It's funny how little I've come to expect from customer service.  Even "little" is an overstatement.  I expect the worst when I call a customer service phone number.  I expect my situation to actually go downhill, to go from having one question to having ten questions, from thinking I'm owed something to actually owing something. 

So it was funny last week when I got a $9 check in the mail as a result of a run-in with customer service.  I got double-charged for parking at the Newark Airport; once on my E-ZPass and once on my credit card.  If it was a $0.35 toll, I would have let it go because it would cost more of my time to fix the problem than the $0.35 refund would have been worth.  But this was $9, and there's some invisible line between $0.35 and $9 after which I'm morally required to take action. 

I called E-ZPass expecting the worst, and I got even worse than the worst.  There isn't even a word for that.  I said, "You charged me twice."  She said, "That's not my problem.  You have to call the Newark Airport."  I said, "It figures.  Can you give me anything, maybe a phone number?"  She said, "There's nothing I can do.  Here's a number."  I angrily hung up and called the number.  I heard that ear-piercing tone that not only says, "The number you have dialed has been disconnected," but also, "Screw you and your previously good hearing ability."  I laughed.  I tried again.  I got the same message.  I hoped that electronic recording could somehow hear how hard I slammed my phone down. 

I searched online for a contact at the Newark Airport parking division.  I found it.  I called it.  It worked.  The woman I talked to was quite possibly the nicest, most accommodating customer service person I've ever encountered.  But remember, this is the airport in Newark, so there are a few cultural peculiarities that need to be kept in mind.  For one, "rudeness" doesn't equate to "meanness".  That's just how they talk.  Second, just because they sound rushed and annoyed doesn't mean they won't help.  I told her my problem and she told me what I needed to do.  She needed printed information, and she said she'd get back to me.  She got back to me and said I'd be receiving a check in the mail.  Four weeks later, I received said check and rejoiced. 

The funny part about this situation is that I've grown so accustomed to talking to unhelpful customer service people that I was completely floored to find one that could actually help me.  And not only was the person helpful, I actually saw the end result:  That $9 check in my mailbox.  Oh, what a day. #business

There's this thing that happens on websites geared toward article discussion and comment:  For every single article that's published, some jerk announces that he (I'd say he/she but that's probably unrealistic) is the first commenter. 
All websites have the ability to filter and delete comments.  My question is this:  Why do we, as a civilized human race, allow these idiots to clog up the internet with their worthless comments?  You might think I'm overreacting.  If so, you don't read enough geek websites.  This is a major problem, and I can't even fathom why website owners allow it to continue.  I personally think the offenders should be publicly mocked and beaten, preferably with a tube sock full of quarters or some sort of archaic torture device.  I think the general human populace is smarter than this.  We shouldn't need to be the first to comment on something, and that comment surely shouldn't be something as stupid as "First!" #technology

I don't understand why websites have site searches like this: 
If I go to a specific website, why would I want to search "the web"?  That's what Google is for! 

I remember reading the same complaint about CNN's site search, but they've apparently grown a brain and fixed it. #technology

A road near my house was recently paved, after which it was left unlined for about 3 months.  It's funny how roads without lines incite such horrific driving, even from me. 

It's not a main road, and it never has any cops, so most traffic laws are disobeyed anyway.  But I noticed a definite shift in collective driving habits after the road was paved and before it was lined.  There are manhole covers every few feet, and they seem to line up perfectly with a car's passenger-side tires.  The simple solution is to drive in the center of the road, which isn't usually a problem because there isn't much traffic.  But the road is a little hilly, so you have to be careful as you approach a blind hill where another driving is probably driving in the center of the road just like you. 

But then just yesterday, they painted lines.  Immediately, I noticed a change in my own driving habits, and I'm sure I'm not the only one.  When there are lines, people stay between them.  Those manhole covers?  You just have to hit them.  Otherwise, you'd be driving over the center lines, and that's just stupid. #travel

If I ever become a teacher (which I won't), I'll teach physics.  But I'll teach it better than it was taught to me (that's right, Ms. C.) by comparing everything to sports.  I know the world isn't full of athletes, but I also know that physics classrooms aren't full of physicists. 

Position/Velocity
Q:  If Roger Clemens throws a 97-mph fastball, how long will it take to reach the head of a soon-to-be-angry batter? 
A:  If the pitcher's mound is 60'-6" from home plate, an object traveling at 97 mph will take
(1 hour/97 miles) * (3600 seconds/1 hour) * (60.5 feet) * (1 mile/5280 feet) = 0.425 seconds
(This is an approximation because the ball loses velocity as it travels through the air and it falls farther to the ground as it approaches the batter.  But for high school physics, it's good enough.)

Impulse/Momentum
Q:  If a 250-lb Jeremy Shockey catches a pass during a Giants game while running 8 mph and collides with a 180-lb defensive back running 10 mph, who will have the bigger headache? 
A:  momentum = mass * velocity
Shockey's momentum = 250 * 8 = 2000 lb-mi/hr
DB's momentum = 180 * 10 = 1800 lb-mi/hr
Even though the defensive back is running faster, his inferior weight will cause him to be a part of the post-game highlight reel. 

Trajectory
Q:  What angle must a hibachi chef fling a piece of chicken to get it into the mouth of a person sitting 5 feet away if the chicken's initial velocity is 13 feet/second, assuming the chicken's starting vertical location is equal to the vertical location of the person's mouth?  (Ok, this isn't quite a sport, but it's close enough.)
A:  angle = 0.5 * arcsin(gravitational acceleration * range / velocity²) = 0.5*arcsin(32.2*5/13²) = 36.2 degrees
If his aim is even one degree off, expect to catch it with your eyeball. #math

Seasonal affective disorder is one of those newly-invented diseases that sounds made-up because everybody has the symptoms.  "Most SAD sufferers experience normal mental health throughout most of the year, but experience depressive symptoms in the winter or summer."  Not to minimize what's likely an actual disorder, but who doesn't feel sad in the winter when they have to walk out to their car in 7-degree weather to scrape the ice off their windshield so they can spend another dangerous commute on the snow-covered, idiot-filled roads and sit in a cubicle for 9 hours? 

I'd say I feel most "SAD" at the border of summer and fall.  As much as I like football season and milder weather, fall has always brought with it three terrible things: 

1. The end of lazy summer days, beaches, vacations, free time, and any fun whatsoever.
2. The beginning of cold weather, ice on your car, extra blankets, and no more sandals.
3. The start of school.

And that last one is what I think really makes the difference.  Even now that I'm out of school, that dread of starting things up again, being forced into an uncomfortable routine, and introducing an untold amount of stress into my life is built into the core of my being.  It doesn't matter that I graduated college over three years ago.  It wouldn't matter if it was 30 years ago.  That feeling, that pit in my stomach, is so ingrained into who I am, I doubt it'll ever go away.  Plus, I still know people who are in school, and I'm sure I'll always know people who are in school.  I feel bad for the people who are still entrenched in the education system, and I accept their pain and discomfort as my own. 

But anyway, thank God for school, summer, fall, and the ability to feel, because without any of it, we'd all merely be moist robots. #psychology

I think I do certain things because I'd regret not doing them more than I regret actually doing them. 

The perfect example is grad school.  I can't put into words how much I hate school and learning.  I can't wait until I can sit around and bask in my stupidity, without even a thought as to when the next assignment is due or how I'll find time to do it.  But at the same time, I know that if I didn't get my graduate degree (which is provided freely and conveniently by my employer), I'd regret it even more. 

Getting graduate degree:  Regret level = 6/10
Not getting graduate degree:  Regret level = 8/10
8 > 6 → get graduate degree

When things are broken down into numbers, they make much more sense to me. #psychology

I think it's perfectly fine to blame God for the bad things, as long as he also gets credit for the good things.  If I blame him for getting a flat tire while waiting in traffic after sleeping past my alarm, I should also thank him for giving me a job that lets me afford a car and a roof over my head, and for getting me up and to work every other day.  If I blame God for the death of a friend or family member, I should also thank him for giving them life in the first place, and for giving me continued life despite the fact that death is inevitable. 

I mentioned this topic a while ago, but in reference to blaming George W. Bush for the increasing (and then decreasing) gas prices.  No, I'm not equating GWB to God.  But the situation is essentially the same.  If we blame someone or something for a certain specific negative action, shouldn't we also thank that same person/entity for when the situation goes away or gets better? #religion

I watched a recorded NFL game last night, and I'd probably place it in the top 10 best experiences of my entire life.  I wasn't able to watch the 4:15pm game, so I recorded it on my poor man's DVR.  While the game was being played, I made sure I didn't catch any scores or watch any replays on live TV.  Unlike a TiVo, I can't start watching something until it's done recording, so I had to wait until about 7:45.  Despite my innate understanding of time and its relation to football, I was still amazed that the game only lasted about 1 hour and 15 minutes with timeouts.  Skipping the commercials cut the game time down by about 65%.  Also noteworthy is the fact that commercial breaks during football games last exactly 2 minutes, unlike 3 minutes for normal TV shows.  This means that I needed to press the "commercial skip" button exactly 4 times to get through a commercial break (it simply skips 30 seconds ahead).  What an amazing thing. #entertainment

My last name is Hosier.  It's pronounced hoe-zher, with a long "o" and a soft "zh" like the "g" in "judge" or "age".  It's probably French.  Or Scottish.  Or German.  Or Ethiopian.  Or any of the other nationalities my parents have claimed to be descendents of.  It's obviously related to the word hosiery, which is a fancy word for leggings or pantyhose.  A person who fabricates hosiery for a living would likely be called a hosier, though that's not personally what I do. 

The problem with my last name is that it's impossible for people to pronounce.  Especially telemarketers.  I've heard hose-y-er, hoz-ler (obviously a misread), hose-er, hoy-zer, and even hose-y-ay.  I've heard all the stupid jokes and comments about being from Canada ("You're a hoser, eh?") or Indiana (the Hoosier state), and even that I might be related to the founder of a company that makes performance car tires.  I've had this last name for long enough that I just accept mispronunciations as part of life, especially if the person is unimportant like a telemarketer.  Even with people who say my last name on a regular basis, like a boss or a professor, I rarely correct them.  It's just not worth it.  People are stupid; they won't remember. 

A wrench was thrown into the mix when Wendy graciously accepted my last name in marriage.  She's only had the name for the past three years, but she's already fed up with the mispronunciations.  We're casually thinking about a legal name change, either to something un-mispronounce-able like Smith, Jones, or Wilson, or a more phonetic spelling of Hosier.  Here are some ideas: 

1. Hozure - Has the soft "z" sound, but might be mispronounced hoe-zyoor.
2. Hozher - Seems phonetic to me, but people might be confused by the "zh" letter combination.
3. Hosher - Has the sh/zh combo, but will probably be pronounced to rhyme with kosher.
4. Hojier/Hogier - Again, people might be confused by the "j" or the "g".  I can hear it now:  "I'm calling on behalf of the Police Benevolence Association for Mr. Hoe-dgi-er?"  I'm sorry, I don't know anyone by that name.  *click*
5. Hodgjshzhier - If people insist on mispronouncing my last name, might as well make it a challenge.

#language