Tag Archives: Vermont

United we fall

Online forum SomethingAwful managed to raise $27,695 to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Then suddenly, PayPal locked the account.

When someone finally managed to contact PayPal, they were informed that PayPal has an exclusive contract with United Way—and that United Way’s contract would not allow PayPal funds to be transferred to the Red Cross.

Yup: United Way and PayPal would rather block $27k in relief funds, than allow the money to go to the Red Cross. So the money had to be refunded.

A lot of people are blaming PayPal for this. They certainly deserve a big chunk of blame; but really, what kind of charity makes you sign contracts saying you won’t let people donate to competing charities? Can you imagine if your bank bounced a check because they had signed a United Way contract and you were trying to give to the Red Cross?

Please, I beg you: do not donate through United Way or PayPal. If you want to donate to charity, send the money directly to The Red Cross.

The United Way also fund bigotry—they give funds to organizations which practice deliberate discrimination on the basis of religion and sexuality. If your local United Way has a non-discrimination statement, don’t believe it—at least one regional United Way has continued to fund organizations that don’t comply with their written policy. You need to specifically check what organizations your chosen United Way is funding; for example, Austin’s United Way no longer funds the Boy Scouts as of July 2005—but in Ohio, the BSA is still getting money. It looks as if United Way regional groups cutting off the BSA Are the exception rather than the rule—even in Vermont some are still funding the BSA.

I’m all for religious freedom, but if you want to teach kids about your god, be honest about it and send them to your church. And don’t expect me to pay for it, and don’t try to con or force other people to pay for it.

To me, having to read through a list of grand recipients seems like a lot of hassle when you could give to a charity that focuses purely on funding things that are actually important, like feeding the starving, rather than one that may siphon off money to teach kids not to be gay and indoctrinate them to believe in Jesus. You can also check sites like Charity Navigator for advice on which charities use the funds effectively, and which ones waste them on overheads and fat executive paychecks. (Hello, American Cancer Society.)

The Boy Scouts of America are a pretty sleazy organization all round. Not only was their director arrested for collecting kiddy porn, they also lied about their minority membership to try and get more money from United Way, and the FBI is investigating whether they might have made up names to boost their membership. Many local BSA groups also lie that they will not discriminate in the hope of getting funding.

Now it can be told

My Prius arrived! Three days ahead of the most optimistic estimate! Now it’s purchased, time to tell the whole story…

I started the search on September 16th. Calling the local Massachusetts Toyota dealers quickly established that they all had ridiculous wait lists; the best wait time I was quoted was a year. However, the situation wasn’t completely hopeless—according to the online forums like priusonline.com and priuschat.com, dealers often get cars that are a color or a package that nobody on their wait list wants, or nobody on the list who wants the car can get financed at that particular moment in time.

Because we wanted the high end package with the GPS navigation system, I had a hunch that the legendary thriftiness of New Hampshire residents would make it a promising place to hunt for unwanted Priuses, not to mention that you can’t fit a gun rack on one. Another point in our favor was that we weren’t too fussy about color—we’d take silver, gold, green, red, maybe even black. So, I started checking every single New Hampshire Toyota dealer that had a web site, searching their inventory, and calling or e-mailing all the ones that actually had a 2004 Prius listed.

Almost the first response was from Autofair Toyota in Manchester, NH. They called me back about half an hour after I sent an e-mail. They said that the 2004 Prius they had on the lot was being shopped to their wait list, and that someone would likely take it even though none of them had said they wanted the BC package. However, they were expecting two more BC package cars in October, and could put my name down for one of them. The incoming cars would be brand new 2005 models, and they expected them to be at the dealership around October 10th-14th. Price would be MSRP—no special markup.

I should explain that unfortunately, a lot of dealers are taking advantage of the constrained supply of vehicles by adding $3,000-$5,000 to the price. Since the MSRP already includes a healthy profit, and the dealers get a bonus from Toyota for selling the cars immediately, people on the Prius forums have been rather scathing about the practice. I have no real ethical problem with pricing up—after all, it’s just supply and demand—but I had already decided I would rather buy a second hand temporary car than pay over MSRP.

The Autofair sales associate told me up front what the total price would be, including their processing and admin charge—a mere $121, whereas I’ve been quoted up to $500 elsewhere.

I explained up front that I wanted to continue to look for a car actually available, and they said all they wanted was a $100 deposit, which would be fully refundable if I managed to get a car somewhere else first. Again, other dealers are asking for $1,000 deposits, and some are even demanding non-refundable deposits. Autofair seemed completely reasonable and up-front about everything, so I agreed.

There then followed a couple of weeks of anxiousness about whether the car would actually turn up in time for our move to Austin, TX. During that time I believe I checked every single Toyota dealer web site for Massachusetts, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Connecticut, and Rhode Island, plus I e-mailed and called a few places that didn’t even have web sites.

As of this morning, I still had no lead on an actual Prius available any time before the last week of October. And then Autofair called. My car had arrived.

Of course, it’s not as simple as it ought to be. Massachusetts makes the whole process as difficult as possible, in an apparent attempt to stop people buying cars in New Hampshire and dodging tax, or not getting insurance. Since I didn’t manage to find a description of the process anywhere, even on the RMV web site, here we go…

I have to:

  1. Get the money from the bank as a bank draft.
  2. Go to New Hampshire, exchange the money for the certificate of origin and an RMV-1 form. Don’t collect the car, because Massachusetts doesn’t allow any kind of temporary plates, and has no grace period for vehicle registration.
  3. Return to Massachusetts and physically go to a state-authorized Massachusetts insurance agency, certificate of origin and RMV-1 form in hand. Then I bend over and take it, and get the RMV-1 form stamped to say I now have insurance.
  4. Take the stamped RMV-1 form and bill of sale to the Registry of Motor Vehicles in downtown Boston, pay tax on the car, and exchange the form for a Massachusetts license plate. (Hopefully the USPS will successfully redirect our mail, ’cause we probably won’t be here by the time the title deed arrives 4 to 8 weeks later.)
  5. Take the license plate back to New Hampshire, and pick up the car.

Not that I had any intention of committing any kind of tax fraud; the only question was whether I could wait and register in Texas rather than go through the paperwork twice. In fact, MA is cheaper than TX, so I suppose I’m winning, but…

One added wrinkle is that the certificate of origin is transported separately from the actual car, and hadn’t arrived today, so they’re going to FedEx it to me. In the mean time, I can read the user manual. The car itself had only just been removed from the car carrier; they obviously called the moment it came in. Its audio system hadn’t been connected up and tested yet, it hadn’t been fueled, and there was still plastic film on the wheels. But, I did get to sit in it. Very nice, extremely ergonomic driving position. The sales guy seemed as excited as us.

Once we get to Austin, I have to get new insurance from a non-Massachusetts agency, because the MA agency don’t deal in out-of-state insurance. The new agency has to fax the Massachusetts one to say I’m insured with them, and then my MA policy can be cancelled. Only then can I get my MA license switched for a TX license; apparently if you switch the license before switching the insurance the police computer will flag you as uninsured.

We also went for the Toyota Platinum Warranty: 24/7 roadside assistance to the nearest Prius-trained Toyota dealer, and they’ll pay for a replacement rental car while they fix the Prius. I got the 6 years of extra coverage from Autofair, because the price they quoted me wasn’t much more than the ultra-cheap price I’d seen on the Internet, and I was obviously feeling very well disposed towards them!

So anyway…Prius! Prius! Prius!

Revenge on telemarketers

The following is a transcript of a conversation between Bob, a telemarketer for a cemetary outside Louisville Kentucky, and phone prankster comedian Tom Mabe. Name of cemetary changed to protect the guilty.

Mabe: Hello?

Bob: Is Mr. or Mrs. Maybe in please?

Mabe: This is Mr. Mabe. [Sounds of Mabe crying.]

Bob: Hi, Mr. Mabe. This is Bob, and I’m calling to you from Evergreen Cemetary. How are you today?

Mabe: Not that good.

Bob: Oh, I’m sorry. The reason I’m calling you today is to offer you some peace of mind through pre-arranged burial plots. You can rest assured that all of the details can be taken care of for you. [Sounds of Mabe sobbing] …Sir?

Mabe: Bob, you’re not going to believe this. I lost my job on Thursday. Company closed shop. My— My wife left me.

Bob: Oh, I’m sorry.

Mabe: And I’m sitting— But this— This is so bizarre. I was sitting here just contemplating suicide, and I was praying, asking God for a sign.

Bob: Yeah, but I’m just calling you because your name is on the list.

Mabe: But no, you don’t understand, just five minutes ago I was— I was just praying and asking God for a sign, and you called.

Bob: Yeah, but I’m just doing my job.

Mabe: I know, I know, but— Something’s in control, I don’t know what it is. You’re the Angel of Death, man!

Bob: Listen, is there anybody that I can call for you?

Mabe: I’ve been working with this company for about six years now, and we just got a bigger house. We have a two-bedroom house. And I lost my job. The company, they just shut down. My wife, she’s just frustrated, she’s back in Vermont. And—things aren’t working.

Bob: Do you have any kids we can call, we can contact?

Mabe: He’s six years old. He’s at his grandmother’s house. I mean, you don’t understand. I mean—just five minutes ago I was praying, saying, God, help me through this, give me a sign of some sort—and you called.

Bob: No, no, I’m not that sign.

Mabe: You’re the Angel of Death.

Bob: Look, I can call someone and have somebody come right over there for you.

Mabe: No, I’m glad that you called. I could use your services here. I mean, how much is this stuff?

Bob: Well, you know, we have different price ranges for different sorts of plots.

Mabe: Is it, is it— So it is kind of expensive, though, some of it?

Bob: No, it’s very affordable, and this way you could take care of it all.

Mabe: Do you take financing down there?

Bob: Mr. Mabe, you know, you just got done saying that you’re thinking of taking your life. Do you have, I don’t know, a credit card? Or a checking account?

Mabe: Hold on. [Sounds of Mabe crying.]

Bob: Let me ask you this: if I got the paperwork out to you, say, this afternoon, do you think you could maybe hold off until tomorrow?

—Reported in Harper’s Magazine

Instant ditz, just add stress

It’s February 1st. My current “permanent” resident card expires on the 8th. I filed the paperwork in late November—you’re not allowed to file until 90 days before the card expires.

Unfortunately, the INS service center in Vermont is currently taking 4-5 months to send out receipts (according to the national service center), followed by another 9-10 months to process the paperwork. Since I rather need to be able to keep working, I asked the national service center person for suggestions, and was told to go visit the local INS office and ask for a temporary visa and work permit extension.

So this morning I set off to the JFK Federal Building in the red tape district. (So called because it used to be the red light district, before they kicked out the whores and moved in the politicians. Ah well, there goes the neighborhood…)

I got through security, waited in a line for about 15 minutes, and got a ticket saying I was number C443. Expected wait time was 51 minutes, it said. The woman on the ticket desk told me I’d need various bits of paperwork, and of course one of them was one I didn’t have with me.

Government Center to Davis and back. 51 minutes. The music from “Run Lola Run” started playing in my head.

I needn’t have worried. When I got back and through security again, about an hour later, the sign said “Now serving C434″. I sat and read Scientific American.

When it was my turn, things went relatively smoothly. I was amused by the fact that the passwords for all the computer systems were on a piece of paper in plain view. The guy behind the desk wasn’t sure what to do, and checked with the Chief Data Librarian (or something like that). She seemed pleased that I was doing everything by the book, and actually smiled. A few minutes later I had a couple of stamps in my passport, and I was legal for another year.

I got out of the building and noticed my hands were shaking. I know they’re just a bunch of bureaucrats, but the INS always scares the crap out of me. I called sara, and suddenly realized I’d left my umbrella in the building.

Back through the security scan I went. I dashed back to the waiting room and retrieved my umbrella, and started mentally checking I hadn’t forgotten anything else. Wallet—check. Palm—check. Keys—uh…

I ran back to the security checkpoint, and told the guard I had left my keys there. Since this was my fourth visit, chances are he was starting to recognize me. I got the keys back, and did another inventory. All articles present and correct, I left the building for the last time.

After that, not much. I had lunch with sara then returned home to finish some work.