at Hammerjacks and at the Bayou in DC but then I lost track.

Fast Forward–2011

I heard about a Child’s Play reunion at Rams Head Live and decided I had to be there. I brought along a girlfriend who had no idea who Child’s Play was but she was up for the adventure.

As show time approached and I pushed closer to the stage, she hung back on the edges of the crowd. Before we got separated, I turned around to warn her that I may burst into tears but not to worry.

The show was better than I imagined. They sounded like they’d never stopped playing together and I was so tickled to have been there. I held at hope that this wouldn’t be the last time I’d see them.

Unfortunately, Brian Jack, their lead singer, passed away that April.

Fast Forward–2013

John Allen posts an announcement on Facebook about an upcoming Charm City Devils’ show featuring a tribute to Brian Jack. But it was scheduled for the night before Thanksgiving and we always host family dinner.

Hmm–decisions, decisions–on the Thursday before the show I decide that I have to go. Sleep be damned. Luckily our family is pretty laid back about holiday meals and would understand if Thanksgiving was less than perfect.

I’m so glad I went. During the Charm City Devils set I sent my friend a text that said “Wish I could bottle this feeling!”

Honestly, my expectations for the Brian Jack set were out of whack because I didn’t do my homework before the show. Since my connection with Child’s Play happened with their Rat Race album, I suppose I was just expecting to hear those songs and Brian Jack’s Hard Goodbye. I wasn’t prepared for the the AC/DC covers and older Child’s Play songs but the band sounded great and everyone on stage and off enjoyed it.

We also had the opportunity to hear Mitch Allan make up his own lyrics on the fly for “Day After Night.” The crowd happily helped him out.

Rather than a tear filled evening, the event was a celebration of Brian Jack and Child’s Play. Truly Good Ol’ Boys playing Good Ol’ Rock n Roll.

So glad I took the time to see @CharmCityDevils @baltimoresoundstage #killingit
— Frances Bowman (@fbowman) November 28, 2013

10/29/2013

Bittersweet soccer mom bliss

Have you ever had a moment where you suddenly stop and realize you’re in a state of complete contentment? For me, it didn’t happen at some exotic locale, in fact, maybe it’s more meaningful because it happened in my daily life.

I had my most recent moment of bliss on a soccer field–our son wasn’t playing because he got hurt in the previous day’s game, the sky was cloudy and dreary as fall settled in, and our team was losing.

But late in the second half, as I watched one of our players continue to put everything he had in the game, I had a moment of clarity. I realized that there was no other place I would’ve rather been than right there. Surrounded by the parents who have become friends as we’ve watched our boys play together every week for years.

But it was also bittersweet. The season is winding down. Our boys are getting older. They’ll be graduating and moving on. The crazy schedules we’ve kept for so long will soon be less hectic or at least different. And I try to burn these moments into my memory.

09/09/2012

Scrapbook: Two Boys & Their Bobby DaBonte Jackets

Dover, DE—May 2003—Mom & I took the boys to Dover for the Friday race festivities—practice for Saturday & Sunday races & maybe a truck race. It might’ve even been a year that rain prevented much activity on the track that day. The boys never cared; shopping at the haulers was always the highlight of their trips.

We looked at every trailer—the only thing Connor wanted was a Bobby Labonte race jacket that cost $80! And $80 meant $80 times two because Jarrett would want to have one too. I’m not sure what Connor bought that day but it wasn’t that jacket.

The next day was our annual trip to the race with Dad. It was a longer day so the boys stayed home. While we walked around the track, Dad kept egging me on to buy two of those jackets. I told him that there was no way he would’ve ever done that when we were kids & he said that I was right—he wouldn’t have. That would’ve meant $80 times three!

When a friend headed to the Richmond race in the fall, I asked her to keep an eye out for a sale. She came home with two jackets for $40 each!

The boys were thrilled! Those jackets were huge on them but, as you can see, they got plenty of wear.
Connor never explained why he wanted that particular jacket. He was a Tony Stewart fan, probably because of all the time he spent at Home Depot with his dad. But, once he got his jacket, Bobby “DaBonte” was his driver.

Boys grow up & no matter how many sizes too big you buy their jackets, they soon out grow them.
After three years or so with us—a time that included trips to DisneyWorld & pumpkin patches, & even a fateful trip to Lowe’s on New Year’s Day 2004 when Connor knocked out his tooth & bled on the front of his—we donated those jackets & hope they brought some other boys just as many happy memories.

09/02/2012

State of Musical Confusion

Lilo & Stitch Breakfast at Polynesian Resort
DisneyWorld 2007

When J is in the mood to shoot rapid fire questions, there’s no telling what he’s going to ask.

He had that urge last night as I drove him to a sleepover.

When we got into the van, I turned off my book on CD and “When Smokey Sings” by ABC is playing on the ’80’s station..

“Is this Rush?” he asks. In a fluke of iTunes, my copy of a Rush greatest hits CD had ended up on his iPod too; I ended up with his Skrillex on mine.

“Huh?!?” He can’t possibly think this is Rush.

“Is Rush singing this song?”

“Um, no. This is ABC.”

“Is Michael Jackson the rock king?”

“Do you mean the King of Pop?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure he was.”

“Then who’s the queen of rock?”

Frantically searching my memory banks, wondering where the hell that question came from.

“I’m not really sure. Maybe someone like Lita Ford?”

At the same time I’m thinking Joan Jett, Pat Benatar…

Silence from the back seat.

“When I think of Elvis, I think of Hawaiian shirts.”

Why would he think of Elvis?

“You know the characters Stitch and, I don’t know…Lola?”

“Do you mean Lilo?” Did he forget about the Lilo and Stitch character breakfast we had at Walt Disney World?

“Yeah. There’s a picture of Stitch with giant round ears and Lilo has the side of her head shaved like Skrillex.”

What am I supposed to say to that?

I swear he gives me mental whiplash sometimes.

08/20/2012

One man’s diffusion is another man’s…

Now they’re not only smarter than me but they’re taller too!

I stood in the kitchen with both boys talking about nothing in particular.

J, 13, asks out of the blue when we can buy his “Roxio thing.” This was the first time I was hearing about this “thing” and had no idea what he was talking about. We had recently been talking about him downloading free software to use for video editing but there had been no discussion of buying any “thing.”

Confused. I asked him to explain.

In the tone of a typical teen exasperated by the denseness of his parents, he proceeds to tell me that the cord was broken on his current Roxio.

“I didn’t know the cord was broken. How was I supposed to know…osmosis?”

His 15 year old brother looks at me quizzically and asks, “Osmosis?”

“Yeah moving through the air from his brain to mine.”

He looks at me and says flatly,”That’s diffusion.”

08/19/2012

Never thought I’d be here–thoughts on my first Ravens game

I was fortunate enough to be given two tickets to Friday night’s Baltimore Ravens pre-season game.

As it turned out, Steve wasn’t up to taking Connor to the game and I wasn’t going to waste the tickets so it became “Frannie Goes to the Football Game.” I’ve never been to a football game, I swore I’d never go to a football game, and I don’t “get” the sport but I decided it would be an adventure.

Here are some random thoughts:

Having never been to a game before, when I walked into the stadium my first thought was “Wow, it looks just like the scene from The Dark Knight Rises.” Well, without the field caving in and the teams getting sucked into the hole.
Isn’t there supposed to be more catching in this game?
Why is there so much standing around? (According to this article, the officials weren’t at the top of their game.)
Every time a flag was announced (and that was a lot), I heard the lyrics to a Rick Springfield song in my head. “Touchdown, turn around, flag on the play.” Not joking
With the amount of force these players put into the game, it’s amazing that more players aren’t seriously hurt. Not sure if that’s a testament to the human body or to their physical conditioning. Either way, when a player runs down the field at top speed and another player takes his legs out from under him, how does this not result in a separated shoulder or worse?
Football fans must have a lot more patience than I do. The concession lines could not have moved any slower and going to the ladies’ room was completely out of the question.

The view from our seats at M&T Bank Stadium

08/07/2012

So many books, so little time

Today I took the boys to work with their writing tutor at the Elkton library. The new Perryville library is beautiful but you can’t beat the variety of the Elkton branch. The abundance actually made me a little crazy.

While I was there, in just a matter of minutes, I selected and checked out:

The CD book of Steve Jobs’ biography by Walter Isaacson (20 CDs–24+ hours of listening)

I’m not a huge fan of Apple or Jobs and I’ve forbidden the purchase of Macs for our house but I’m sure I can learn something valuable in this biography.

The CD book of Explosive Eighteen by Janet Evanovich (only 5 CDs)

My guilty pleasure

A real book by Anne Tyler, Noah’s Compass

I’ve read her books since they were recommended by my high school English teachers.

All are due back 8/28/12–yikes!

And I purchased three books by John Katz for $1 each:

Training and Living with Dogs
Running to the Mountain
A Dog Year

I’ve read (or listened to, I can’t remember) one of his books and I’ve heard him interviewed by Diane Rehm several times so I’m sure it’s $3 well spent. Besides, we have two dogs who could use some training.

I really shouldn’t be allowed to wander unescorted into a library.

My girl Molly, at 10 she’s not too interested in being trained.

Kolby, at almost 2, there’s still a chance to train him.

04/23/2012

Golf Canvas–Another birthday gift

I was really happy with this canvas…until I used liquid glue to adhere the golf ball die cut. What looks like a blue smear near the base of the T is actually the blue patterned paper bleeding through. I’m hoping it disappears when the glue dries completely.

04/14/2012

April 13, 2012–I find a Rick Springfield lyric for every occasion

Despite a restless night’s sleep, I jumped out of bed and hit the ground running this morning. I was determined to get as many details of J’s birthday party taken care of today as I could so that tomorrow wouldn’t be such a mad dash to the finish. Collage finished, check; photo chosen for cake, check; laundry going, check; boys and husband out of house, check–well, you get the idea.

All the while, I was listening to my ipod and, instead of listening to podcasts as I tend to do, my 80’s playlist was the soundtrack as I worked. Janet and Michael Jackson, Wham!, Hall and Oates, and, of course, Rick Springfield. I was cleaning but having a pretty good time. By 9 AM, I was pleased with my progress.

And then Rick Springfield’s “My Father’s Chair” popped up on my ipod and my cheery mood was crushed.

Rick Springfield performed “My Father’s Chair”
during his acoustic sets in Hershey (1/25/13) and
Atlantic City (1/26/13) and I only cried the first night.

April 14 was my dad’s birthday and it’s one of those days you dread after someone close to you dies. One of those dates that looms on the calendar like a storm cloud on the horizon. So when Rick’s song about the death of his father started playing, I lost it. I started crying so hard I scared the puppy (but he’s afraid of a lot of things).

Now I’ve probably heard that song and its predecessor, “April 24, 1981” hundreds of times and I’ve seen Rick perform them in concert several times without much of an emotional reaction but this time it was different. The tears snuck up on me, and for a few minutes, they wouldn’t stop. All the while the poor scared dog kept peeking at me trying to figure out what my problem was.

In the eight years since my dad died I’ve learned that when the calendar does turn to one of those days I dread, it’s pretty anti-climactic. I make a mental note of the date, think about the boys’ milestones that he’s missed, and then, inevitability, I think of lyrics to another Rick Springfield song–“Something sweet had come and gone for everyone.” And then the day goes on like any other.

Yeah, I’m going to have to remove that song from my “80’s” playlist.