By Dorothy Rosby

I’m trying a new approach to New Year’s resolutions this year. Instead of worrying about everything I’d like to change about myself, I’m going focus on what I’d like other people to change. That’s right. This year I’m making New Year’s resolutions for everyone else. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. It’s a lot more fun than the old way and I’m sure it will be every bit as effective.

For starters, I hereby resolve that hackers and identity thieves will use their considerable talents to contribute to society by pursuing legal employment. And if they don’t, I resolve that law enforcement officials will track them down and put them behind bars where they’ll be forced to listen to robo calls all day, every day for the rest of their sorry lives.

And I resolve that spammers will stop spamming, scammers will stop scamming and litterers will stop littering. And I resolve that those who spit their gum on the sidewalk will be the ones who step on it later.

I resolve that TV viewers will begin questioning everything that comes out of the mouths of well-paid political pundits and if they have any questions about who and what they should really believe, they can call me and I’ll tell them.

Likewise I resolve that social media users will stop believing everything they read on Facebook and Twitter and that they’ll refrain from sharing mean-spirited political memes and political rants—unless I agree with them.

And speaking of politics, I resolve that all eligible voters will vote in the next election. Or at least all eligible voters who see things my way will vote in the next election.

I hereby resolve that shoppers will no longer pick up items in one aisle, change their minds and leave said items in another aisle. I sympathize. I change my mind occasionally too. In fact the last time I went shopping I picked up a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips in aisle five and was overcome with guilt by the time I reached the produce department. But I got over it.

I resolve that as of January 1, other customers will cease unloading more items than are allowed in the express line and that they’ll refrain from pointing it out if I do it.

And I resolve that shoppers will return their carts to the proper spot after they finish unloading their groceries instead of leaving them in the middle of the parking lot where I can back into them.

I resolve that other drivers will stop parking so close to the line in the parking lot that they can’t help dinging my door when they get out of their car. And I resolve they’ll find another parking place if it’s me who parked too close to the line.

And finally I resolve that no one will ever again text and drive, drink and drive or get in my way when I drive. And that nobody will call me or come knocking at my door while I’m eating or sleeping, which I realize is a wide target. And that anyone who speaks on their cellphone within earshot of me will have the courtesy to make it an interesting conversation.

So there you have it:  my new approach to making New Year’s resolutions. It’s brilliant, isn’t it? I think it will catch on. Soon everyone will be making resolutions for other people, and not just for strangers but also for close friends and family. There are so many possibilities.

“I resolve that you’ll stop interrupting.”

“Yeah? Well, I resolve that you’ll stop talking when I’m trying to interrupt.”

“I resolve that you’ll quit telling me how to drive.”

“And I resolve that you’ll learn to drive better.”

“I resolve that you’ll go back to making New Year’s resolutions the old way.” “And I resolve that you’ll learn to appreciate constructive criticism.”

Excerpt from ’Tis the Season to Feel Inadequate, Holidays, Special Occasions and Other Times Our Celebrations Get Out of Hand by Dorothy Rosby, now available at Mitzi’s Books in Rapid City and on Amazon in both print and e-book versions.

By Dorothy Rosby

You can’t tell by looking at my wrapping, but I was once a professional gift wrapper. Sort of. When I was a teenager, I worked at a hardware store in my hometown, Buffalo, South Dakota. Buffalo had a population of around 350 people and was many miles from a department store. Also I was in high school before the days of online shopping—about a hundred years before the days of online shopping. So the hardware store carried a variety of housewares, toys and other items that were often purchased for gift giving. We also had a fabulous selection of wrapping paper and bows but only a few people on staff who could really do them justice. I wasn’t one of them.

Practice should make perfect and I wrapped many gifts, but they always had those big bulges on the sides of the package where the paper comes together—like I accidentally wrapped a hammer in there, which I may have once or twice. Even today I turn a gift on its side and put a big bow on the lump to cover it up.

But I can finally feel good about my wrapping, and not because it’s gotten better. Recently I’ve read about several studies that suggest attractive gift wrapping can backfire by leading the receiver to anticipate an equally attractive gift. That means that when they open your beautifully wrapped package and find an egg slicer or a hair removal device, they’re bound to be disappointed. They might be disappointed anyway.

But researchers say fancy wrapping can even dim the enthusiasm of someone receiving a nice gift. Meanwhile, mediocre wrapping can enhance the joy of receiving any gift because the wrapping hasn’t built up expectations, though I don’t think anything could enhance the joy of receiving a hair remover or an egg slicer.

It makes sense really. Imagine that a month before Christmas you receive a gift that’s been professionally wrapped in gold metallic wrapping paper with a red satin ribbon and a giant bow. You see it under your tree every day and you can’t help imagining all the wonderful things that could be in that package. Crystal? A new camera? A hundred-dollar bill and a big rock to add weight to the package? You can’t wait for Christmas!

Finally, it’s time. You tear into the package prepared to be wowed, and you find…a hot dog cooker or a snow cone maker. Naturally you’re disappointed. Who wants snow cones in December?

If these studies had been done back when I was a professional gift wrapper it would have saved me a lot of embarrassment. I could have handed my customers their lumpy packages and said, “If your wife is disappointed that you bought mixing bowls for her birthday, don’t blame me.”

According to one researcher there’s an exception to the gift wrap rule, and that’s when the value of your gift isn’t obvious. For example, let’s say you’re giving your teenager the $1.3 million Diamond Crypto Smartphone. If she thinks the diamonds are cubic zirconia she might carelessly misplace her phone under her bed or accidentally throw it in with the dirty laundry. In order to signal that the gift actually does have great value you should definitely have it professionally wrapped. You should also have your head examined.

For gifts valued at less than $1.3 million, consider more humble wrapping:

• Wrap your gift in newspaper, being careful to avoid the obituary page.
• Wrap it in brown paper and tie it up with string while humming a verse of “My Favorite Things.”
• Make the wrapping part of the gift. For example, use a tea towel to wrap a package of kitchen sponges.
• Go wrapless—the gift, not you.
• My personal favorite though, is the gift bag. Gift bags are attractive but not so much that they raise my expectations. They don’t require any special wrapping skill when I go to reuse them later. And they make it easy for me to peek.

Excerpt from ’Tis the Season to Feel Inadequate, Holidays, Special Occasions and Other Times Our Celebrations Get Out of Hand now available at Mitzi’s Books in downtown Rapid City and on Amazon.

By Dorothy Rosby

First-timers to the fitness scene are often tempted to ask other exercisers how long they’ve been at it. This question can be interpreted in two ways: Number one, “Maybe if I stick with this as long as you have, I’ll look as good as you do.” Or two, “Wow! You must have looked really bad before?”

I can’t speak for men, but at the gym, like everywhere else, we women tend to compare ourselves to others and we usually come up short—or tall, or fat or thin, though seldom thin. Because comparing yourself to the wrong person can result in a self-esteem-induced craving for cream puffs, I recommend the following when you’re in the company of other exercisers:

Never compare yourself to anyone who puts on make-up to work out. Believe it or not, there are women who shower before they exercise. Or at least, they appear to. They fix their hair and put on jewelry and fashionable, coordinated workout clothing. I don’t know about yours, but the clothes I wear to work don’t even match.

Never compare yourself to a newlywed or even a newly in-love. Romance causes certain chemical changes in a woman’s brain that result in decreased appetite. A newly in-love woman can keep a box of chocolates until they’re stale and turn up her nose at an apple pie. Fortunately, by her second anniversary she’s regained her sanity—and with it much of the weight she lost.

Never compare yourself to what I call a “mathematician.” A mathematician is someone who can tell you at any given moment what her weight and percentage of body fat are and how many calories and fat grams she’s eaten thus far that day. This can be discouraging if you’re pretty sure you consumed as much during your coffee break.

Never compare yourself to a chronic dieter. If she catches you looking at her she may kill you. She hates exercise and she’s cranky because she hasn’t eaten all day. But she has made up her mind to exercise daily and survive on lettuce and diet soda until she is a size six. She will stick with this regimen for three days and lose five pounds. Then on day four, exhausted, famished, and discouraged, she will leave the gym and go directly to the bakery where she will have not one, but two seven-layer bars. After this, you won’t see her at the gym for a very long time, although you may see her at the bakery. Don’t look at her there either.

Finally, never compare yourself to a “convert;” that is someone who once ate large quantities of fried white sugar and now eats only whole grains and organic vegetables. I recently overheard two such individuals talking about how they could never return to their former abhorrent lifestyles. But both admitted there are still some things from their shameful pasts that tempt them. One woman said bacon bits actually call out her name from salad bars.

“What does?” the other said innocently.

“Bacon bits,” said the first.

“Bacon what?”

The woman had never heard of bacon bits. Is that possible in America? Hearing their conversation made me long for a BLT. Extra bacon, extra mayo, hold the lettuce.

If you must compare, compare yourself to the way you were before you started exercising (unless it was better). And if you absolutely must compare yourself to someone else, choose someone in worse shape than you are—me for example. I wear baggy sweats and a ragged tee shirt when I exercise. The last time my abs were flat, I was eight years old. And, by golly, I know bacon bits when I see them.

Dorothy Rosby is a blogger and humor columnist whose column appears regularly in publications throughout the West and Midwest. She’s the author of four books of humorous including ’Tis the Season to Feel Inadequate; Holidays, Special Occasions and Other Times Our Celebrations Get Out of Hand, now available at Mitzi’s Books in Rapid City and on Amazon in both print and ebook versions.

By Dorothy Rosby

The secret to career success can be summed up in six little words: Fake It ‘Til You Make It. I’ve read many Fake-It-’Til-You-Make-It tips in business publications, and while it should be fairly obvious that none of them have worked for me, I’m going to share them with you anyway.

1. First of all, you must dress for the job you want, not the job you have. Or, to put it another way, look the part, even if you don’t have the part. I’m quite happy with the job I have, but I work at home which is lucky. My dress code could give the impression to anyone in an office setting that I’d like to teach aerobics for a living.

2. You’ll also want to appear busy and in demand, even if you aren’t. That’s why you should never admit that your appointment book is empty. When trying to set up an appointment with a colleague, study your blank calendar, shake your head, and say, “Hmmmm. . . no . . . maybe. . . I might be able to stop by at 10 o’clock on Tuesday. But to be safe, let’s make it 10:15 or even 10:16.” You can see how that would inspire more confidence in a potential business associate than if you said, “My week is wide open. In fact, other than a dentist appointment on Wednesday and lunch with my mom on Friday, I don’t have a single thing going.”

3. On your way up the corporate ladder, you’ll eventually find yourself dining in the presence of other successful people—or fakers, as the case may be. Nothing I read on the subject put it quite this way, but I think the rule for dining on a first date applies to business dining as well: Never order anything that comes with a wet wipe.

4. A small amount of messiness in your office implies friendliness, but too much clutter may cause your visitors to believe you don’t care what they think—which may be true. On the other hand, too clean of an office conveys coldness as well as the impression that you don’t have enough work to do, the danger being that a co-worker might give you some of hers.

5. Walking too slowly in the workplace also gives the impression that you don’t have enough to do. On the other hand, running around like the proverbial chicken with her head cut off may give the impression that you’re disorganized and have no authority, since, as you know, chickens have almost no say in the workplace. I find this one confusing, so I just ask myself how Oprah walks into her office. I’m pretty sure the answer is any way she wants to.

6. Speak up at meetings. Career experts say that employees who speak up first at meetings are seen as more self-confident than those who make comments at the end. So jump right in. Talk about your weekend if that’s all you can think of.

7. Finally, experts agree, you should start earlier and work later than the boss. That means that around 4:30, you should ask your supervisor, “What time do you think you’ll be leaving today? And any idea when you’ll be here in the morning?”

Dorothy Rosby is a blogger and humor columnist whose column appears regularly in publications throughout the West and Midwest. She’s the author of four books of humorous including ’Tis the Season to Feel Inadequate; Holidays, Special Occasions and Other Times Our Celebrations Get Out of Hand, coming in November 2022.  

By Dorothy Rosby

I once ordered antivirus software online. As it turned out, it would have been easier and more pleasant to have a virus.

I was unable to download the software so I emailed the support desk for help. Then several days later I emailed again. When no help was forthcoming, I purchased another brand and emailed the first company asking for a refund.

Then they offered to help. Then they couldn’t find any record of my order. Then they asked me to tell them what happened. Then they asked me to tell them again.

After more than a month and a dozen emails back and forth, they sent me a message saying, “Unfortunately, these issues are best resolved over the phone. Please call at your convenience.”

They must have meant at their convenience because they didn’t include a toll-free number and they left me on hold for twenty minutes—twice. Eventually I was able to speak to an actual human, or so I thought. I’ll call him SJ for “Smug Jerk”—because he was one, not because it’s his name. I forgot that, but his mother probably even calls him Smug Jerk.

Anyway, his helpful response was, “You’re past the thirty-day refund period.”

“But I’ve been emailing your company for thirty days.”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s our policy.”

Customer service rule #1: Never say, “That’s our policy.” Even if it is. The only thing more infuriating to a customer is spitting on them. SJ probably would have done that too if he weren’t far away, hiding in his little cubicle in the bowels of some giant tech firm.

SJ said his supervisor would email me the next day. I told him I’d rather give him my phone number.

“He won’t call.”

“Why not? Your email said these issues are best resolved by phone.”

“Only within thirty days.”

That’s when I did something that I normally reserve only for the people I love: I yelled at SJ. I told him his customer service skills stink, his company stinks and his cubicle probably stinks too. Actually I don’t remember what I said, but I know it did nothing to change his company’s policy.

And he was right. His supervisor didn’t call. Nor did he email. And I’m still waiting for my refund.

The experience led me to contemplate other customer service nightmares I’ve endured. (I’ve probably been on the giving end of some as well, but I don’t have that much space.)

I was calling the lone hotel in a town I would be visiting the following week. When I said, “I’ll be arriving next Thursday—that’s Thanksgiving,” the proprietress said, “I am well aware of that.” On Thanksgiving I checked into the motel, which I now fondly refer to as the Bates Motel. I commented on her lovely grandchildren who happened to be playing in the lobby. “Yes,” she said icily, “Even people who own hotels have families.”

I was getting the feeling she didn’t want to be there on the holiday. Oddly enough, at that point, I didn’t either. Which leads me to customer service rule #2: The person who has the money you want should be led to believe that you’re happy to see them—whether or not you are.

And finally customer service rule #3: If the customer is upset, give them something free. This rule is also known as: If you work at a gas station that sells watered-down gas to an easily-annoyed customer on a very hot day, and that easily-annoyed customer walks the mile back to your station not once but twice, and while she’s waiting for a tow, that easily-annoyed customer would like a cold drink, never say: “that will be a dollar and 75 cents.” (I’m not easily annoyed, but otherwise this story is entirely true.)

Of course, I’ve had some wonderful customer service too. Back in the days of landlines, I had a cordless phone die after only a few days of use. I called the manufacturer on my cellphone, worried that since I’d screamed at a stranger on the telephone once, it would be easier to do it again.

A recording told me that because of the volume of inquiries, callers were waiting an average of twelve minutes on hold that day, and that if I didn’t have time to wait, I should call later. The recording was a nice idea—but I timed them anyway.

Eight minutes later a very nice man came on the line. He quickly diagnosed the problem as a bad battery and promised to send me a new one, which he did—at no charge.

Alas, the battery was not the problem. Who cares? What customer service!

Dorothy Rosby is a blogger and humor columnist whose column appears regularly in publications throughout the West and Midwest. She’s the author of three books of humorous essays all available locally at Mitzi’s Books and on Amazon.

 Dorothy Rosby

Author of Alexa’s a Spy and Other Things to Be Ticked off About

www.dorothyrosby.com

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By Dorothy Rosby

According to the manufacturers of Cascade dishwashing detergent, using a dishwasher to wash your dishes saves 30 minutes a day over handwashing them. I read a fascinating article on the subject while I was wandering around the internet today frittering away the half hour I’d just saved using my dishwasher.

The author went on to say that we save 230 hours a year by letting our dishwashers do the work. I wasted another half hour trying to understand how saving 30 minutes a day washing dishes would save me 230 hours a year. It doesn’t add up, even when you count leap year. The only thing I can figure is that some dishwashers also clear the table, load and unload themselves and put the clean dishes away. 

Mine doesn’t do any of that, but at least I have that extra half hour every time I use my dishwasher. The question is, what am I doing with it? And what am I doing with all the time my other modern conveniences are supposedly saving me? Theoretically, I should have all sorts of free time to accomplish great things—or nap.

I have a washer and dryer so I don’t have to spend entire afternoons beating my clothes on a rock and hanging them up to dry. My refrigerator defrosts itself so I don’t have to stand in front of it for hours with a hairdryer and an ice pick. Quicken saves me 10 or 15 hours every month balancing my checkbook. I know that sounds like a lot, but I’m not any better at math than the good people at Cascade are. 

I even save time every day not tying my tennis shoes because they have Velcro fasteners. This is lucky because I spend so much time looking for them. 

I won’t try to tally up all the hours my modern conveniences are saving me because I can’t find my cellphone. Among its many timesaving apps is a built-in calculator which saves me a lot of time adding and subtracting—when I can find it.

The point is, I should have a lot of extra time. So why don’t I? I can’t be spending it all looking for my cellphone and my tennis shoes.

To make sense of it, I went to Google, that fount of all knowledge and time waster of epic proportions. I was horrified by what I found. One article said that if we’re average, we use two and a half hours every weekday going through our personal email. They didn’t break it down, but I estimate two hours and 20 minutes of that are spent deleting spam.

One website claimed the average American spends more than two hours a day on social media which means social media has replaced solitaire as the most common way to avoid doing actual work on the computer.

Another website said we spend just over three hours per day watching television and more than four and a half hours a week looking for our remotes. That’s about 40 minutes a day looking for our remote if my math is correct. It may not be because I still haven’t found my cellphone. I’m just lucky I have a dishwasher otherwise I wouldn’t have time to look for our remote.

Suddenly I understood. When it comes to time, technology giveth and technology taketh away. And some technology taketh a lot more than it giveth. It only took all the time my dishwasher, washing machine and Velcro tennis shoes have saved me over the last month and a half to figure that out. 

Dorothy Rosby is a blogger and humor columnist whose column appears regularly in publications throughout the West and Midwest. She’s the author of three books of humorous essays all available locally at Mitzi’s Books and on Amazon.