Television Wars...Episode II...Escalation

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Hello readers. I hope you all enjoyed last week's post on my dad and dealing with the bank...it was a good laugh and definitely high up there in terms of crazy and ridiculous things my dad has done. Well, that brings me to the topic of this week's post, the continuation of Television Wars, and seeing just how nuts my parents can get when faced with a particularly prickly situation. So where did we leave off last time? Oh right, my parents thought they could get us to stop watching the Simpsons by running around the house changing the time on all the clocks. Well the solution was short-lived, and was about as effective in dealing with our television addiction as trying to plug a crack in a dyke with your finger...there were bigger issues to address here. My parents knew that they could not watch my brother and I every minute of the day, and the second they took their eyes off of us, we would be watching TV...doesn't really matter what was on...it could've been infomercials on exercise equipment (I've actually watched those as a kid) for all we cared...we just liked watching television. Seeing as the television wars were just starting to heat up, and my parents were dealing with an unconventional enemy that could not be reasoned with, they decided to fight fire with fire and escalate the level of crazy. Thus I give you "Television Wars...Episode II...Escalation". 

Before I go any further in this story, please rest assured that what you are about to read is 100% accurate and requires no embellishment (although most people think I am making this up upon first hearing it). So now that everybody has been sufficiently warned, and if you have read this far, you are probably wondering what on earth my dad could've thought up to escalate this little conflict: well, I will tell you. My dad actually reverse-engineered his problem to come up with a solution. Allow me to explain: 

Problem: an inability to keep children from turning on television 
Variables: television addicted children 
Desired outcome: keep children from watching too much television 

The problem in obtaining your desired outcome is that you cannot control the variables which are proving quite uncontrollable, in this case the children which you cannot stop from turning on the television. So, my dad being the unconventional thinker that he was, decided to rethink this little problem as follows: 

Problem: an inability to keep children from turning on television 
Variables: television being turned on 
Desired outcome: keep television from being turned on by children 

You see what he did? It’s subtle but effective. He thought that if he could not keep us from turning on the television, he would simply keep the television from being turned on. But you're probably thinking to yourself "Daniel that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. How would you do that?" How indeed?! And therein lies the genius of his ridiculous solution, and the bane of my childhood experience. My dad decided to build something that I would later describe as a medieval torture device (no, no, I'm just kidding...nobody was tortured, at least not physically...but I did hate that thing): I guess it can only be described as a locking box in which you would place the television's electrical plug, thus denying the television the ability to turn on, and more importantly keeping my brother and I from watching it. See, I know you don't believe me, so I've provided a little photographic proof, and believe me, this thing is all too real.  

Old "Snappy" getting ready for action

Snappy doing what he does best

Locked and loaded and ready to crush spirits!

Two pieces of scrap wood, two hinges, eight screws, two eye loop screws, one lock, and about an hour's worth of work were all it took to build this little monster and escalate the television wars to a whole new level of crazy. It's gone by many names over the years, but here are some of my favorites: 'Snappy', 'The box', 'The thing', 'The spirit crusher'...okay, I made that last one up, but that is what it felt like. It was a very defeating feeling to see that thing placed on the television plug and not be able to watch your 'good  friend'. My parents watched with glee as the balance of power shifted back in their favor and they regained the initiative. They watched us shake that thing for hours like a bunch of monkeys trying to open a coconut, trying to find some sort of weakness, a flaw that we could exploit, and thought to themselves, "check-mate and goodnight...this game is over...we just went nuclear!" Well, we were pretty defeated for a while, and for a moment there, it looked like my parents had won; but I'll tell you one thing, like our parents, my brother and I are not quitters, and when faced with this completely ridiculous and unconventional problem, we dug in our heels, put our heads together and decided to come up with solutions to get around this thing. Little did we know that this little act of escalation in the television wars was but the first chapter in an adventure that would span over a decade, and provide us with countless laughs and stories to tell, that in the end, it was probably more entertaining than anything that could have been on TV at the time.  

I've actually decided to keep the television box as a little souvenir but also as a source of inspiration:  sometimes the most insurmountable problems in life have the simplest and most ridiculous solutions. Besides, it makes for a really great conversation starter and people usually don't believe me until I show it to them.  

If you like to read my blog, please be sure to follow me on twitter, @Daniel_Galve    
You can also subscribe for regular updates through my blog, or sign up for the RSS feed.  
Don't forget to also check out some of my past blog posts for more great stories on my dad's ridiculous adventures.  

Be sure to read look out for next week's post, "Television Wars...Episode III...The children strike back", as my brother and I set our minds to trying to break the puzzle of "The box" and best our parents.  

Stay tuned for more.   

Daniel    

My dad on dealing with the bank...and his views on the financial crisis

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Hello readers. I hope you all had a pleasant Valentine's Day, filled with gifts, flowers and lots of love...and if you didn't, well you probably just haven't found anybody good enough for you yet, and Valentine's Day is for chumps anyways. My Valentine's Day was somewhat less then enjoyable, as it involved flowers not being delivered to a very disappointed girlfriend, and a lengthy battle with customer service agents to get satisfaction. Well, long story short, the floral company (let's not name any names here, but let's just say their initials could stand for "Failure To Deliver") finally made it up to me, but not after a number of nasty facebook posts, abrasive tweets, and countless emails to customer service. However through all this insanity and frustration, I found the inspiration for this week's post, as I decided to take a little lesson out of my dad's hand-book on dealing with large corporations and their customer service departments, and get creative in my approach.  

For some thrill seeking people, blood sport involves hunting, bare-knuckle boxing, or some other form of primal combat: but for my dad, those things are pass-times for boys, and real sport involves going one-on-one with customer service departments. I actually dread having to call customer service help-lines, come on, it's a drag...but my dad...well, he not only enjoys it...he relishes in the challenge of dealing with countless layers of customer support, and seeing how far he can escalate his call. Some of you are probably thinking, "this man is crazy...who in their right mind enjoys calling customer service, and wasting their time?". Rightfully so. And you're not alone...I think the same thing on a regular basis when my dad tells me his latest plans for a renewed offensive against the satellite television provider. And that's the thing, most large companies figure that if they make their customer service departments big enough, with sufficient layers of escalation, they can discourage most callers into giving up...as the actual benefit vs time lost on the phone is so insignificant that nobody in their right mind would continue playing this little game (they say the average person begins to lose patience on the phone after 7 minutes, will hang up after 9 minutes, and most calls are answered after an average wait time of 12 minutes...pretty sneaky right?). Well, they did not count on going up against my dad, a man who once spent over three hours on the phone with the same customer service agent, and when questioned by said customer service agent as to why he had wasted so much of his time on the phone, my dad simply replied: "because I am semi-retired, and have all the time in the world...besides, I like talking to you." You see what we are dealing with here? This is a man who lives for this sort of crazy thing, and is not governed by the same rules of logic as you or I. 

I suppose that is enough background information on my dad's favorite pass-time of tormenting customer service agents, so let's get on to the main event, how my dad dealt with the bank, and his views on the global financial crisis. This story goes back about three years, as the global economic crisis was in full effect, and financial institutions were shutting the flow of credit to their clients, and increasing interest rates on loans to try and cover their losses. One thing you should know about my dad: he is a very loyal guy. If he likes you, he'll give you all his business, and will stick with you through thick and thin. But if you try and cheat him, he'll make you pay for it tenfold, and will never forgive you. That's just the way he is...he's old-school like that. Well one day, as the global credit crunch was in full force, my dad got a kindly-worded letter from his bank telling him that due to the worsening global situation, the interest rate on his line of credit would be increasing by 2%. As you can imagine, and unwarranted increase on his line of credit interest rate was not the sort of thing that would put my dad in a good mood. To add insult to injury, the letter concluded by saying the following: "in these difficult times, we ask all of our valued clients to make sacrifices. Please be assured that we value your business". Well, if he wasn't mad before, he sure was now. And I can't blame him. I would be fuming at this point. Now this is where the story gets fun: after ranting for over two hours on how all banks were thieves and that they had no right to raise the interest rate on a "valued customer" such as himself (they did after all refer to him as one in their letter), I eventually found out that my dad did not even use his line of credit. Well, I tried to reason with him and tell him that it was not worth getting into a fight over, but true to his nature, he felt it was a matter of principle and that he was being unfairly treated (perhaps even being taken advantage of - according to him, people are more likely to try and take advantage of him because he is an immigrant and speaks with an accent...trust me, it's true...but that's a story for another time). There was no reasoning with him, and he was inconsolable: he wanted his old interest rate back, on his line of credit he never used...you try reasoning with that.  

When you think about it, my dad was right to be angry, as big corporations pull this sort of thing all the time on unsuspecting clients...and most of time, people can't be bothered to do something about it. Well my dad did something about it, and believe me, this is the sort of thing that either borders on crazy, or innovative...you decide. 

After an initial round of telephone calls to the bank's customer service department, and getting unsatisfactory answers, my dad really started to lose patience, and my mom suggested that perhaps he should simply give up. Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. You see he was already in too deep, and it was now a matter of pride. In his mind, he was standing up for the little guy who gets pushed around...call it what you want, I just think he was bored that day. Anyways, after having vented his frustrations on a fourth level of customer service, and not getting anywhere, my dad decided to pull out his favorite weapon in the arsenal...a personal letter to the bank: "lovingly" dictated by my dad, and diligently transcribed and 'edited' by my mom (by edited, I mean removing all the profanities, and making the letter appropriate to read). Well my mom does not like writing these sorts of letters, but she had to bite the bullet on this one, because dad was on the war-path, and there was no changing his mind. Below are extracts from the letter he sent to the Canadian Vice-President of credit services from his bank. 

Dear Mr. so and so, 

I would like to thank you for your kind letter […] informing me of my status as a valued customer with your bank. It is so nice to receive this sort of validation after close to twenty years of loyal business. […] I was quite distressed to learn that you had unilaterally decided to raise the interest rate on my line of credit. I am all the more saddened by the fact that you did not contact me prior to this unwarranted increase, as I may have been amenable to a slight increase, after all I am a shareholder in your bank, and I too believe that we must all make sacrifices in these trying times. […] It is this point of sacrifice that I would like to stress to you: you try and rationalize this interest rate increase to me by saying that the economic crisis is worsening and that sacrifices must be made. I agree. Sacrifices must be made, and someone must pay. But I believe it is immoral, and frankly criminal to force everyday people, such as myself, who are suffering from this global crisis to pay for a problem that was created by the irresponsible practices of financial institutions such as yours. I do not believe that I should be made to pay for a problem that is not of my own making: seeing as how this is a problem of your creation, I suggest you put your brightest financial minds to work and try to repair this situation, instead of trying to gauge honest hard working people. 

Please rest assured that I value being your customer. 

Sure enough, guess what came in the mail a week later? That's right, a personal letter from the VP himself apologizing for the situation, with an adjustment and reduction in the interest rate. The VP was even kind enough to personally call my dad for a quick chat and reassure my dad that they really did value his business: my dad reassured him that he was satisfied and even offered up some advice on how to resolve the financial crisis.  

Well, my dad still has that letter. I think he even framed it. He still uses that letter for inspiration whenever he feels like he's been cheated, and needs to pick another fight with a large corporation (that happens a lot). 

I don't know if there is any real philosophical life lesson in all this...but it's one funny story, and just goes to show you, that if you don't ask, you don't get...no matter how ridiculously you ask. 

If you like to read my blog, please be sure to follow me on twitter, @Daniel_Galve   
You can also subscribe for regular updates through my blog, or sign up for the RSS feed. 
Don't forget to also check out some of my past blog posts for more great stories on my dad's ridiculous adventures. 


Be sure to look out for next week's post, "Television Wars...Episode II...Escalation", as things start to get a little nuts in our family.

Stay tuned for more.  

Daniel   

My dad on conflict resolution...and moving mountains

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Hello readers...so after last week's post on my dad's buried treasure, my mom commented to me on how ridiculous that story was, and that my father was insane for having dug that trench. Well you know what? She's right. That was absolutley insane. But on the crazy barometer of things my dad has said and done over the years, digging a six foot deep, twenty foot long trench around the house does not even come close to the inspiration for this week's post.   

First let me give you a little background about where I grew up (trust me, it will all make sense in the end). So as I was saying, I grew up in the Montreal neighborhood of NDG. NDG is a great place to live, and some of my fondest memories as a kid were of playing in the snow covered backyard. Conversely, some of the worst memories are of the backyard being flooded in the spring-time months by the melting snow, and turning it into a Louisiana style swamp-land. Well, as I mentioned in my previous post, my dad is quite the do-it yourselfer, and over the years has developed a truly ingenious syphon system to drain our backyard of melting snow. As it happens, our backyard was actually the lowest in the neighborhood, so naturally our neighbors were more then thrilled when my dad's syphon would inevitably drain their backyards, leaving ours flooded for the longest period of time. Well my dad is a good sport, and really didn't mind. But as those people who know him best will tell you, my father does not mind doing favors for people, but absolutely hates being taken advantage of. Well this brings me to the topic of this week's post, how my dad deals with conflict resolution, and how he decided to move a mountain.  

Remember our neighbor Roger? He's the guy my dad convinced to help him dig for buried treasure...if you haven't read it already, please read my previous post on my dad's buried treasure...trust me, it is a great story! As I saying, when Roger first moved in, the real-estate agent informed him that the only draw-back to the neighborhood was the fact that the gardens always got flooded in the spring time. Well, seeing as how it was a great house, and NDG is a wonderful place to live, this was seen as a minor inconvenience, and something that could easily be overcome. Well upon moving in, Roger thought he was quite clever, and decided to raise his backyard by a few inches, thus making his higher then ours. My father was naturally displeased by this act, and promptly headed over to introduce himself to his new neighbor, and secondly ask what the hell he thought he was doing, raising his backyard. 

Dad: Hi. 

Roger: Hello. 

Dad: Are you out of your mind? 

Roger: I'm sorry...what do you mean? (naturally a little taken back by my father's forwardness) 

Dad: You raised your backyard over mine! 

Roger: Well yeah, I don't want it to get flooded in the spring. 

Dad: What about my backyard? That means mine will stay flooded the longest! 

Roger: Well that's too bad. I guess you should have thought of raising your backyard too (he thought this was quite funny, given the very difficult nature of the task). 

Those of you who know my dad will tell you one thing...don't taunt the man! He will go to any lengths to prove a point, including moving mountains (you'll see, it all makes sense in a little bit). 

Dad: Is that so? 

Roger: Yes it is. 

Dad: Okay then, we'll see what's what. 

And they promptly parted ways. As luck would have it (and as my mom will tell you, my father is probably the luckiest person on earth) the heavens conspired to help my dad prove his point, and make my brother and mine's life a living nightmare. My father happened to be walking Simba and Paula (the family dogs) by a construction site, and saw the mechanical shovels pulling out tons of black earth. Well my dad, always being on the look-out for a good deal, approached the foreman and asked him how much he wanted for the earth. The foreman was a little taken back by this question, as I'm sure it was the first time someone had approached him to buy earth he was hauling out of a job site. He thought about it for a while, and answered fifty dollars. He then asked my father how much earth he wanted. My father asked him how much a dump truck could hold. The foreman replied, about forty tons or so. Well that was perfect, my father replied, and proceeded to give him the money and delivery address. 

Imagine my mother's surprise as this enormous dump truck pulls up to the house, and my father jumps out of the cab with a yellow construction helmet, happy as can be. Now imagine that surprise turning to shear horror as the dump truck proceeds to back into the driveway and dump forty tons of earth. My mother, being cool-headed as ever, told my dad that she did not want to know what sort of hair-brained scheme he was up to, but that she wanted no part of it. 

So as you've probably figured out by now, my dad had every intention of taking Roger up on his taunt and raising our backyard with forty tons of black earth. When Roger came home that afternoon and saw my father with a wheel-barrow, a shovel and a forty ton mountain of earth on our half of the driveway, he naturally 'inquired' as to what my dad was up to.  

Dad: Just a little light gardening project (with a sly smile on the corner of his face) 

Roger: Okay...(I can only imagine what was going through his mind at the time) 

Dad: I really think it's going to 'raise' the value of the houses around here.  

You see Roger still had no idea what was going on here. But believe me, he sure received an education. What followed next is nothing short of a herculean feat of strength and will. Armed only with three shovels, two wheel barrows, and a make-shift wooden ramp, my dad, my brother and I hauled forty tons of black earth into our backyard over the course of four weekends. He watched in horror as shovel by shovel, barrow by-barrow we raised that backyard over twelve inches, and effectively became the highest backyard on the block. Guess who's backyard doesn't flood in the spring anymore? And guess who's backyard now consistently gets flooded? Oh yeah, it was worth it! 

To this day, it was the most back-breaking labor I have ever done. That experience has taught me, that armed with a little ingenuity, and a whole lot of will power you can do just about anything. So before you go out and taunt my dad with something ridiculous, remember, he does not get mad, he gets even, and nothing is beyond him, not even moving mountains! 

Stay tuned for more. 

Daniel.