Customer Service Experience: CharityHowTo

One of my supervisors, Bob Bergstrom, recommended me the CharityHowTo website to attend webinars about non-profits. I purchased a gold membership for $89 per month which includes access to recorded webinars.

So ideally, if I select a recorded webinar it should be included in my membership. But due to some glitch, they were charging me again for the webinar and for the gold membership (which I am already getting charged for every month).

Obviously, it was very confusing. I tried to contact their customer service with a 617- (Boston) number. The first two times I tried, it went to voicemail. Then, someone named Amy called back on my number. She promised they wouldn't charge me twice and I should be able to access my library free of charge.

Not only that, the owner, Kurt Steiner,  talked to me after that.

Me: So, are you in Boston?
Kurt: We had an office in Boston, but we are in Panama in Central America now. I see you have a 617 number too.
Me: I went to school there.
Kurt: I apologize again for this. I have sent an email and left a voicemail for you. Our engineers are taking care of it as we speak. Is there anything else I can do?
Me: No, Amy took care of me. Thanks !
Kurt: Great! You have a great weekend!
Me: You have a good one too!

Nice, human conversation when I was expecting pre-recorded messages.

I know it becomes difficult for larger corporations to stay in touch with their customers. Hence, what we call 'the moments of truth' in customer service becomes increasingly negative.  Before the interaction, I was considering canceling my membership. Now, I know that someone feels responsible for the glitch and are trying to fix it.  Sometimes, that is enough. 

Our story so far

Sometimes, I remember our initial days together as PIGS: Poor Indian Graduate Students. We hardly had the time to meet even once a week, and dating meant listening to music on his iPod while sitting on the rocks by the bay at Harbor Point in the evening or catching an occasional movie together in Downtown Loews. There were times when I was not even sure if this was serious. I had a different set of expectations from a 'boyfriend.'

However, every time we met, I felt a strange sense of peace sweep over me. I felt that I could live with him even if he had to bask with his keyboard at Park Street Station and we had only spam sandwiches every meal. He could make me laugh like no one else could. He would say the most absurd thing in a conversation and bubbles of laughter would spill on my lips. It is not an easy feat because my humor is very selective.

Some very close people (now nowhere in my life) advised me that 'You can do better than him! You are pursuing an MBA; you will earn a lot soon. You might want someone who earns more than you.'

Thank God I knew what I wanted and what I didn't.  My Dad always said that marry someone for the person they are, not for their bank balance. When I married him, he had a debt from relocating from Boston to San Jose for his new job. I was a little worried, but I felt that together we could work off that debt. And we did. In fact, he did it on his own.

I saw him working crazy hours. Trying this, trying that. Keeping hope alive in our life. I saw that sincerity and goodwill can help you earn a place in the world where strangers respect you for the work you do. Our struggles are not over yet, but we have a come to a comfortable position where we can experience life in a certain way.

Most young couples struggle to stay afloat. If you listen to your parents, they will tell you how they survived on a meager salary of 500 INR every month and even managed to shoulder responsibilities of their big families with it. Maybe the thing that kept them together was their shared history of less resourceful days.

Maybe we respect the person who stood by us even at our worst and we believe that they deserve to be beside us when things look up. Maybe love isn't just a storm of passion sweeping us off our feet, but gradual understanding and respect that develop over the years. And though things can't always be sunny, we can take comfort in the memories in the rainy days and dream of a more beautiful future together.

The Other Radha

Krishna was reigning supreme in Dwarka with Rukmini. The divine engineer Vishwakarma had built a golden city on the right bank of River Gomti. Dwarka, meaning 'the gateway to Heaven' was fit to be the abode of the Gods. The outer gates of the fort opened to the sea. In the rays of the setting sun, it looked like the flames of Agni Dev (The God of Fire) had risen from the sea to create a magical realm. The citizens prospered, and so did the city. Mansions made of the finest marble had doors and windows embellished with gold, silver, and precious gemstones.  Peacocks danced to their delight next to ponds filled with fragrant lotuses.

But Krishna was not happy. There was a hounding feeling that he had forgotten something. Something important. He had forgotten his promises to Radha.
*
Radha sat on the banks of River Yamuna in Vrindavan, lost in the thoughts of her beloved cowherd. It had been years since she had last seen him, but the sound of his flute still filled her mind and her heart. Occasionally, she danced to music only she could hear and embraced tamal trees thinking it was her dark-skinned beau.

The Gopis could not bear her plight anymore. Latika, Vishaka, Chitra and the others loved Krishna with great devotion, but they also knew that Radha was special. She would wither and die if she didn’t see her Lord soon. They convinced her to go to Dwarka to meet him.

Radha: But will he remember me?

*
In the sabha (courtroom), Krishna barely recognized her. The lusciousness of her youth drained in years of solitude. No shringar (grooming). She looked like a flower the gardener had taken great care to bloom but had then forgotten all about her.

Radha appealed to Krishna, ’Lord, I am an unfortunate woman from Vrindavan. My Lord has forgotten me and I have no means to live. Let me be your dasi (servant) and live the rest of my days in peace. I promise to ask for nothing more than Your Lordship’s happiness.’

Krishna smiled benignly at the strange request of the strange woman. Radha commenced serving Krishna and Rukmini in the palace. Sometimes, she stole a glance of the Lord and smiled. Content just to be near him. How enthralling his smile was! It made her feel that there was no pain in the world. No sadness, no grief, no illness. He is Manohar after all. He steals hearts with his smile.

But with years of intense hard work and a broken heart, Radha fell severely ill. When she realized that she had very little time to live, she embarked upon a journey to the banks of Yamuna of Vrindavan.

Krishna, missing his favorite dasi, got to know that she had left the palace for her home.
He remembered something from the days he was a young cowherd. The sounds of the anklets of a fair maiden. The companion of his Raasleela.

He commandeered a chariot and started in the general direction of Vrindavan, his childhood home. He found her lying under a tree, breathing wearily. He ran down to her side, took her head in his lap while tears rolled down his eyes.

Krishna: Why didn’t you tell me Sakhi?

Radha smiled faintly as her vision blurred with tears.

***

This is a take on one of the most revered lovers of Hindu mythology- Radha and Krishna. It is said that Radha spent her last days waiting for Krishna by the River Yamuna. What if she had gone to Dwarka to see him. Would it have been any better?

I had fun imagining it. Hope you liked reading it.

Why strong is the new beautiful

We often fantasize about working out. Some of us are disciplined enough to continue our regime even on the busiest of days. However, today I read a motivational story about the unexpected consequence of staying fit.

A woman who lives in the US got a call from her sister in April that her father is not well. When she visited him in Delhi, she learned that he had been diagnosed with the final stage of lung cancer. She decided to spend the last few months with him. He was frail from the illness and unable to go even to the restroom on his own. She lifted him and carried him when no one else in the family could. Her strength was from regular exercise that she had started only a few months prior. Maybe she was preparing herself even before she knew. Unfortunately, her father passed away. But she will always be content to know that she could help.

Similarly, I was happy to read about the woman who carried her fiance to safety after they had a hiking accident. He had fallen off a ledge and broken his leg. Waiting for help would have resulted in further blood loss. She decided to take the matter in her hands. Quite literally. And that saved both his limb and life. I thought- what a lucky man! Wish I could be a woman like that. Of course, the adrenaline rush helped. But she needed the mental strength along with the physical stamina.

Gone are the days when dainty was beautiful. Women nowadays are strong, capable both physically and financially. The soccer mom who shuttles her kids in an SUV from one activity to another, the daughter who cares for her aging parents/in-laws, the wife who offers to pay the bills- are now the ne plus ultra of muliebrity.

Thoughts after watching the Hindi movie Pink

We watched Pink last night. I asked SG what was his takeaway from the movie. He thinks it tries to convey that we should treat everyone equally-man or woman. He was referring to the double-standards of society when it comes to judging 'character' from habits. For example, drinking, smoking, partying are indications of loose morals for girls, while boys are just having fun. Pre-marital sex is a mark of a whore but when boys do it -it is the mark of a man.

What enrages me most is the sense of entitlement some of these bastards have. I have always held the opinion that if you need to force yourself upon a woman/man, you are worse than an animal. Even they have courtship and mating rituals.

The movie also dug up some memories of my time in NCR. During undergrads, a stalker used to bother me by calling up on my phone asking me to meet him, threatening to kidnap me if I didn't agree. When I discussed the matter with one of my father's colleagues- a well-respected senior police officer- he advised me to keep a low profile. Kya zaroorat hai (dance) program karne ki?

That day I realized the degree of bias people have when it comes to women who seek help. That man had two daughters himself. I kept wondering if he would have said the same to his daughters. I am sad to say that he probably would have.

So, the best thing to do is keep a low profile, keep your head down, eyes glued to the street. Become invisible. Because God forbid, if someone notices you, they might think they are entitled to your body, your dignity, your consent.

Consent. This is another thing that people need to be educated about. Even a street walker or your wife can withdraw her consent for physical intimacy. If a girl agrees first, then changes her mind- it is still a 'No'. If a girl is intoxicated and can not verbally give consent, you should stop. Saying 'No' is not a game. She is NOT playing hard to get.

That brings me to the Code of Behavior for Girls: Don't laugh. Don't be yourself. Don't blink. If some twisted pervert sees this as an invitation and something untoward happens, you will get to hear: Aisi ladkiyon ke saath aisa hi hota hai.

Why I wear makeup

I don't think I am unpleasant without makeup. In fact, I feel that I look my best in the morning after a good night's sleep. I like going out without it most of the times. But with an eyeliner and a lip-stain, I feel more vibrant. Happy. Ready to take on the world.

So, anyone who wants to shame you for it can go you-know-where. Even the most well-meaning people will say,'You look pale,' when you are not wearing any makeup.

Also, women are still judged by the way we look. So, don't try to preach us when we try to look good and mislabel it as 'vanity'. We are not doing it for your attention. We are doing it to feel good. And there is no reason or occasion necessary. I might try on a new gloss and go for a run - just because I want to.

P.S. The post isn't a reaction to any personal experience. Just a reflection on general attitudes.

Loss (flash fiction)

The kid would have been three years this August.

I still remember the day when my Obstetrician/Gynecologist examined me with great patience and explained what I saw on the screen: 'There’s no heartbeat. It is not alive.'

It took a while to sink in. 'Are you sure?' My husband asked.

The doctor appeared slightly offended,' I have never given a wrong diagnosis in 25 years of my career.'

He had a right to feel hurt. He was the Chief Ob/Gyn in a reputed hospital and a philanthropist.

I was eight weeks pregnant and had known of its existence since the sixth week. The pregnancy test showed a 'plus' on the strip and at once fear, incredulity, and anticipation paralyzed me. I showed it to my husband, aware that we were not ready for a kid. We hadn't talked about it. He jumped with joy, hugged me, and started kissing me like I had given the best news of his life. I sighed with relief. He seemed happier than I was.

But soon, I started feeling strange. I didn't 'feel' pregnant, even though the hormone levels in my urine did. I started dreaming of dead relatives and grew increasingly superstitious about it. My late grandma asked to see my baby in my dreams. Was she preparing me to let go?

The doctor gave us some time to mourn and left the room. My husband remained stoic, hugging me while I wept. Then he took me to my salon appointment. I had a long-due haircut and a pedicure. I let those people work on me without really enjoying it. They knew something was wrong when they saw dry tears on my face. I didn’t want to explain. I painted my nails blue.

Later in the evening, he took me out to a concert we had been looking forward to for months. I wanted to skip it, but he insisted that we should go. I slept through the first half of the show when the supporting band performed the opening act.

Soon Muse took over and started singing ‘Unsustainable’. When they sang ‘Hysteria’ I wanted to scream too. It wasn’t sadness anymore; it was rage. The splendid lasers and visual aesthetics evolved with every song, sometimes into a stock market ticker, at others a roulette wheel that selected ‘New Born.'

He reminded me that it was my one of my favorite songs from the movie Haute Tension. I couldn’t remember it. I felt tired and wanted to leave for home. The smell of beer and the sweat of the crowd- everything got mixed into an overpowering odor that choked me. There were still a couple of songs left when I urged to leave before the crowd broke out of Oracle Arena.

We drove back home, and I called my mother, talking only about the concert until she asked ‘What did the doctor say?’ I was hoping to stall the news till she reached home from work – it was just past noon in India. But I told her anyway. I can’t lie to her. She kept quiet. Maybe it was better that she was busy when she got the news.

At night, before going to sleep, I talked to 'it' out of habit. I knew it couldn’t listen then; it couldn’t listen now. But I had to tell it I loved it through the two weeks I knew it. However, I had to let it go.