Know and exercise your rights. Oh, and be sure to visit their website @ FlexYouRights.org. I found this video and the FlexYourRights website here.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Where Do I Pay My AT&T Bill?
YOU'VE GOT CHOICES:
Option #1: Pay your bill through the mail like most people have been doing since its inception.
Option #2: Pay your bill electronically by registering an automatic payment options at att.com.
Option #3: Pay your bill at a local AT&T retailer. Ah, but which one? There are lots of AT&T retailers throughout your neighborhood. Here's a short list:
1. 5827 Rosemead Blvd. @ 626-237-0505.
2. 217 East Valley @ 626-782-0601.
3. 4118 Rosemead Blvd. @ 626-287-2288.
4. 425 N. Santa Anita in Arcadia @626-446-6265.
5. 400 S. Baldwin, the Santa Anita Fashion Plaza @ 626-294-0370.
6. 810 East Valley, Alhambra, the Big 5 Shopping Plaza @ 626-382-0241.
Option #1: Pay your bill through the mail like most people have been doing since its inception.
Option #2: Pay your bill electronically by registering an automatic payment options at att.com.
Option #3: Pay your bill at a local AT&T retailer. Ah, but which one? There are lots of AT&T retailers throughout your neighborhood. Here's a short list:
1. 5827 Rosemead Blvd. @ 626-237-0505.
2. 217 East Valley @ 626-782-0601.
3. 4118 Rosemead Blvd. @ 626-287-2288.
4. 425 N. Santa Anita in Arcadia @626-446-6265.
5. 400 S. Baldwin, the Santa Anita Fashion Plaza @ 626-294-0370.
6. 810 East Valley, Alhambra, the Big 5 Shopping Plaza @ 626-382-0241.
The first store I drove to was the Santa Anita Ave. store. I went there because I was closest. The rep was serving a couple so I had to wait. He asked me how he could help and I told him that I wanted to pay my bill for my U-Verse account. He explained that he didn't have the software to receive and record payments. Strike one. He suggested I go down to the Valley store in El Monte. He didn't give me the address, maybe he didn't have the address or didn't know the address; but he was in the middle of helping customers, so I couldn't fault him for dropping everything that he was doing and go look up the address for me. He said that it was right there off of Valley Mall off of Santa Anita. You can't miss it. Oh, really? I did miss it; I could not find the store. I don't know if they allow you to make a payment there or not. The address is here: 10904 Valley Mall, El Monte, CA. The phone number is 626-329-0869. So I couldn't find it. Not to worry. I had my trusty list of addresses. I was prepared. So I drove west on Valley Boulevard into Alhambra. There was a store at 217 East Valley. The store is there as of August 8, 2012, but you may not find it on Google maps because it is a new store. I parked and walked in. The gentleman explained that his store does not take payments either, that I would have to go to the store in the Big 5 Shopping Plaza a little farther down on Valley. I pulled into the lot, found a spot, and walked in. I was able to pay my bill. Yay! So, if you need to pay a bill in person, that is the store to go to--810 East Valley Boulevard in the Big 5 Shopping Plaza.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Why I Don't Like Monterey Park the City
The City of Monterey Park has contracted their animal control services with the County of Los Angeles this year. Monterey Park used to contract with the San Gabriel Animal Shelter for its animal services. What does this mean? I don't know. What do I know? I know that the city of Monterey Park is a corruptible non-service city. Why would I claim that they're corrupt?
Four years ago I was in the city to meet up with a landlord I had called about 30 minutes earlier. I was looking for a place to rent in an effort to save money. The place was on Graves near Alhambra Road. It had a driveway that ran down toward the back where a cluster of small one-to-two bedroom rentals were built in a row. As I stepped half way down the sloping driveway in my flip-flops to the units in the back, a pit bull steps out from under the threshold to one of the units. At first, the dog looked away from me to its left. But that was a just a reflex before it would see me, and see me it did. As soon as it did, its tail shot erect like a pit bulls' tail, which, of course, it was. I turned, and the chase was on. I ran back up the sloping driveway in my beach walkers looking for a place to ditch the dog. My first thought ran to the wall separating the two properties but I thought I heard a dog on the other side of the wall. I didn't want to go from the pan into the fire, so I kept running, if you could call it that. I eye-balled a medium-sized tree. Not big enough. At my weight and height, my climb could snap a branch and I'd feed my leg bone to the charging bull behind me. Options were shrinking as was my world. I could hear the dog's nails on the cement--not your typical click-clack; more like a tic-a, tic-a, tic-a. I ran into the street careless to any traffic and hurdled onto the trunk of my car parked on the opposite side of Graves, and as I did a woman across the street screamed. Apparently, she witnessed the chase and the dog's lunge at my foot from her next-door front porch. As I slid onto the trunk, for a split second I feared that I would slide off and into the jaws of the beast. As I found my footing on the trunk then to the roof, the crouched dog eyeballed the jump from the curb to the trunk of my car when the owner caught her by the collar and slapped the bitch across the face. My 6'4" frame, barefoot in flip-flops was standing on the roof of my car. The dog's look, now apologetic, was still fixed on me as the owner dragged her back to the house. There I was standing atop my car in my sandals in the middle of the day with traffic crawling past, drivers craning their necks to understand what drama unfolded here. The other neighbor to the west came out onto his porch to ask, "Are you okay?" I said I was and added that I am just glad to have my flesh. As the owner walked the dog back and locked her inside, the neighbor to the west came farther out into his front yard to speak with me. A very decent gentleman. He told me from his front yard while I was still on the roof of my Honda that her dog gets out all the time. He explained that when he does gardening in his front yard that he carries a hammer with him. He added that when his granddaughter comes over on the weekends for parties or barbecues that he has to keep everybody in the backyard, that the kids can't play anywhere in the front because of the neighbor's pit bull. I asked him about the city, if they know about it or if they've done anything about it? He said they know about it, but nobody can do anything until someone gets bit. So I thought I could convince the animal shelter folks. I went the city hall immediately to file a report.
The first officer who came to take my information listened to me briefly. As I finished, he asked me "What reason do you have to be in Monterey Park?" hinting that I was engaged in some criminal activity to put me on the defense. Unbelievable. He took my information and said that he would relay it to the Animal Control unit. He was the worst cop I'd ever met. Wait, is that true . . . ? Let me think . . . . Yup. He was the worst. Anyway, to make a long story short, I followed up on the next week and the Animal Control guy explained that nothing is going to happen, that they know about the woman. I caught the Animal Control guys in a lie, too, about having gone out to the woman's house. The cops say one thing, the animal control guys say another, the city blotter that contains all reports stated that no one went out to the woman's house. The cops and city officials of Monterey Park are liars, each one scratching the others' backs.
Four years ago I was in the city to meet up with a landlord I had called about 30 minutes earlier. I was looking for a place to rent in an effort to save money. The place was on Graves near Alhambra Road. It had a driveway that ran down toward the back where a cluster of small one-to-two bedroom rentals were built in a row. As I stepped half way down the sloping driveway in my flip-flops to the units in the back, a pit bull steps out from under the threshold to one of the units. At first, the dog looked away from me to its left. But that was a just a reflex before it would see me, and see me it did. As soon as it did, its tail shot erect like a pit bulls' tail, which, of course, it was. I turned, and the chase was on. I ran back up the sloping driveway in my beach walkers looking for a place to ditch the dog. My first thought ran to the wall separating the two properties but I thought I heard a dog on the other side of the wall. I didn't want to go from the pan into the fire, so I kept running, if you could call it that. I eye-balled a medium-sized tree. Not big enough. At my weight and height, my climb could snap a branch and I'd feed my leg bone to the charging bull behind me. Options were shrinking as was my world. I could hear the dog's nails on the cement--not your typical click-clack; more like a tic-a, tic-a, tic-a. I ran into the street careless to any traffic and hurdled onto the trunk of my car parked on the opposite side of Graves, and as I did a woman across the street screamed. Apparently, she witnessed the chase and the dog's lunge at my foot from her next-door front porch. As I slid onto the trunk, for a split second I feared that I would slide off and into the jaws of the beast. As I found my footing on the trunk then to the roof, the crouched dog eyeballed the jump from the curb to the trunk of my car when the owner caught her by the collar and slapped the bitch across the face. My 6'4" frame, barefoot in flip-flops was standing on the roof of my car. The dog's look, now apologetic, was still fixed on me as the owner dragged her back to the house. There I was standing atop my car in my sandals in the middle of the day with traffic crawling past, drivers craning their necks to understand what drama unfolded here. The other neighbor to the west came out onto his porch to ask, "Are you okay?" I said I was and added that I am just glad to have my flesh. As the owner walked the dog back and locked her inside, the neighbor to the west came farther out into his front yard to speak with me. A very decent gentleman. He told me from his front yard while I was still on the roof of my Honda that her dog gets out all the time. He explained that when he does gardening in his front yard that he carries a hammer with him. He added that when his granddaughter comes over on the weekends for parties or barbecues that he has to keep everybody in the backyard, that the kids can't play anywhere in the front because of the neighbor's pit bull. I asked him about the city, if they know about it or if they've done anything about it? He said they know about it, but nobody can do anything until someone gets bit. So I thought I could convince the animal shelter folks. I went the city hall immediately to file a report.
The first officer who came to take my information listened to me briefly. As I finished, he asked me "What reason do you have to be in Monterey Park?" hinting that I was engaged in some criminal activity to put me on the defense. Unbelievable. He took my information and said that he would relay it to the Animal Control unit. He was the worst cop I'd ever met. Wait, is that true . . . ? Let me think . . . . Yup. He was the worst. Anyway, to make a long story short, I followed up on the next week and the Animal Control guy explained that nothing is going to happen, that they know about the woman. I caught the Animal Control guys in a lie, too, about having gone out to the woman's house. The cops say one thing, the animal control guys say another, the city blotter that contains all reports stated that no one went out to the woman's house. The cops and city officials of Monterey Park are liars, each one scratching the others' backs.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
My Gripe With SONY's Customer Service and Their VAIO Laptop
My gripe with SONY. I bought a VAIO in January of 2011. In under two weeks, I began having problems with the touchpad. A friend of mine cautioned me to use a remote mouse or a USB connected mouse. I've tried both. When I am at a table or desk, yes, the mouse is preferable. But I type on a chair next to my desk regularly. So I prefer to use the touchpad; plus, I figure if I paid for it, it should work, no? I paid nearly $700 with no additional retailer warranty on the parts. And I am paying for it now.
[Service Representative's Name] known throughout this letter as "Paul",
Hi. Since your Glendale store replaced the touchpad on my computer of August last year in an effort to resolve the erratic cursor, the problem has persisted unabated. To your credit, you spent time with my computer, testing it in front of me, offering options that may have addressed the problem but ultimately did not and could not. And you sought a solution to every request that I put to you, though not to any customer satisfaction. The only satisfaction that I can get is to never purchase a SONY product again. Paul, that's not a caustic statement to you, just an expression of disappointment for which only I can remedy with future tech purchases. After seeking help through SONY online and through your store, with each representative from SONY pointing (oh, what irony!) at the user's erroneous placement of his palm. You told me in the store when I met with you that the reason for the erratic behavior of the mouse is because "I inadvertently placed my palm on the touchpad." I know how to use a computer. I know what I do when I use a computer. I know where my hands are. I know what I am touching and what I am not touching while using the computer, Paul. My palms were not touching the touchpad. Be sure to see your earlier reply below in blue. You said "I usually find that the reason why a cursor will jump around is that when you are typing on the onboard keyboard, the palms may inadvertently tap the touchpad moving the cursor where the mouse has been placed." To each person whom I've reported the problem, they've proffered the same explanation, and get this, without ever seeing me use the keyboard. What that tells me, Sonny, is one that you've been trained by SONY to offer that as a plausible explanation to deny any knowing culpability that SONY has produced, distributed, and sold faulty goods to a mass market. a But like any desperate company seeking to maximize profits over quality and service, SONY distributed a faulty product, one in which pressure anywhere on the panel where the touchpad is will activate the cursor and cause it to behave erratically and out of control. I don't know who is to blame--technicians, designers? Both? Managers? Maybe. But I am not alone in this complaint.
--- On Tue, 8/16/11, Services.Americana <Services.Americana@am.sony.com> wrote:
From: Services.Americana <Services.Americana@am.sony.com>
Subject: RE: Your Sony Repair: InComplete
To: "'Michael Walgenbach'" <m......44@yahoo.com>
Date: Tuesday, August 16, 2011, 2:54 PM
Hello Mike,
I am sorry to hear about the difficult time that you had experienced.
A repeat repair is a repair that we can set up in our store for another repair on the same issue on the computer. Before we proceed with this option, have you been able to decreased the mouse/touchpad sensitivity through the Control Panel? I usually find that the reason why a cursor will jump around is that when you are typing on the onboard keyboard, the palms may inadvertently tap the touchpad moving the cursor where the mouse has been placed. Please try lowering touchpad sensitivity and see if this may help resolve this issue.
Regards,
"Paul"
Sony Premium Services Consultant
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Japanese Beds
Japanese beds. This company, Oriental Furniture, is located in Cambridge, Massachusetts. They have 3 colors--honey, black, and walnut. I'd want the walnut if I order from them.
The price of this bed is $529. Its dimensions are 10' high, 64" wide, and 74" long.
There is another company called Haiku Designs.
The price of this bed is $529. Its dimensions are 10' high, 64" wide, and 74" long.
There is another company called Haiku Designs.
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