MyCouponsBlog

Wheel Of Fortune!

mycoupons — Fri, 13 Apr 2007 06:30:25 -0400

It’s funny how people can react so differently to the same exact situation.

On one side of the spectrum, you have calm, cool and collected people who assess a situation, develop a solution and jump into action.

Then you have me.

I do not deal with adverse situations or emergencies with any sort of decorum or calmness.

Quite the contrary.

If one of my children falls, I immediately run for the phone to call 911. I never actually dial, but it is my first instinct. I have been branded by my family as “Worst Case Scenario’ a trait I inherited from my mother.

I not only assume the worst is going to happen in any given situation, but once faced with a situation occurring I freeze like a deer in the headlights.

Case in point- My family was gathered around my brother’s dining room table, eating a lavish meal in celebration of my father’s 60^th birthday.

My mother asked my brother to please pass her a napkin, which he attempted to do. On the napkin’s voyage across the table, it came in contact with the flame from a candle on the table, and went up in flames. My brother threw the napkin, and it landed on his cloth covered dining room chair.

What happened next took place in a matter of seconds, although it felt like everything unfolded in slow motion.

Every single person at the table reacted in some way.

And none in the same way.

My brother, Mr. Calm immediately ran to fetch a fire extinguisher.

My father, Mr. Over-reactor, threw a glass of red wine towards the fire, totally missing the flames, but managing to add a nice stain to the carpet and nearby chairs.

My niece, Ms. Oblivious, kept eating her steak.

My mother, Mrs. Freak-out, started yelling for someone to call 911.

My grandmother, Mrs. Checked out of reality in the late eighties, kept talking about her optometrist and his dog.

Then there was me. I froze. All I could do was act as the informer of the group.

I sat, watching the flames, and was able to do only one thing.

Repeat the word “Fire” over and over again.

To hear my brother tell it, I sounded like Butthead from Bevis & Butthead.

Once the flames were extinguished and the damage controlled, we were all able to laugh about it, but I still wonder to this day WHY I froze.

Scientists tell us that as humans we have a ‘Fight or flight’ reflex. When faced with an adrenaline pumping situation, we make an unconscious choice to either deal with the issue or run away.

My husband set off the alarm to our house a few weeks ago. It was close to 1am. I was blissfully asleep, and he was taking the garbage to the curb. He forgot he had set the alarm already and opened the door.

The piercing wail of the siren scared me out of bed, naked as the day I was born. In my half-asleep state, I was unsure what was happening, but I knew I was scared.

Seeing the open front door, I went running. Straight onto the front porch, while my husband was in the laundry room disabling the alarm.

Once the cool night air hit my exposed skin, I became aware of my surroundings and realized I was standing naked on the porch. My husband came running to me, and asked what I was doing.

All I could answer was “Alarm! Woo-Woo, Alarm! Woo-Woo.”

I guess they need to name a new reflex after me.

The ‘Sit with mouth agape and babble like Rain man’ reflex.

Until we meet again,

Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

It's better to have loved and lost....

mycoupons — Fri, 06 Apr 2007 06:27:03 -0400

It used to be that February was my favorite month of the year.

Girls in green vests knocking at my door, offering up their goods were a welcome site.

I had it down to a perfect science. Three boxes of Thin Mints, four Caramel deLites, three Short Bread and some Peanut Butter Patties thrown in for good measure.

The recipe for a year long supply of Girl Scout cookies was born.

Come delivery day, which was always around Valentines Day, (Coincidence? I think not!) the first box of Thin Mints wouldn’t see the light of day. I would devour the entire box in minutes.

The rest of the cookies would go to the freezer. Safe and secure, suspended in animation until my next binge would call.

Life was good. I had a stockpile of cookies.

Then, in late February of this year, there was a knock at my door. It was the neighbor’s kid. She was selling cookies for her band. Did I want to buy some?

Feeling like I was committing adultery, I browsed her catalog of Otis Spunkmeyer cookies.

Knowing my freezer was overflowing with the goodness that is Girl Scout cookies, I decided to buy one box.

She’s my neighbor’s kid. She has an older brother who likes to Tee-Pee trees. I figured buying a $12 box of cookies from his kid sister would spare me and my trees the shame of being covered in Charmin.

She delivered the cookies yesterday. A big tub, containing three pounds of frozen, uncooked, pre-formed triple chocolate cookies.

Pre-heat the oven, place the cookies on a baking sheet, bake for 16 minutes and voila! Instant cookie.

I made a batch last night.

I am standing here before you to tell you that these cookies are the nectar of the God’s!

Moist, yet crunchy on the edges. Sweet, yet not too sweet. Each bite was like a piece of heaven.

I saw the neighbor’s kid today, I motioned for her to come over. When she did, I asked if she could get her hands on any more of the stuff. She could see my trembling hands, and the hunger in my eyes.

She was sad to report that the fundraising was over. There would be no more cookies until next year.

Broken and depressed, I went inside and ate a box of Caramel deLites.

They were ok.

But, they weren’t Otis.

I have now known true love. I will never be the same.

I will be tying a yellow ribbon around my trees this week, and they will remain until Otis and I meet again.

Of course, those trees will probably be Tee-Peed soon.

Until we meet again,

Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

Come fly with me

mycoupons — Fri, 30 Mar 2007 06:30:00 -0400

A world class jet-setter, I am not. I fly, on average three times a year. I never go to exotic destinations like London or Cape Town.

Nope. I go to Philadelphia, Denver, and Las Vegas.

On planes, like all other aspects of my life, I always get the shaft. I inevitably sit next to the smelliest, gassiest, largest person on the plane.

So, when I read of Rachel Collier being kicked off of a Continental Airline flight for COUGHING, I was a bit ticked.

What I wouldn’t give to sit next to someone that was coughing.

A cough, even a dry, hacking, put a pillow over her face cough has to be better than what I have experienced while suspended thirty-five thousand feet over our great country.

In 2000, my husband and I took a red-eye to Los Angeles. Of course, I was not seated next to my husband. I was 9 rows behind him. He fell asleep before take off.

I, on the other hand was seated next to Don Juan himself. He started with small talk, I explained I was on my honeymoon. He then told me his life story. By the time we were somewhere over Arizona, he had had too much drink and was crying like a baby. He then asked if I was a member of the ‘club.’ (The mile high one) When I told him no, he inquired if I wanted to become one.

Believe it or not, that was mild considering what I have experienced while in the friendly skies. I have been vomited on, cried upon, and once spent six grueling hours sitting at the gate in Philadelphia while the plane was de-iced. They wouldn’t let us get off the plane, heck, they wouldn’t even let us stand up.

That is truly the closest I have ever come to going completely and totally shitzo. And to add insult to injury, I was sitting next to a woman who was experiencing minor gastrointestinal distress. She made no excuses, or even attempts to mask her malady. She did, however, apologize.

At least I had that going for me.

But of all flying stories I have, by far the one that goes down in history is the time I was en route to Las Vegas. The weather was horrible, the turbulence was abundant, and I was sitting next to a man who was convinced we were going down.

To ease his fear, he drank himself into a comfortably numb state. I was relieved when he fell asleep, even though his head was on my shoulder. I was reading my book when he woke up, turned to me and said “Are we in Denver yet?”

Confused, I explained we were not going to Denver, we were going to Las Vegas.

He laughed at me and said “Funny.”

It hit me that he was not only extremely drunk, but very confused.

He fell back asleep and when we touched down, I stood up to get my bag from the overhead bin. He was still fast asleep and snoring. As I exited the plane, I told the flight attendant that the guy in row 12, seat B was still sleeping.

She glanced back at him, then said “Oh, that’s one of our Captain’s. He just got off an international flight and we are giving him a ride back home.”

Nice.

Needless to say, every single time I board a plane now, I look at the Captain.

If I ever see Captain Morgan sitting at the controls, I am going to stage the biggest coughing fit I can muster.

Until we meet again,

Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

Ode to my mother

mycoupons — Fri, 23 Mar 2007 06:30:02 -0400

I remember standing in the kitchen when I was six, the smell of Nestle Tollhouse cookies filling the air. I was licking a spoon covered in cookie batter. (We weren’t afraid of salmonella back then!) My mother was standing over the sink, washing dishes by hand. She was wearing a beige apron covered in yellow flowers, and had her long brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail. I remember thinking she was the most beautiful, smartest person I would ever know.

Then I turned into a teenager. My mother suddenly became covered in warts, and lost her brains. She didn’t know anything, was totally un-cool and everything she said was meant to annoy me.

Her unfortunate turn lasted well into my teenage years and my twenties. Somehow, miraculously, once I turned thirty- she became beautiful and intelligent again.

I am penning this article late on Thursday night, as my mother’s suitcase is packed by my front door. She has been visiting me this week, and is leaving in the morning to go home.

Having my mother visit is like having Mary Poppins and Nanny McPhee here for a week. Somehow when she leaves, my children are better behaved, my house is cleaner, my refrigerator is full, my closet is updated and my Tupperware is all straight.

My mother can make my children do things that the world’s top child behavior specialists could never dream of.

Last week my daughter would gag at the thought of eating the crust of the bread. I would spend time carefully ripping the crust off of bread before serving her. God forbid I missed a quarter of an inch of toast, and my daughter would boycott all forms of carbohydrates for a week.

Mom arrived on Monday, and by Tuesday breakfast, Lauren was happily crunching away on her crusts. Lauren asked me this morning if she could have extra crust on her bread!

We have been out for lunch everyday this week, and my son has sat quietly and happily through every meal. Usually taking my almost two year old to a restaurant is only possible if the establishment offers paper hats or singing rodents. Somehow with my mom here, my son has turned into a perfect dining companion.

My bath mats are turned sideways, my toilet paper is folded under not over, there are no dishes in the sink, and no laundry piled on the floor of the laundry room.

My patio is clean, my burned out light bulbs are changed, my toilet seat is tightened, and both of my children have new window treatments.

My seven year old dishes and silverware have been replaced with brand new sets. My linen closet has been organized and rotated. I have a brand new fire engine red vacuum cleaner in my closet that actually works.

A mere five years ago, I would count down the minutes until my mother would be leaving- we had a forty-eight hour rule. A mere minute over spending forty-eight hours together, and the bickering would begin. Bickering would turn into fighting, and fighting would turn into crying and yelling. Now I am counting the minutes until she comes for her next visit.

While she will always be my mother, she has become my best friend and confidante.

Funny how life comes full circle- my mother is once again the most beautiful, smartest woman I know.

If you will please excuse me, I am going to go spend the last couple of hours before her flight telling her so.

Call your mother!

Until we meet again,

Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

Idiot Phone

mycoupons — Fri, 09 Mar 2007 06:30:27 -0500

I'm going to have to kill him. It's the only thing that will make me feel better.

He is a child in a man's body.

He is my husband.

I have coined a new phrase for anytime someone does something stupid- 'Pulling a Joey'

Example: Did you see that guy trying to get the ball off the roof by throwing a BROOM at it? Instead of knocking the ball down, the broom went right through the living room window! He pulled a Joey!

Wanna know what he did now? He lost his cell phone.

AGAIN.

For the third time since January 1st.

Want to know HOW I know it's the third time? Because our cell phone insurance only covers TWO claims per calendar year, and we have already used them both.

Here it is the 67th day of the year, and he is working his way towards phone number FOUR.

But,the karma Gods were looking kindly upon me this week.

I found the phone today. Wanna know where?

Nope! Not in the freezer, or the pool, or the car.

It was in the very last place I would expect it to be!

Minneapolis, Minnesota!!

Minnesota, you say? How did it get there when you and Mr. Forgetful live in Florida?

Well, you see, every once in a blue moon I trust Joey to do something. It's always something small. Never anything that can possibly cause him or others bodily harm, and especially never anything that has to do with money. Just small, little tasks that make him feel important.

About three weeks ago, I sold a $10 item on eBay.

"Joey, we are out of packing tape, will you please take this box to work, and seal it up? It's already paid for, just tape and drop in the mailbox."

Seems simple, right?

Not so much.

If I had a monkey and a bunch of bananas, I could have trained him to follow those directions. Monkeys learn quickly.

Evidently having a Master's degree puts you one step below monkey.

Joey forgot.The box sat in his car for a week. I was none the wiser until a very irate buyer emailed me asking for his package. I checked the delivery confirmation- it showed as waiting to be mailed.

JOEY!!!!!!!!

Of course he forgot. There was probably a parade going by with pretty colors. He tends to get distracted by pretty colors.

So, he got it out of his car and mailed it. I refunded the buyer the cost he paid for shipping- as a token of my appreciation for his understanding. End of story.

Until my phone rang this morning.

"Hi, this is Tom- you sold me a widget on eBay last month."

OH CRAP.

"Yes, Hi Tom, is everything ok?- The delivery confirmation shows as delivered."

"Yes, the widget is perfect. But I am a little confused. You also sent me a cell phone- maybe by accident?

Tom lives in beautiful Minneapolis. Tom was now the proud owner of Joey's one month old cell phone. Tom was nice enough to empathize with me when I explained that my husband had been in charge of mailing his widget. Tom is sending the phone back to me- via priority mail- at my expense. Selling that widget has now COST me a little over a dollar.

My mother used to sew my mittens into the sleeves of my winter coat- she affectionately called them 'idiot mittens.'

When the phone returns home from the cross country roadtrip, I am going to sew it to his head.

Until we meet again, ( Leave comments or I'm not coming back!)

Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

Too much time on my hands

mycoupons — Fri, 02 Mar 2007 11:15:04 -0500

Circulation must be down. I have located yet another person who missed the memo. People, it is ALL ABOUT ME. I get what I want, when I want it. And if you should so choose to cross me or tell me no, you should be prepared for the wrath of Cici.

My most recent victim? Chase Bank.

I had the nerve to pay off my credit card last month. Can you imagine having the audacity? I paid my bill through my online banking service and forgot about it. Until I got a bill on Monday- for .07! Yes, SEVEN CENTS. It would appear that I misread my statement, and under paid by .07. Ok! My mistake, my responsibility.

I called Chase, and got a customer service hater on the phone. I mentioned my faux paus, and asked if they would possibly be able to write off the small balance.

You would have thought I asked her if she would be willing to club baby seals. "Ma'am, you are responsible for your credit card charges, we do not write off anything."

Ok. Understood. Might I be able to make this payment over the telephone, using my checking account, or my Debit card?

" Yes, Ma'am, I will be happy to connect you with our automated service. A service fee of $4.95 will appear on your next statement."

"Desiree, do you have ANY idea how ridiculous that sounds? You are going to charge me FOUR DOLLARS AND NINETY FIVE CENTS to make a SEVEN CENT PAYMENT???!??!"

"That is the charge, Ma'am, why not have your bank send another check?" Desiree asked.

"I would. I really would, but you see, my bank will not issue a check for less than $1."

"You could always mail a check or money order." Desiree offered.

"Well, yes, I suppose I could, but again, spending a .39 stamp to pay .07, feels wrong." I protested.

"I don't really know what to tell you, Ma'am, if you refuse to pay, I will be happy to put a note on your account stating as such, but you will be placed for collections." Desiree warned.

OH H E Double Hockey Sticks NO!

"Desiree?" I asked sweetly. " What would happen if Chase owed ME .07- would they refund it?"

"Absolutely! We do not allow accounts to have credits. The system would refund you any amount that was a surplus on your account." Desiree proudly proclaimed.

"Thank you, Desiree, have a great day!" I said as I hung up.

Let the fun begin. I sat right down, armed with my checkbook and statement.

'Pay to the order of Chase Bank, N.A., Amount? .10, Zero dollars and ten cents. I included a copy of the memo for their future reference.

Yes, it cost me a .39 stamp- but the elation I feel in sticking it to the man was worth so much more.

Chase will open my envelope, and post my .10 payment. Their system will then cut me a refund check for .03. They will spend man hours having someone enter my payment, and the postage required to mail me my .03!

I have a strange feeling that .03 check will mysteriously get Diet Coke spilled on it, rendering it unfit for deposit. I will then have to call Chase, and request a replacement check for .03.

Once I receive the second check, I will keep it. I will let Chase grow old and grey- with a .03 surplus on their books.

I think I need a hobby.

Until we meet again,

Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

This one goes out to the one I love

mycoupons — Fri, 23 Feb 2007 11:15:02 -0500

Seeing as how it is 'Free for all Friday,' I am going to let you, dear reader, get to know ME a little better. Incase you missed the earlier memo that was circulating-I will refresh your memory- it is ALL ABOUT ME. You need to know WHY I am like I am- why I have a great sense of humor, and why I look at the world with a bit of a skewed view- because if I didn't- I'd be in prison.

I love the man. I truly do. But yesterday's events made it crystal clear to me that I married a man who cannot walk and chew gum at the same time. My husband is a genius. Seriously. He was invited to join MENSA, and he would- if he could find his way to the meetings without being sidetracked by a fluffy dog on the side of the road.

My point is the man is so intelligent, that there is no room in his brain for common sense. He can multiply numbers in his head- in seconds! It makes for a great party game, having him rattle off numbers while people sit with calculators trying to stump him. But ask the man to program the VCR, and you may as well be asking him in Gaelic. But I digress.

We have cats. And with cats, come litter boxes. We use the plastic bags that we get at the grocery store to clean up said litter boxes. I also pack his lunch in the plastic bags. They are multi-functional, and very practical.

Yesterday, my husband cleaned out the litter box, tied up the bag, picked up his lunch and left for work. On his way to the car, he tossed the litter bag into the garbage.

At noon, my phone rang. "I brought the cat poop for lunch." He told me.

You did what!?!?

Yup. He threw his ham and Swiss on rye into the garbage pail, and put a bag full of cat poop in the refrigerator at work. I was laughing so hard that I didn't have the time to yell at him for being so thoughtless.

My life is full of these little stories. I am contemplating writing a book called '101 Reasons Why I Should Be Allowed To Kill My Husband' It could be a smashing success! I know I can't be the ONLY woman married to a grown child.

A few weeks ago, he brushed his teeth with Neosporin. Big tube of toothpaste that says COLGATE on the side and smells suspiciously like wintergreen or teeny tube of antibacterial jelly that smells and TASTES like Vaseline? He chose the latter. Evidently, he was thinking about something more important at the moment, like where he put his keys.

The keys. OH DEAR GOD, the keys. If I hear "Where are my keys?" one more time, I am going to snap like Britney Spears in a barber shop. I do not know where his keys are. They could be anywhere. And I mean ANYWHERE. Once we found them in the shower. Why? Your guess is as good as mine. And when he finds them, he says "They are ALWAYS the last place I look!" Of course they are- MORON! Why would you keep looking AFTER you found them??

One morning, I heard the phone ringing. I could not find the phone- I went on a hunt for it. Walking around the house listening for the rings after I pressed 'FIND' on the base unit, I found it. It was in the freezer. Of course it was. Where else would it be?

I swear he has it out for me. He likes to see how far he can push me until I snap. I am a garbage pail enthusiast. I have a little garbage pail in EVERY room of my house. Each week, when he empties the cans, and takes the garbage to the curb- he forgets one room. EVERY SINGLE WEEK! It's a different room each week, but there is always ONE PAIL that was not emptied.

He cannot be trusted with anything having to do with shopping. Period. When I was on bed rest during my pregnancy, I sent him to the grocery store with a list. He came home with exactly TWO things on my list of twenty-nine. Evidently, in his brain, Chunky Monkey ice cream is interchangeable with plums. Since I was on bed rest, I had plenty of time. I actually printed out pictures of what I wanted- brand logos and all. I pasted them into a notebook and sent him back the following week. He got it all right, but I am sure he spent the shopping trip looking like an overgrown toddler with a picture book.

At least he didn't bring home any cat poop.

Until we meet again,

Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

He's not swimming with the fishes...

mycoupons — Fri, 16 Feb 2007 11:15:08 -0500

"Mommy!" my four year old protÃ©gÃ© demanded the other day "Why is there SO much shampoo under your sink??" It was at that very moment that I entered my own 12 step program. I took the first step. At that very moment, I accepted the fact that I had a problem. I couldn't stop SAVING money.

Hi, I'm Cici, and I'm an addict.

It all started with toothpaste.My husband had used the last of it one Monday morning several years ago. Though I was tired from a long day at work, and due to deliver my daughter any day, I knew that if I didn't stop and buy some; I would be stuck using mouthwash to brush my teeth the next morning.

I drove to my local CVS which still had the GRAND OPENING signs on the front door. I walked in with the intention of buying a tube of colgate- and walked out a changed woman. As I picked up the grand opening flyer, I noticed a coupon "$5 FREE on anything in the store!" In serpentine like fashion, I grabbed a handful of flyers, briskly walked to the ladies room in the back of the store, slid into a stall, and started ripping coupons off pages like a lunatic. All told, I had twenty-nine $5 coupons, and enough shredded paper to keep the recycling center in the black for the next quarter. I tucked the coupons into my purse, straightened my skirt, exited the stall, stuffed all of the shredded papers into the trash can, and re-entered the store.

I picked up four tubes of Colgate, and a Snickers bar to create a diversion.With shaking hands, I approached the cashier. I handed her a $5 coupon, and a $5 bill. She handed me the change, and I ran out the door feeling like a criminal. What a rush! I continued this process for the next two weeks. Visiting the store at different hours every day (I didn't want any employees being tipped off to my cunning attempt to deceive them.) I ended up with over 30 tubes of toothpaste that month- as well as enough Snickers bars to feed a small Cambodian village.

My money saving addiction was born that fateful day. My Daugher,16 days later. (I still have both). And four years later, as I glanced down at my four year old, who was wondering exactly WHY we had 62 bottles of shampoo under our sink( of which Target paid me .15 each to remove from the store) I laughed aloud as I realized, my husband is BALD!

At last count, I had 64 tubes of toothpaste, 62 bottles of shampoo, 39 sticks of deodorant, 19 boxes of < ahem> female products, 17 bottles of kid shampoo, 356 diapers, and 3 dozen disposable razors. That's just MY side of the sink. I am sure, if given the chance for further inspection, I could locate the remains of Jimmy Hoffa in my kitchen pantry. Until we meet again, CiciCici@MyCoupons.com

Give me an "M"! Give me an "E"- What's that spell??? ME!

mycoupons — Fri, 09 Feb 2007 11:15:36 -0500

Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Hey Jude!

Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Hey Jude!

Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Hey Jude!

Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Hey Jude!

Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Hey Jude!

Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Hey Jude!

Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Hey Jude!

Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Hey Jude!

I warned you. Now you€™ll be walking around the rest of the day €˜Na Na-ing.€™ You brought it on yourself- don€™t blame me.

Seriously, for finally Fridays to work- I need some problems to solve! I know there are plenty of you out there with problems - send them to ME! Help me help you.

Here is the blurb written for Fridays: Airline lost your luggage? Is a certain company ignoring your request for a refund? Send me your consumer issues- I will call, write, and knock down doors to help you get a resolution to your problem!

There are fewer things I enjoy more in life than yelling at unsuspecting customer service representatives. In fact, the words 'May I speak with your manager' are enough to send chills of happiness tingling through my body.

I have the patience of a five year old on Christmas Eve. In addition, it€™s all about me. I am not above resorting to tears, veiled threats and public humiliation to get my way either.

My picture is surely hanging in the break room of every restaurant from here to Los Angeles. Obviously, the servers in the world did not get the memo..It€™s ALL ABOUT ME.

I have ripped managers from across our great nation the proverbial new one time and time again. I AM a nice person. My friends can attest to that in my comments section...cough€¦cough..hint.. It€™s just that I detest being treated like anything less than human.

If I am going through your check-out line, talk to ME, not the bag boy. If I come to your restaurant to eat, be nice to me. I€™ll tip you well. If I put my underwear in my luggage, I expect it to arrive with me at my destination- not be with a business man in Topeka.

Last year, I purchased a diaper bag from a large retailer whose name I won€™t tell you. Was I expecting Prada-like quality? Of course not. Was I expecting the strap to pop like a bungee cord in the middle of the mall, sending diapers, wipes, coupons and other assorted sundries flying like missiles? Absolutely! I bought it at WAL-MART!

So over to the blue giant I went. All I wanted was an even exchange. You take my disabled diaper bag, and give me a pretty new one. Sounds easy enough, right? WRONG! Evidently, there has been a rash of people buying diaper bags, breaking them intentionally, and then having the nerve to try and exchange them! I was chosen as the one who was going to be taught this lesson in retail retaliation.

"We can€™t exchange it; you€™ll have to contact the manufacturer.€� UH€¦ you ARE the manufacturer. Apparently, I was severely mistaken. The red vest pointed out that the bag was manufactured in China. Oooookay€¦ can I borrow your phone? Long story even longer, after close to fifteen minutes of trying to plead my case like a first year junior law associate, I uttered the magic words.

"I AM the manager.€� She told me. "No, I want YOUR manager.€� I sneered. "I AM my manager.€� She tossed back. "So you are telling me that if the store caught fire, YOU would be the person they called? You are the top of the heap at Wal-Mart?€� She answered yes.

Perhaps it was a momentary lapse in judgment. Maybe, just maybe, she missed the memo. It was clear she had no idea who she was dealing with. I looked at my receipt and said "Why does it say Philwhateverhisnameis- Store Manager- RIGHT HERE- and your name tag says WhatevertheheckYOURnameis????€�

I had her. Right where I wanted her. She was the hurt gazelle, I the mighty tigress.

€œPhilwhateveryournameis- please come to the customer service desk.€� she blared into the PA system. Yeah..I thought so.

Phil not only gave me another diaper bag, he also refunded my money from the first one. Phil must have read the memo.

The moral of the story is, the squeaky wheel may get the grease, but the wheel standing at the customer service desk while her children artfully disassemble the candy rack, gets the refund.

So please, send me your issues. I will do what I have to do to get you resolution. I have free long distance and nothing but time. And the words "I am from MYCOUPONS DOT COM€� Are going to instill fear in the hearts of supervisors. I am giddy with anticipation!

Until we meet again,

Cici
Cici@mycoupons.com