What I've Been Writing Lately.....

 Just in case you've been wondering the type of things I've been writing lately, here's something that demands a blog post. Officially sending this to AT&T headquarters in Dallas, TX. See how versatile I am? haha.

To whom it may concern:

My name is Hope Howell. I am a 23-year-old graduate student from Conyers, GA currently living in Athens, GA. I share a 2-bedroom apartment with my roommate, Meredith, who is also a full-time graduate student at the University of Georgia. We became AT&T customers in August after purchasing a 6-month AT&T U-Verse promotional offer. After much distress and deliberation, I feel compelled to report my extremely disappointing and disconcerting experience with your company. 

[Before I explain my experience as a customer, it is necessary to preface my testimony by declaring that I was initially a supporter and satisfied patron of AT&T. After all, I was an AT&T cell phone customer until my father decided to switch family plans to Verizon; during my family’s contract with AT&T, I don’t remember having any major problems or issues with our AT&T service to speak of.] 

I moved into my current apartment in August of 2011. My roommate Meredith, who had also lived in the apartment the year before, said that her name was already on the water and electric bill and asked if I would mind taking care of the cable. Of course, I agreed. She then advised me not to renew the contract with our current cable provider, Charter, claiming the customer service was terrible and both the consistency and strength of the wireless was unpredictable. 

As I began to research cable providers, I soon realized that for whatever reason AT&T and Charter essentially have a monopoly in the Athens, GA area. AT&T’s prices were a little steeper than we had agreed to pay, but the customer service representative for AT&T told me that we could subscribe to a 6-month plan (which we could cancel at any time we were dissatisfied) and that when the offer expired, we could sign up for another promotional sale for the remaining 6 months. The price was still a challenge, but my roommate and I agreed that we were willing to pay the extra amount because we were convinced that AT&T would make up for these prices with their customer service and reliable product. After all, signing up with AT&T was so quick and easy, there were no binding contracts like its competitors and as students with three part-time jobs each, we liked the idea of not having a bill until after almost three weeks of having the service. 

The only challenge was that while I signed up for service August 17^th, due to AT&T’s high demand in the area –particularly with the influx of new student/apartment orders - the AT&T crew could not install our cable until September 15^th at the earliest. However, when I told the customer service representative that we were graduate students who deeply relied on wireless internet 24/7 to complete numerous research assignments, not to mention correspond online to our professors, employers and clients, the female representative assured me that she could get our apartment a earlier installation date. She explained that the person that could handle this, Mr. Edward Grant, was out of the office, but she gave me his number and said that he would sort everything out for me. The following day, I called Mr. Grant and left a voicemail, but did not hear back for three days. On the fourth day, with the first week of school approaching, I called again, only to hear “MAILBOX FULL.” 

After two weeks, I knew this express-installation offer was a pipedream. I checked my cable installation date online and we were still scheduled for Sept. 15^th. Again, we knew it would be a L-O-N-G month without TV or internet, but Meredith and I agreed it would be worth it in the end. 

Even now, two months later, I am STILL waiting for Mr. Grant to return my calls.

FOR AN ENTIRE MONTH, my roommate and I stayed late in the libraries on campus to open .pdfs and research our assignments; we begged the receptionist of our apartment complex to let us use their computer to check our emails from our professors and employers; we even had to stop by friends’ apartments to see the president address the nation on television. Through all these efforts, we told ourselves to be patient, and that if we could just hold on until Sept. 15^th, AT&T would swoop in and save the day, installing the much-needed wireless and cable we paid for. 

Unfortunately, on Sept. 8^th I received notice from the varsity softball coach where Meredith and I work that our athletic director had scheduled a game for our JV softball team on the afternoon of Sept. 15^th. Having that date already burned in my brain, I automatically knew that meant neither I nor Meredith could be there for the installation. I immediately began to call AT&T, hoping they could help us or offer some advice regarding our situation. Surely someone else has been in this position before, I thought. 

After being transferred to eight different departments and memorizing the twenty-step “press 1 for…” dial procedure every time I got disconnected from customer service, I guess I thought wrong. Each time I would explain that neither residents of the apartment could be present for the agreed installation date, but we had already been waiting a month for this installation, and asked if there was ANY possible way to either reschedule for a later date, move the time of installation that day, or even see if the installation could take place without both of us present. It seemed as though your customer service staff had never been asked to adjust an appointment before. After having to explain who I was and my conflict situation for every single operator I was transferred to (each one, SUPPOSEDLY more specifically qualified to handle my case than the last), I was hoping to get some sort of informed assistance. However, all I received were disclaimers and asinine comments like “Ma’am, I wouldn’t know who to ask about that,” and “See, I’m just in an office in North Carolina, I don’t know anything about what they’re doing in Georgia…” and so forth. THESE ARE DIRECT QUOTES from different departments. My favorite moment: when I suggested possibly rescheduling for a later date, the male operator looked at the installation schedule and laughed at me, saying “OH NO GIRL, that’s crazy, you don’t wanna do that….it’ll take forever ’til they come back.” These people work for you, correct? Call me crazy, but I was under the impression that a professional customer service operator should not tease the customer, much less joke about the shoddy service of the company they are supposed to represent. 

No one knew who to contact, what to ask, or what the actual protocol for this situation was. It seems to me there is absolutely ZERO communication between those signing up customers, those contracted to install the service and those expected to handle customer service issues.  Even when I asked if they had the number of the company or the contracted professionals that were supposed to be coming to my home (in hopes of explaining my situation to them, and possibly working out a compromise firsthand), the representative replied that AT&T had no way of knowing who or how many people would be coming to install that day. 

Well, that-as a customer and as a young, single female letting complete strangers in my home- just makes me feel incredibly safe. 

Yes, you are a large company. Yes, the office operations in North Carolina may run differently than the offices in Georgia – but you all work for the SAME COMPANY. It’s my understanding that customer service individuals should be both knowledgeable and prepared not only to understand potential customer service issues, but to also communicate those policies to the customer with professionalism and courtesy. I wasn’t asking them to perform a miracle for me. I understood that AT&T and I had an agreement for Sept. 15^th – I also understood that if anything had to change, the legwork would have to come from my end. However, for me to call several times and speak to countless people only to hear “You know, I don’t know….” ---  I couldn’t even help myself if I wanted to, because no one could provide any answers.

Finally, I reached a customer service representative who eased all my fears. He told me that it would not be wise to ask for a later date, and that moving my installment date/time earlier or later that day was nearly impossible, but luckily, it’s AT&T’s policy that as long as someone is there to let the cable installer in, the customer does not have to be present for the installation. 

“Perfect. I can come late to the game to let the cable guy in. The apartment door locks on its own, so there’s no problem with him having to lock anything after he leaves,” I said. “I would normally never let a stranger in my home alone, but we’re just that desperate.”

 The operator assured me that AT&T employees wouldn’t steal anything and that he had just moved us to PRIORITY #1 on the installation schedule. “Your appointment says 1-3, but AT&T takes “Priority” cases very seriously, so be prepared for them to arrive around 12:30,” he said. After going through the gauntlet of all those inane operators, I was exhausted, but relieved someone finally helped me, and was even glad someone could provide ‘priority’ status for me. 

Sept. 15^th, D-Day:  12:30 rolls around….1:00 …..1:30…….Finally, I get a call from the cable guy at 2 p.m. saying he’s outside my apartment and no one will let him in. I go outside and proceed to pace around the entire apartment complex looking for him and calling out landmarks until he realizes he’s at the wrong place, and what’s worse, in the wrong town. 

He FINALLY arrives 20 minutes before we have to leave for our game, barging in and blaming his GPS for being out of state (umm …it’s a GPS. It’s universal) and saying “I’m from south Florida…we don’t have area codes like this.” He finally begins to work and cannot locate the outlet in which to center the installation process. The cable guy, my roommate and I spend the next ten minutes scaling all the walls of the apartment looking for this specific outlet, at which point he admits to us that he works for a different company that was contracted for the week by AT&T and actually isn’t exactly sure how to set the U-Verse up. 

Two hours late, and we get someone who’s not even familiar with an AT&T installation?! That doesn’t exactly scream “PRIORITY #1” to me. 

At 2:30 Meredith and I start to leave for our game. I tell the cable guy that we appreciate him coming, but that something came up and we had to leave. I then told him  not to worry because I’d spoken with AT&T earlier in the week about it and they were fine with it-- to which the cable guy replies, “Well, if you leave, then I have to leave.”

 He proceeds to call who I can only imagine is his supervisor and is told that he cannot work if no one is there. I then spend the next ten minutes talking to the man’s supervisor, (pretty fed up at this point with all that I have endured with AT&T’s alleged “outstanding” customer service) and told him our situation, and that while I wouldn’t make this man my hostage, we could not and would not go another GOD KNOWS HOW LONG without the internet we so desperately needed. He replied that there was nothing he could do, and that he wasn’t sure who told me that they could install unsupervised, but he was wrong. Through my explanation, I told him that I shouldn’t have to skip class or take a sick day off of work to get the service I was already promised time and time again. The supervisor treated me like I was overreacting and kept repeating “Hey, ma’am, I’m trying to help you, here.” 

It was all I could do not to scream back “You’re not helping me- you’re cleaning up after your own mess!”  Yes, it’s appreciated, and I’m not trying to downplay anyone’s favor, but let’s be honest here – it’s your job. I understand that my situation was not entirely the cable guy or the supervisor’s fault, but it’s incredibly condescending to hear “Hey, AT&T is trying to help you,” and being treated as though I’m ungrateful when if it wasn’t for AT&T’s errors and faulty business practices, I wouldn’t need help in the first place. Am I seriously PAYING you people to be treated this way?

I eventually pleaded/haggled my way to where the cable guy had to put everything back and leave, but AT&T could squeeze me in from 11-1 the following day. I won’t even bring up the fact that I had to take a sick day off of work to finally see this installation into fruition. I won’t go on about how they arrived late, or that the installer and his supervisor were bickering and arguing the entire time, because at least now when I want to forget all the stress of this unnecessary chaos, I can watch TV.

But just when I thought I had seen the last of AT&T for a while……..Bam.  It took us approximately 29 days, over 30 phone calls, and countless hours of stress to finally have service and by the end of the week, I already had a bill for $130. Slow to satisfy, eager to charge, I see-- it doesn’t quite make a customer feel like his or her business is important, let alone appreciated. I guess customers don’t have to be satisfied, as long as they’re charged.

From top to bottom, it was a hellish experience- and that was only the installation! I still have six more months with AT&T, something I hope I do not regret any further. I would drop this contract right now, if our only other option wasn’t Charter, another company infamous for their horrific customer service. Sometimes I think your company doesn’t want to take pride in being the best in both quality product and customer service, but that AT&T will settle for being the least-terrible option of providers. 

Please prove me wrong.

While I want to know why your business is run so unprofessionally and so disorganized, what I want even more to know is what will be done from this? Anything at all?

People in your customer service department should be both courteous and eager to help, not left to burn bridges and pass the buck to other departments so that people think twice about calling. It’s perfectly fine for customer service to not know an answer. It is not fine, however, not to offer to try and find out. At the same time, it is totally acceptable to tell customers that you unfortunately cannot do anything to help their situation. It is not, however, acceptable for your employees to say whatever they assume the customer wants to hear, and appease them merely to get off the phone sooner. Your company makes so many promises -- I know because I was told my fair share of them. But why make all these promises when you clearly have no intention of keeping them? 

It’s one thing to be known for having absolutely NO follow through on the ‘maybes’, but there’s a word for guaranteeing things you could never give in the first place: LIES. 

In all sincerity, this is not one of those “Screw you!” letters where a customer rants to you, then boycotts your company and spends the rest of their lives badmouthing the business that wronged them. I really do want AT&T to make this right, and in turn, restore my faith in your business as well as your professional credibility. 

At this point, I ask you to consider two things that are ultimately crucial in both my future business with AT&T and the future of AT&T itself: what you want your business to be known for, and more importantly, what you want your business to stand for.  

                I’d like to believe that AT&T can make this right and change my mind. But more importantly, I’d like to believe that something will be done to ensure that I am the last customer to endure this type of fiasco.

                                                                                                           Sincerely,

                                                                                                                     Hope Howell

                                                                                                  Customer since August 2011

Bachelorette Extravaganza!

Location: My room; typing from the hot pink desk (no exaggeration) my sister Heather so generously left behind in her cohabitation move-in with her fiance. 

Mood: Bored. Tired of watching Netflix on my bed, looking for something else to do (well, truth be told I never tire of watching Netflix, but I do loathe the smell of burnt flesh when my laptop overheats and singes my legs.)

Listening to: Jana Kramer "Whiskey"

So I “just” got back from a friend's bachelorette party. I say “just,” because as you probably already know, it requires an entire work week for me to fully recuperate (aka rehydrate) from the experience– not to mention I allow myself ample time for my mind to wander and reflect, ultimately triggering countless details I had forgotten…. Without further ado:

Background:

Because softball was a pretty up-and-coming sport in the southeast when I grew up, I pretty much played with the same 30 girls (whether on the same team or against them) my whole life. And this August, my friend Jessie will be the first to bite the dust. GULP. The guy’s great- one of those strong, silent, good ‘ol boys and they’ve dated FOR FOREVER. May sound familiar….(*Luke, cough*). Growing up, while many of us girls swapped stories of random and exciting adventures while shagging (no pun intended) soft toss at our practices, Jessie would always blush and shake her head or change the subject to something a little tamer.

Secretly, though, we all knew she had a wild side. And last weekend, we set out to prove it.

The bride’s sister booked us a place on Orange Beach (in Alabama) for the weekend. The only thing between the ground under our feet and sending Jessie off right? A 6 hour road trip. Once you go to school in Illinois though, 6 hours is NOTHING. If you ask me, anything less than 12 hours doesn't even constitute a road trip. But I digress…

The first convoy of us (aka the diehard partiers) set the GPS default voice to “Australian male” and peeled out Thursday night. First, we stopped by the ATL airport to pick up the maid of honor at around 10 p.m., then drove in pitch black the whole way down without a single car on the road. It was awesome catching up with my friends because we all played at different colleges and I haven't seen most of them since Christmas, some  even before we finished in May of 2010, and others even since before our Junior year when we still played. We all swapped stories - about who had the worst teammate, who got yelled at the worst, the longest injury and the bitchiest coach. (I always win, of course. My coach was infamous for her crazy punishments, temper and antics. However, I never had a truly terrible injury the whole four years I played - I always say I wasn't lucky enough to puke or pull a muscle, because at least when that happens, you get to stop running for a minute or at least miss weigh-ins). Ridiculous.

I guess you just have to know my coach. She's like 5'4'', blonde and weighs about 90 lbs. soaking wet. This allows her to literally run circles around you. As a freshman, on our 6 am Saturday runs, she always used to scream in my ears "You'll NEVER BE BIG TEN PLAYER OF THE YEAR WITH A STRIDE LIKE THAT!" - and the whole time I'm thinking "WHO THE HELL SAID I WANTED TO BE BIG TEN PLAYER OF THE YEAR?!?!" I actually had enough one day and said "I got it." –And logged about a billion hours of silent study tables that week. No bueno. Lesson learned.

When I hear about all my friends back home who went to colleges and had the sweetest coach, or that once they got to college softball, it was like cruise control and they didn't even have to care anymore, I seriously can't even wrap my head around it. But I guess my struggle builds character.... (stay tuned..)

At around 4:00 a.m., we got to Orange Beach, but not exactly our desired destination.  Everyone in the car was so excited to hear Crocodile Dundee say “.2 miles,” only to look to the right and see a dark field. No lights, no people and definitely no beach condo. Not so much as a parking lot. So we proceed to drive from condo to condo, asking the hotel guards at the gate where we were. FAR BE IT FOR US TO EXPECT THESE GUYS ARE SOBER at 4 a.m. when they’re parking guards. In between my shock and laughter, I said this prayer: “Dear Lord, please don’t let the bride get stabbed by this stoner guard leaning in to show us on the map where we are.”

Finally, we realized a dyslexic concierge at the hotel mistakenly told Jessie the address was 28805 instead of 25508 or something, and we got to our new digs at approximately 4:20 a.m. Friday morning, and it was already 90 degrees. Exhausted, we just grabbed our duffel bags, agreeing to leave all the beach stuff, presents, snacks and booze in the car until we had the strength to move them in tomorrow.

When we woke up the next morning, it had climbed to 95 degrees, but POURING. I’m talking torrential downpour. People will do crazy things for presents and booze, but no one would even summon the courage to venture outside to grab the essentials from our stocked van 100 yds away. When the rain finally stopped and we weren’t hostages in our condo anymore, we decided to go to Publix and get the weekend staples: ping pong balls, solo cups, Nestle tollhouse dough, ice and a DVD from RedBox.

At the slightest break in the clouds, we packed up and headed to the beach. It was still ominous weather, but we only had 36 hours left of the party and were not about to spend it counting the amount of plastic plants and seashell picture frames in our condo.  

After a day of “sun,” we went to a nice restaurant to celebrate, and dinner fueled us for the ultimate mission: to get rowdy. We went to this place called Flori-Bama (it’s right on the border) and it was like a redneck-swamp bar with a band that played Lynyrd Skynyrd the whole time.

It may be a Flori-Bama thing, an Alabama thing, or just Southern beach thing, but there are these drinks called Bushwhackers...you may have already heard of 'em, but they were news to me. Basically it's a frozen/mixed drink thing that tastes like a thick coffee mudslide. It may sound fruity or whatever, but it's sneaky powerful, and as if it wasn’t already strong enough, they come with a 151 floater. Yikes. They were worth the $7 each though, thank the Lord. But the Bride was sporting her "Buy me a shot, I'm tying the knot" crown, so she was easily supplied..... 

To say the east, Flori-Bama was definitely NOT the type of place where you go and “have a few.” There were three DISTINCT types of people there - one, the 15 year old locals who snuck in and kept getting denied at the bar; secondly, there were people like us - vacationers in our 20s who were clearly not drunk enough to be there - and then finally, the over-the-hill-Hell's Angels crowd who had clearly had one too many Bushwhackers. The old guys were literally standing on tables head banging and re-living the glory days while these cougars flashed people (whether it was intentional, I couldn’t say) from their booths and from on stage. Now I can hold my own when it comes to parties, but these people were hardcore. No way I was gonna get in the middle of that mosh pit when the guitarist solos "Free Bird."

Thankfully, some legit sun came out on Saturday and we walked down to the beach, one of my teammates used her iPod to blare the Glee soundtrack from our GI-NORMOUS boom box and we settled in. We spent the entire day sipping and tanning on the beach. SUCH IS THE LIFE. I needed this vacation soooo bad and even though I couldn't drink the beer (allergies, remember?)  a friend and I had made a special, stronger, and consequently more effective concoction.  Well, when we weren’t looking, one of us was having a little too much fun, laughing a little too long, talking a little too loud and refusing to reapply sunscreen because she ‘never burned.’ For the rest of the day, this particular girl loud-talked away all our beach umbrella neighbors within a 5 mile radius. Now, I know I’m loud, but when I actually stop in the middle of my buzz to think “whoa…tone it down,” –You know it’s bad. I had never seen this specific girl in such a state and I was LUH-VING it. Anyone who told her to be quiet, she pointed at and proclaimed a “PARTY POOPER!!!!” at around 134,587,654 decibels. But for crying out loud, it was Jessie’s last weekend!! So I was MORE THAN HAPPY for her to boisterously shoo everyone –those outside our group and those within who did not want to participate - away from our fiesta.  

Maybe I’m going out on a limb here, but it’s totally different drinking with your childhood friends than it is with your college friends. With your college friends, you’re always surrounded by alcohol, and get to know them at tailgates, having a margarita as a restaurant or at practice swapping stories about parties. It’s totally different to drink with friends that you knew for at least 10 years before you even considered drinking.  It’s not that you necessarily have more in common with these people than your college friends, but it’s so amazing to look at who they were and where they are now – and that you may have had a part in shaping it. I KNOW it’s true for me- my childhood friends keep me in check, asking me “Are you ever going to write that book like you said you would?” or “Did you ever go to Mexico like you wanted?” Without going too deep on you guys, my childhood friends are like walking time capsules for me - I remember the person I was and the person I wanted to become when I’m with them.

When you and your friends can reminisce about your youth, be proud of where you all are now, and then cheers to what tomorrow will bring,  there’s no feeling like it.

After a split-second nap, we went to a restaurant on the harbor (amazing views) where I saw probably the biggest damn tray of nachos in the world (from a table away...no way bushwhackers and those woulda mixed).

It took us literally 3+ hours to get our food, so we left that restaurant somewhat deflated and decided to revitalize the night with a lingerie shower for the bride to be. All items were great and tasteful, except for mine, OF COURSE. Whoops. Because the groom is definitely a country boy, I got her a “Redneck Wedding Night Kit”: sweet tea vodka, peach flavored “stuff,” and some glow in the dark panties that read “Saddle Up.” Now, I wasn’t sure what other people would get, but I figured I wouldn’t be the ONLY crazy gift. O well- I stand by my choice. 

During the shower, most of us changed into our PJs and casually celebrated. After all, some of us had to work Sunday afternoon and we still had to clean up, repack and be out of the apartment by 9:30 am at the latest.  Around 12:45, the bride suddenly announces she wants to go to a karaoke bar. Now for those of you that know me understand that Karaoke bars are NOT my thing. I'm not afraid to sing, and I actually like karaoke at parties when people scream out some Twisted Sister "I wanna Rock!" But I get SOOOO embarrassed for the people whose friends take them there to cheer them up after a breakup, only these poor souls pick the saddest song like “I can’t make you love me” by Bonnie Raitt or that song "F you, I don't want you back" –it's just awkward and I just pray and pray that I never let anyone take me to a karaoke bar during a break up. So far I've succeeded. :)

Moral of the story: after Friday night, I thought I was a tank – but those who went out to karaoke were the real troopers. And just as I suspected, the seemingly shy Bride to Be out-partied us all. 

The next morning (5 hours of sleep later for me, only 3 for some), a teammate and I got up and started sweeping all the sand and making a “lost and found” box full of keys, flip flops and nail polish. I had just found my lost earring when the Maid of Honor (yesterday’s loud heart of the party) stuck her head out of the master bedroom door, burnt to a crisp, and said in a hoarse, crackling 80 year old smoker voice, “Well, I hope you’re all happy.” Hilarious.

Obviously, dehydrated, with hair that smelled like smoke and last night’s makeup still caked on, the drive back felt three times as long. But worth it. Definitely worth it.

New Job (Letter from April)

Here’s a letter I sent to my high school English teacher about the first couple days of my internship.

For the sake of keeping his identity private, from BOTH my followers, (I rounded up) haha, I’ll leave his name out.)    *Although I know some of you crazies are thinking it’s Voldemort or something

I've been meaning to write since I got this new gig, but I'm sure you know how it is- when you come home from scribbling/writing/calling people all day, the last thing you want to do is see your laptop again. So this is me, pushing through the wall.

Anyway, I actually got hired April 1st, but with all the drug tests, paper work, and waiting for the intern program to actually put me in their database, I actually started last week. I've been SWAMPED every minute since. And not in the coffee-runner, "Here, file this" way I assumed I would spend the majority of my internship. I'm not even calling it an internship anymore. I've been thrown in the deep end. 

From the minute I set foot in the door, I've been writing press releases for local community events like Global Youth Service Day, Race Unity rallies, etc., media advisories for public hearings, the works. 

*~* Oh, and let it be known! For my first two days, I didn’t have a computer! Thank God I brought my laptop, but even then I couldn’t break the county’s firewall on their wireless and had to fact-check and research source titles and mission statements of organizations FROM MY PHONE. And keep in mind, my father works in the IT sector, aka the people who are responsible for setting up my username/password. The second day I was fed up. By 10:30 my phone was almost dead so I called my dad.

Me: Have you gotten a chance to set up my county profile yet? I’m drowning over here.
Dad: You realized you called the Director, right?
Me: So?
Dad: So you should call the help desk for that.
(Leave it to my veteran dad to follow the chain of command even in the microscopic scheme of installing software)
Me: What? What’s the point of having contacts if I can’t use them? Besides, I’ve always been a go-straight-to-the-top-for-results kinda girl….……..Dad? Hello??

Later that day, I met him at his office for lunch. I told him I wanted to wash my hands first and he said I could use his office bathroom. I replied “Oh, no, Dad, I WOULDN’T DAAAAARRRREE give any impression of nepotism,” and used the one in the building. (He paid for lunch).

In addition, I’m pretty confident I’ve gotten my first work crisis out of the way too. On my first day, my boss introduced me to the personnel I’d be in touch with for my regular assignments on the monthly departmental profile updates. I was shaking hands with the main boss when his secretary came in, relaying a call she got about a 75 year old woman calling on behalf of her mother, turning 100 next month and wanting to know “What we could do about it.” Wow. The Big Boss looks at my boss, who immediately turns to me and says “You got this?” --“Uh…sure.”  Turns I have to write a proclamation. HAVE YOU EVER HAD TO WRITE ONE OF THOSE? The whole “Here ye, Here ye… whereas _, whereas _, therefore I hereby declare April 15^th, Old-Lady-turns 100 day. Seriously? I have 600 high schoolers putting on a rally to fight racism tomorrow and your personal secretary can’t fill out a template? Talk about politics.

 I really can’t even get into that fiasco cuz it already took ten yrs off my life, but basically, I had to call the lady’s daughter and ask her to describe her mother. She couldn’t do it. The first time I called, she began to read a 6 page biographical sketch she had prepared. I kept saying “Ma’am, you have me confused with the newspaper. I’m writing an official document. I just need you to describe her role in the community, not that she made her own lye soap way back when.” The lady would only reply “I’m getting to it.” After twenty minutes, she finally had someone on the other line and said I’d have to try again later. The second time I called I “caught her off guard” so she had to call me back when she thought of something to say…I spent the entire day scared to go out for lunch because I was waiting for three lousy adjectives to put in this template. She calls me back half an hour before I leave for my second job–with a friend on speakerphone to, as she said, speak more articularly for her . She said she still couldn’t think of any personality traits, and if I could give her choices, she would tell me “if that sound like Ma or no.” Yikes. Putting words in people’s mouths? Talk about a journalist judgment call. Needless to say, I single-handedly wrote the vaguest proclamation in the history of the world. Pretty much looked like this: “Whereas, this lady has two eyes and a nose, has inhaled and exhaled for approximately 100 years and has an alleged daughter, I hereby declare Happy Birthday.”

Today, three days after we printed the proclamation, she called my office to get the local news channels #s because she wants them to cover it as well. “What I’m really tryin to do is get Obama cuz I heard he came to Monroe,” she said. Hanging my head, I replied “I’m sorry ma’am, President Obama is not in our Georgia News Directory. “

-It’s flattering, but no, my small office does not have a direct connection to that shiny, red phone in the Oval Office.

Ok, more on the actual newsworthy stuff.

Saturday I covered the Marquis Grissom Baseball Association opening day. I got to meet the man who caught the last out of the 1995 World Series. He’s shorter than I could have ever imagined, but very down to earth and kind. Anyway, after that successful release, and with my athletic/Illinois blog background they've chosen me to write the sports segment too (which I can't blame them, seeing as how the TV anchor intern is non-sportsy to say the least...during the staff meeting yesterday he was more preoccupied with his idol Katie Couric leaving CBS than the Braves sweeping the Giants, so I gladly accepted the assignment). But you’ll never hear me complain about him! He’s awesome and has the best femme fatale music- including the new Britney Spears CD downloaded on his computer to blare in between phone calls. He’s no Jim Halpert, but he ALWAYS has mints, so what more can a girl ask in an office mate?

FINAL Out of Left Field: Illinois Softball Blog #11 (Postseason)

“Flight 563 departing for Atlanta is now boarding Zone 4…”

I’m sitting on the airplane next to this smiley businessman (probably reading over my shoulder as I type) who insists on making small talk. He’s probably wondering why I have such an extreme sunglasses tan or why a college kid flying home for the summer would seem so morose- how do I even begin to explain to this complete stranger what I’ve endured the past 3 days?

DEPAUL (ROUND ONE)
The game went rather quickly. We knew we had a great chance to take the tournament, but before we could think about facing the reigning champs No. 9 Mizzou, we had to focus on one tiny chore: beating the team we had yet to defeat my whole career at Illinois. Especially after losing to them in the latter part of our regular season with –let’s face it-one of our sloppiest outings of the year- we were ready to avenge ourselves. Besides, everyone understood that we could not put ourselves in a position to win the tournament without grabbing the first one. I think it gave us a little perspective and helped us think less on the rivalry and more about advancing to super-regionals. After the game, the celebration was short lived- we knew we hadn’t seen the last of the Blue Demons and we had to focus on Mizzou.

MIZZOU (ROUND ONE)
I think our first face off against Mizzou was a lot like our first meeting with DePaul this year. We made the opposing team the challenge instead of the game. As a result, we weren’t winning innings and couldn’t put enough runs up as we normally do. But once it was over, we didn’t exactly have time to pout; we were scheduled to play DePaul in two hours and knew it’d either be us or them going home. Nothing like a game at gunpoint to give you a short-term memory.

DEPAUL (ROUND TWO)
The loser’s bracket is simple- kill or be killed. At this point, everyone has scouted and is well aware of each team’s strengths and weaknesses. So as a hitter- whatever your worst pitch is, expect it. Over. And over. And over. What’s more, the opposing defense also adjusts to your offensive tendencies; to counter this, the hitters must adjust to the pitcher. This info is not to hype up how hard it is to succeed in post-season, but just to illustrate the paradox of the game. It’s all about who can multitask the best- making hundreds of small adjustments while simultaneously not straying from your own style of play.

During the break between games, the team agreed that if we played tentative or tried to be tricky again, we would undoubtedly go home. Our team isn’t sneaky- the only way we know how to win is to HIT and HIT and HIT; trying to win any other way was just a recipe for disaster. Might as well take the risk of trusting ourselves despite everyone else’s scouting reports on us and play the way we know how.
The DePaul game was just one big blur. We had to win it and of course, took each inning seriously, but it was a mere stepping stone onto our real goal of getting a second shot at the Tigers. 9-1 later, we were in the championship series.

MIZZOU (PART TWO)
Our execution could have been better, especially on offense. We didn’t have half of the base runners we normally do, and our defense- which has always thrived off of our offense- only added to our frustration.

However, in true Illini fashion, weren’t going down without a fight and sparked in the bottom of the 7th. Jackie got a base hit and brought the tying run to the plate with two outs. In the huddle, Coach told Z to drive the ball in the dirt at short stop as hard as she could and that the combination of Z’s speed and pressure on the defense would guarantee us a run.

Z did EXACTLY what Coach told her to; she executed it perfectly. As Z dove head first into the base, our season hung in the balance. I held my breath for the throw.

“Oh my God, she’s safe! She did it!” I thought. I ran to grab her bat out of the box when I saw the first base umpire start her slow-motion run and throw back her arm to signal ‘out.’

--It was like taking a bullet. My heart broke- not for my season, but for this fearless junior, who will probably never fully comprehend how brave she was to even stay composed in that situation, let alone succeed.

After the game, we went to Mizzou’s visitor locker room to shower before the drive home; some parents of Mizzou were there waiting for their daughters and agreed that Z was in fact safe. They continued to express their relief because they too, knew we would have taken that opportunity to bust the inning open. Even right now, I’m speechless. Whoever says umpires don’t lose games didn’t have to look into Z’s eyes.

Now, Z, because I KNOW you, I know that moment will haunt you. But know this: not only would I have put the fate of our team in your hands again, but I have no doubt that moment will be the driving force for a dominant 2011 season. And while only one team actually ends their season satisfied, you have to admit-sometimes ‘the beauty is in the attempt.’

To the rest of my beloved teammates- I know this loss stings, but trust me; just like all previous Illini losses have, this defeat will raise the bar and propel the program into great things. Our goal last year was to make post season; this year’s goal was not to be satisfied with a post-season appearance, but actually compete for the title; next year’s obviously will be to take it all- and I’ll be cheering front and center when you do.

As I stepped off the airplane in Atlanta, I felt like “Moonlight” Graham in Field of Dreams- stepping over the chalk, morphing from ball player to civilian. I won’t have to wake up early to lift tomorrow. There won’t be a “Hello Future Big Ten Champions!” letter from Coach in my mailbox this summer. And in three months, I’ll be hearing walk-out songs from behind the dugout instead…So this is what it feels, like, huh?

In closing, I’d like to leave you with an excerpt I read on the airplane back to school in August that set the foundation for my mindset all season.

“Because he was fearless and gifted, he could surrender to his game fully. He could risk everything because he knew he had taken possession of his time on the field and had perfect faith in his skills and instincts.” ~ Pat Conroy, My Losing Season

You all have seeds of greatness in you. Learn to have that ‘perfect faith’ both in yourself and your teammates. And remember, if ever the goal seems too high, JUST DON’T LOOK DOWN!

I wish you –current and future Illini- more successful seasons to come. Seasons full of adversity to build character, camaraderie to make it worthwhile, and in your great efforts, memories to treasure forever.

- Hope #1

Out of Left Field: Illinois Softball Blog #10 (Purdue/ Minnesota Series)

I know, I know…it’s already been a week and 5 games, where’s the blog already?! Forgive me. Exam week takes its toll. Once I finished this semester, I never wanted to see my laptop ever again.

We swept Purdue (first one of the seniors’ career!) And thank goodness we run-ruled them the last game; not only did that give us a better record and confidence going into our Senior Weekend, but several of us had exams the next morning and were in desperate need of studying. Because I had 5 days between exams, I had time to plan my study regimen perfectly. But how can anyone focus when you’re in a Big Ten race?

*~* whatever. I just promised myself that after the double-header I would go to the gas station, buy one of those amazing iced mocha drinks Hollie recently turned me onto and use the caffeine to study all night. Don’t get me wrong, Hollie is my beloved partner in crime, but it’s dangerous having a friend who likes all the things you do. When she gets hooked on something, I get hooked on something, and vice versa. –Which is why I’m now paying $3 4x a week for 20 oz. of straight sugar and she can’t stop watching Real Housewives of New York.

After we swept Purdue, in accordance with my plan, I dragged my roommate Audrey (who also had a final exam at 8 a.m. to the gas station to buy our essential “study session” drinks and snacks. I made a Bee-line for the mocha machine when nothing came out!!! Right then I was conflicted between the devil and angel on either side of my shoulders…. “This ruins the plan!” Vs. “It’s not worth it, Hope…” Good luck trying to reason with a girl who has a law exam worth 45% of her grade in 9 hours and a heaping pile of flashcards to memorize.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME DUDE!?” I screamed at the gas station attendant. “I’VE BEEN DREAMING ABOUT THIS MOCHA FOR A WHOLE WEEK!” I immediately realized how pathetic that sounded and didn’t expect the guy to take a 22 yr old girl, throwing a tantrum with traces of eye black down her cheeks seriously. The guy said he’d look in the back for more, but only came out holding an “OUT OF ORDER” sticker that he slapped on the blending machine. My only hope for revenge? Immortalize this epic offense in my blog. VICTORY IS MINE!! Whatever, I probably just gave the gas station the publicity it needs. If you ever need a Mocha spokesperson, you know where to find me.

So, after compromising with a coke icee instead, I walked (heavy hearted, mind you) with my Audrey back to our apartment, vowing to only talk about the game on the walk back home. Once we walked through the door, the only sounds you could hear were her pounding laptop keys and me flipping flashcards. That is, until 7:30 a.m. when we parted ways to assume our fate.
My law final was lethal. LETHAL I TELL YOU! Each question was the equivalent of taking a bullet. I barely knew anything- reminded me a lot of the SATs, without the luxury of omitting questions. But as soon as I walked out the double doors, HELLO SENIOR WEEKEND! Did I mention this weekend was SENIOR WEEKEND?

GAME ONE
Minnesota got an early lead in the 3rd, but we weren’t fazed. Slowly, but surely we strung hits together, chipping away at the Gopher’s lead until we could finally grab it for ourselves. No one panicked- it was simply a mutual understanding that we’d get those runs back. I believe everything thing we do in one way or another prepares us for post-season. For example, no team can overcome a 3-run lead with only three or four hitters- it takes everyone. And that’s why we succeed. Our offense knows exactly what it takes to score runs, and do not care how or what they have to do to get on. For example, I led off the inning reaching on an error, and then Meredith and Hollie did the same. Once we touched home, did anyone actually remember, or even care how we got on? Course not. The scoreboard knows no jersey number, and we were going to lean into every pitch and steal every extra base we could until we got the lead back.

And props to our defense, as it has a tendency to get even tighter after opposing teams score. Every run scored against us is personal, but especially if it takes our offense a while to get going, we have to work together to be extra stingy and aggressive on defense.

GAME TWO

Before heading to the field, I stopped by my parent’s hotel for a free hot breakfast and visited the lobby’s computer to check my email. To my surprise, my final exam grade and overall grade was already in! Of course, I blew the final, but ended up getting an A in the class! I had a friend double check for me before I actually believed it. I figured “Ok, this has to be Karma from the Mocha machine.” Thinking my good luck account would be bankrupt after my law exam’s incredibly large withdrawal, I never in a million years would have believed Senior Day would have turned out like it did.
First, we seniors walked in to see our lockers decorated with Congratulations, streamers and shiny banners with our names and numbers on them. On our benches were digital picture frames with countless rotating group and action shots.
*Thank you to all the picture taking parents for all these great memories!

That morning, all my family, friends and teammates asked if I was ready for my last game on Eichelberger Field EVER! I just shrugged my shoulders; we stood such a great chance of hosting, it didn’t seem as final to me. Forgive the morbid analogy, but it’s like if you met a crazy psychic who knew the day (or how) you were going to die, would you honestly want to know? I don’t think I would. And I think it’d be an insult to the team if I consciously played my supposed last game any different than the first or next. But still, that didn’t mean we couldn’t end the “regular” season with our best performance ever. So I guess the moral of the story is, not only is ignorance bliss- it keeps you aggressive at the plate.
Right from the start I knew we were going to win. No, it wasn’t just a feeling- our teammates told us, plain out- they were going to annihilate this team for us- and they were going to do it quickly so we could have more time to celebrate with our families.

The night before, I went 1-4, but felt as though I was seeing it well and hitting the ball hard. I told Hollie I was going to take Vaji’s approach- if she doesn’t find a hole in the defense to expose, she just hits it right at them hard enough so that they either botch it or it shoots past them before they even notice. So when I stepped into the box in the bottom of the first, I just thought “Doesn’t have to be pretty, just hit it hard.” Eventually I worked my way to a 3-1 count. Now, we’re trained to only swing if it’s our favorite pitch or right down the middle, and lead off batters are in no position to turn down an opportunity to get on base, especially when Mer’s batting behind me. I thought, “Don’t get greedy, just take the walk.” Then the pitcher’s release- that ball looked like Christmas morning. Well, maybe I can make this one exception…..HOME RUN!

*Thank you Mrs. Wright for chasing that ball down before the field crew could get it and return it to the umpires. My Dad will probably sleep with that ball under his pillow for the rest of the season, thinking maybe the home-run fairy will visit me again.

My second at bat I came up with Vaji on third and Z on second base with one out. WHAT AN AMAZING SITUATION. No matter what I do, I win. Sac fly or ground out, Vaji scores. Base hit, they both score. I knew all I had to do was not strike out, and Z would be at the plate before I even touched first. I hit the ball to right field, and while they were tempted to get Z at the plate, got to second.
My third time around it was almost comical. Everyone was telling me to stay hot, but I knew better. As soon as you think you can rope anything thrown at you-- is when you wiff. This day was already so incredible- we had a huge lead against Minnesota and I got an A in a class that people typically reserve to repeat again, so I knew my luck was running on E. I thought “C’mon…would God really let me THREE times?” So with Z at second, I was focused on moving the runner with something to the right side. The 2nd baseman hesitated, and there I was, 3 for 3.


Still, the day wasn’t perfect until the entire team got in. Truthfully, I don’t feel like our season could have ended any better. I mean, Jackie gets up, and hits up the middle and then again down the line, Erin gets a pinch hit, Nikki gets a pinch hit, you can’t make this stuff up! –And don’t think Bailey’s wasn’t a great pinch hit either. She practically walked twice, but was wrung up on mercy calls. No fair, and it’s really sad that she’s immune to those ridiculous mercy calls.

Then- in relief- Ash Bob. Too freakin perfect. K,K,K, K,… (my lap top won’t do backwards Ks….) I hope everyone who’s read this blog about Ashley’s pitching saw for yourself this weekend. She’s incredible. And it’s only fitting that she struck out the side in the 7th, leaving us both with game balls to treasure forever.
In case you’ve lost track, let’s RECAP: that’s an A on my crazy hard Law class, a HR, double and single on SENIOR DAY with my best buddy and fellow senior providing the K to seal our careers at Eichelberger Field- I totally should have gone out and bought a lottery ticket.

To the juniors, sophomores, and freshmen--it was a total team effort and I wouldn’t want to go out at Eichy any other way. I am both honored and grateful that your goal that day was to win and make us proud doing it. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. Now I dare you to top it.