Bag of Butts: Smart Glass Denver

What would you do if you were a woman in a dark parking garage and saw this stuck to your side mirror?

You’d probably get out, walk around and check for damage, and you’d probably have your guard down.

This is pretty much what my friend Kristi did today, before dialing the number and learning that some crackhead at Smart Glass Denver was merely trying to get her business. Not only is it intrusive, uncool marketing—it’s straight up unsafe, too. So Kristi and her fiancé James (alias Marketing Punk) have set out to destroy them via the intarwebs:

If you have a blog, and you would be so kind, please make a post (it can be super short) that talks about what Smart Glass did to Kristi and use the words Smart Glass Denver in the post title. Then, put a link to this blog post from your blog using the linking text “Smart Glass Denver”. Hopefully in a couple of weeks anyone who types Smart Auto into a search engine will see all of our posts on the first page.

If you’d like to voice your dissatisfaction directly, you can reach Smart Glass by calling 303-296-0809.

So far so good. Just type in ‘Smart Glass Denver’ into Google and see what comes up first.

[UPDATE]: Looks like the Consumerist has taken aim at Smart Glass Denver. Go get ‘em!

Where’s Ray Stantz when you need him?

I’ve been thinking for three days about how I hate ski towns, especially in the summer. They’re staffed with these snotty kids who seem all deserving of a seven dollar tip because they parked your car in the mandatory valet or squeezed a lemon slice in your water:

(1) A dirt lot is not valet, and
(2) Don’t put your hands on my foodstuffs. I just saw you pick your pimple five minutes ago

So imagine my pleasant surprise when I got signed into my bank account tonight to find that the Vail resort I stayed on Sunday deducted $350 from my bank account for no apparent reason. The room, you see, was pre-paid for by my company, and I saw the bill during checkout. One night’s stay was less than half the $350 they charged me.

Add to this the fact that I’ve been attempting to ball on a budget for a large host of reasons, including that I’m supposed to leave on Thursday for a ‘vacation’ to Iowa that I’d rather not go on just yet. And add to that the fact that I’ve had a horrible day, I’m tired, hungry, AND GEORGE WASHINGTON IS COMING.

I may have been flustered and upset at the mere sight of the deduction, but when I called the resort to find out what it was for, I did a total Roger Rabbit. (This was the best photo I could find. But you know the part where he drinks the Kool-Aid and freaks out.) Or maybe it was more like a Dana Barrett from Ghostbusters where she gets possessed by Gozer and turns into “Zuul.” (She looks sultry here, but that’s only to get you to come close enough so she can eat your brains.)

Either way, I was hot. So I called and here’s what the kid at the desk told me:

(1) Despite the fact that the room was pre-paid for, he **assumed** that the charges had to do with a deposit that they take out of your account at check-in to make sure you have enough funds to pay for the room.

(2) He wasn’t sure how the deposit amount was determined, but he knew they didn’t require it of all guests. Which, I suppose, means that I was privy to some sort of profiling, like I looked under the age of 30 and was therefore more likely to run out on the bill. This did not sit well with George (see above) and me.

(3) He **thought** that the charges should be back in my bank account, **probably** within 48-72 hours.

I spat sophisticated, PG-rated hellfire and was invited to call back in the morning to speak to the manager. I’ll take him up on that.

But honestly, in an age of full disclosure, I have no idea whatsoever why a company would decide against informing a patron about something like this, especially if the dollar amount is more than $50-$100. Or maybe these assholes assume that everyone who comes to stay at the Vail Marriott Resort and Day Spa is cool with losing $350 for no apparent reason.

Chalk another one up to the irritating ski towns.

[Jam of the Day]: John Frusciante, Omission

Posterchild for Defunct Office Equipment

I’m a lot like that weird, placid Dyson guy: I just think things should work properly.

Which is why I was quite irate over having to spend my entire morning copying documents on our ineffectual xerox machine.

Sure, I had a lot of stuff to copy (literally, United Way, I love you guys but get your stuff together and let people submit award apps online. Sheesh.) but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t be getting a COPY 303:45 ERROR (paper jam, tray two) every time I copy a single sheet of paper.

The copier, as it turns out, is also positioned right outside the CEO’s office. So he had a clear view of my frustration as I searched for jammed paper, turned the thing on and off, unplugged it, waited five minutes, plugged it back in, and so on. He’d look over his computer screen at me once in awhile and say things like, “Can I help?” and “Do you need a hand?” And I’d say things like, “Sure; if you have the power to perform miracles,” and “Only if you have a baseball bat.”

Around 11, the CEO emerged from his office and stood next to me.

“It’s still giving you a hard time, huh,” he said sheepishly.
I was covered in yellow post-its, hair a-frazzle. I nodded. Then I said, “To be honest, I’m not sure how anyone gets anything done with this thing. I think it’s well past its prime.”

Because really, if I’m thinking like an owner, I’m thinking about how much it costs my company when I’m sitting there copying the same piece of paper 50 times to get three good copies–it wastes a hell of a lot of paper, takes me away from more important projects, and kills my productivity for the rest of the day.

Three hours, two packages of paper and a silent tear later, my friend and officemate asked me how the siege turned out. I told her I’d just stopped short of pulling the skin off my face. The copier had won.
“Well, you know the CEO bought that thing off eBay, right?”

eBay. I’ll be goddamned. I mean…office equipment…those are fixed assets, right? I’m all for saving a buck, but seriously. Get Office Max in here to hook us up. Let us not waste our lives time on defunct office equipment. Not like I’m Serious Smee, but that’s not what I show up to work for.

[Jam of the Day]: Zack de la Rocha ft. DJ Shadow, March of Death

Posterchild for Defunct Office Equipment

I’m a lot like that weird, placid Dyson guy: I just think things should work properly.

Which is why I was quite irate over having to spend my entire morning copying documents on our ineffectual xerox machine.

Sure, I had a lot of stuff to copy (literally, United Way, I love you guys but get your stuff together and let people submit award apps online. Sheesh.) but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t be getting a COPY 303:45 ERROR (paper jam, tray two) every time I copy a single sheet of paper.

The copier, as it turns out, is also positioned right outside the CEO’s office. So he had a clear view of my frustration as I searched for jammed paper, turned the thing on and off, unplugged it, waited five minutes, plugged it back in, and so on. He’d look over his computer screen at me once in awhile and say things like, “Can I help?” and “Do you need a hand?” And I’d say things like, “Sure; if you have the power to perform miracles,” and “Only if you have a baseball bat.”

Around 11, the CEO emerged from his office and stood next to me.

“It’s still giving you a hard time, huh,” he said sheepishly.
I was covered in yellow post-its, hair a-frazzle. I nodded. Then I said, “To be honest, I’m not sure how anyone gets anything done with this thing. I think it’s well past its prime.”

Because really, if I’m thinking like an owner, I’m thinking about how much it costs my company when I’m sitting there copying the same piece of paper 50 times to get three good copies–it wastes a hell of a lot of paper, takes me away from more important projects, and kills my productivity for the rest of the day.

Three hours, two packages of paper and a silent tear later, my friend and officemate asked me how the siege turned out. I told her I’d just stopped short of pulling the skin off my face. The copier had won.
“Well, you know the CEO bought that thing off eBay, right?”

eBay. I’ll be goddamned. I mean…office equipment…those are fixed assets, right? I’m all for saving a buck, but seriously. Get Office Max in here to hook us up. Let us not waste our lives time on defunct office equipment. Not like I’m Serious Smee, but that’s not what I show up to work for.

[Jam of the Day]: Zack de la Rocha ft. DJ Shadow, March of Death