Crunching numbers

I walked into the office this morning, and Christmas had thrown up in the foyer. A tree, obviously fake and desperate for attention, stood in the middle, surrounded by about a dozen poinsettias. These weren't tiny little desktop plants either, they were kind that retail at my other workplace for about $17. I craned my neck around the corner and saw at least a dozen more in the marketing department. I would have traipsed over to do a headcount myself, but it is generally an unfamiliar area, where editorial staff dare not tread, lest ethical ad/edit standards are compromised. But, I'd already seen all there was to see, so I did a little math in my head.

Let's say the magazine bought these seasonal abominations at a bargain price of $12 a pop. There were at least, at least, 25 plants. We'll say about $300 total was spent on covering every square inch of extra floor space with poinsettias.

Separately, but interestingly, there are probably 10 editorial interns on staff. Let's say, in the Christmas spirit, whoever is in charge of buying superfluous flora, instead decided to use the $300 to give the unpaid interns a Christmas bonus. That's $30 per person!!! Ergo, I bring you a top 10.

Top 10 Ways an Intern Can Stretch 30 Smackers

10. 15 medium coffees at Dunkin Donuts, which will sustain me during my 3-hour round-trip commutes, and 7-day work week schedule. On the train, the conductors frequently neglect to announce station stops in the winter months, when it's pitch black outside, and you really have no idea where you are. So I have to stay awake, or else I might miss my stop. Wakefulness is essential. I cannot stay conscious without coffee. You get the drift.
9. Round-trip transportation costs for two days of commuting to Boston. Does not include parking fees.
8. New pair of shoes, and warm socks. Frostbite feels too real a risk in my paper-thin ballet flats, which I have been wearing constantly, due to lack of funds for more appropriate footwear.
7. Replace threadbare dress pants and/or office shirts with more professional looking (read: free of holes, stains) attire.
6. Pay 12 percent of my December Sallie Mae bill. (Merry Christmas, Sallie!!)
5. Get haircut at Costcutters, because it's been months and I look vaguely homeless.
4. Take half a Saturday off work to sleep in.
3. Buy a Christmas present for one, two, or three family members, depending on how generous gift limits are this year.
2. Purchase 7-15 drinks at Starbucks, stage sit-in, and demand the triumphant (and ever-less-likely) return of Hottie McLatte.
1. Procure two five-liter boxes of wine, because I have been doing work for free since May, and sometimes, the only way I can summon the dignity to go on, is if I'm a teensy bit drunk when I leave the house at 7 a.m.

What would you do with 30 greenbacks?

Adventures in customer service

Despite my constant yammering about the injustices of unpaid internships, I've worked several jobs that actually pay money (*gasp*) and for all of them, I've had the pleasure of constantly interacting with the public. I generally enjoy this, and on some days, I would even describe myself as a "people person." Ninety-eight percent of the customers I've seen are kind and polite; some even go out of their way to "notice" that the person behind the counter/register is in fact a human being with a beating heart. Anyone who has ever worked in any kind of retail/business/restaurant situation (which is pretty much everyone on the planet) can probably attest to this.

And then there are The Others. So I would like to preface this story by saying that I've never been one of The Others. I have never sent back food, even when I probably should have, caused a scene, or complained when it wasn't necessary. In fact, I don't think I've ever complained to a sales person, waitress, or manager face-to-face.

My mode of complaint communication is e-mail. Last week, I sent this to Dunkin Donuts after making an alarming discovery:

This morning I got a coffee from your location in Boston's Back Bay train station. I've always loved DD coffee, but I'm afraid that today you gave me reason to doubt my allegiance. As I got to the bottom of the coffee, there was a foreign object in it. It was hard and dark, maybe a piece of a coffee bean? My guess is a piece of broken plastic. Nevertheless, not supposed to be there and certainly an unpleasant surprise in my mouth. Please be aware of this. I won't be rushing back to DD anytime soon.

I received a reply within a day or two from some corporate handler, who apologized for my experience, let me know that all DD shops are franchised, and that she would be sending along my e-mail to the owner of the Back Bay store.

This isn't the first time I sent an e-mail with regards to unsatisfactory consumer experiences. I had success letting IMax know that, when I went to see Spiderman 2, the volume was much too loud and the theater much too cold. Two complimentary tickets. CHA CHING. That was very generous of them, because, what am I, 86? The IMax is too loud? In my defense, it was so loud that I could feel my ear drums vibrate during all of the action-packed scenes, and I heard ringing for about an hour after I left the theater. But don't worry, I've written many complimentary e-mails too, once exchanging in weeks-long banter with the lovely people at Reebok.

So, back to how I was wronged by Dunkin Donuts. On Friday of last week, I was out with my brothers and received a phone call, oh yes, a personal phone call, from the manager of the train station Dunkies. Profuse apologizing ensued, and strangely, he asked me if I saved the piece of Whatever-It-Was that found its way into my drink.

When was the last time you had some foreign body in your mouth, which you had to spit out, and then said "hey, let's put this in a Ziploc in case anyone wants to take a look later."

No sir, I did not save it.

Anyway, he asked for my address and said he's pop a gift card in the mail. Today it arrived, with a little note saying, "Hope we see you again." The card was for $10, which will buy me 5 medium regulahs. Totes worth the 3 minutes it took me to send out that e-mail. SO TOTES WORTH IT. You will see me again, good sir.

Note: This never would have happened if Hottie McLatte poured me that cup of coffee.