I don’t know how many times I’ve told online store owners that over the years. Some agree with me while others are steadfast in their belief that customer service shouldn’t exist in the online world.

I got fired up on this topic again after reading a post in one of the forums I frequent. In response to asking if it was acceptable to use voice mail to take messages from customers, someone responded by saying, “Not at all.. with pricing what it is today.. people get a greeting saying we no longer accept orders by phone.”

Bang head here.

You no longer accept orders by phone? Are you kidding me?

The poster went on to say, “Can you call Netflix? Sometimes it makes no sense to take phone calls… sure, I lose out every now and then but it is what it is. That’s the prices you demand to pay, that is the service you get. (sounds bad, I know but welcome to the web).”

Yes, you can call Netflix. The number is right on their website and here it is for future reference – 1-877-742-1480.

And by the way, they answer the phone 24-7.

I can’t come up with one example of when it doesn’t make sense to take phone calls. Customer service departments get calls from customers asking questions about a product, looking for information on how to return an item, asking for their package tracking number and believe it or not – to place an order (aka SPEND MONEY).

If you’re not there to answer a question about a product, the customer is going to move on to your competition. If I were calling in and the auto attendant told me, “sorry, we don’t take orders by phone,” I would be very leery of even placing an order online.

Using the “price you pay equals the service you get” excuse doesn’t cut it with me. Hiring a part-time person or two to answer calls from potential and existing customers can easily be made up by the number of orders those people are going to take versus the ones you’re going to lose. Same can be said for outsourcing calls to a call center.

I have a hard time buying into excuses for providing sub-par or no customer service. If you’re in business, take customer service seriously or get out. Customers who are willing to give you their hard earned money deserve to be able to talk to someone on the phone if they need to.

I would love to be this customer’s competitor, because you can bet that I would promote the hell out of how my store offers superior customer service and would prominently display the phone number on my website.

You work awfully hard to build your business, market it and hope that people will come in and buy. Why would you limit the opportunity to be successful just because you don’t want to deal with phone calls.

Makes no sense to me.

The other day, I ran into someone I haven’t seen in about two weeks. He went on to explain that he was in New York for a few days and how much he hates to fly.

The conversation took a weird turn when he explained that when he gets onto an airplane, before fastening the seat belt, he puts on a dust mask. After all, when you cram 170 people in a tube for a few hours where people are hacking, sneezing, blowing their nose and breathing stale, recirculated air, planes are nothing more than a flying petri dish.

I rack up about 100,000 air miles a year and have been lucky enough not to catch anything on a plane other than the occasional cold and a miserable seat mate.

He got me thinking about whether or not I should take his que. After all, in Japan when someone has a cold, they always wear a mask to avoid spreading the wealth. Here in America however, I think the presence of someone wearing a mask wouldn’t be so conventional.

“Oh my God, he must have some strange disease!”

“Look at that idiot.”

“Who wears a mask on a plane?”

“I don’t want to sit next to him.”

“Terrorist!”

I don’t necessarily consider myself a germaphobe, but people have their ways of grossing me out at times. But at least I’m not alone. This morning I noticed one of my Facebook friends posted this, “I can’t imagine standing a chocolate fountain at Golden Corral with a bunch of random people and their kids, with everyone dipping stuff in there and eating it.”

I couldn’t agree more, and it’s why I don’t eat at buffets.

Swimming pools also freak me out. Diapers, on little people and the elderly, leak. And when they leak in the pool, they’re leaking in the water I’m cooling off in. Just this past weekend, one swimming pool at the club I belong to was shut down for a few hours after a diaper incident.

“Ah, chlorine will kill everything.”

Chlorine may kill the germs, masks may stop them from entering my body and skipping the buffet may save me from scurvy. But there’s not a thing in the world that will stop me from thinking about it.

“Coming up next, the FedEx video that went viral. What does Fred Smith have to say about it.”

With a lead in like that, I had to stop channel surfing for a few minutes and see what the fuss was all about.

In the true sense of sensational journalism, the 10 minute piece NBC’s Brian Williams did on FedEx, the YouTube video of the rogue FedEx delivery man tossing a computer monitor over a fence took up less than a minute of the entire story.

But it got me to watch, so I guess the teaser did exactly what it was supposed to do.

The story showed Williams, who appears to be aging faster than Obama, hitching a ride on a FedEx plane en route to their Memphis hub were on any given weekday evening 150 planes land – 1 every 90 seconds. The 10,000 workers in this little city sort 10 million pounds of packages a night ensuring that the pair of skivvies you ordered Next Day Air gets delivered on time.

A few years ago I was invited to the FedEx St. Jude’s Classic in Memphis which included a tour of their hub. To say it was an awesome experience would be an understatement. Watching packages travel through a huge building on conveyor belts from your living room is nothing compared to seeing that happen in person.

The noise in the building is deafening. There’s no talking, as there isn’t time for nonsense. Workers sort, bag, tag, scan and load packages like a well oiled machine. The hub is truly a living organism.

Many of the tasks workers do seem mundane and repetitive. I don’t think I would be able to spend a shift putting boxes and envelopes bar code up so they get scanned by the myriad of laser beams that cover the packages as they make their way through the system.

I recall looking out on the airfield and as far as the eye can see, planes were stacked in the sky ready to land with cargo in need of sorting. Nearby, a taxiway was lined with planes waiting to depart.

The highlight of my visit was flying one of FedEx’s DC9′s.

I buckled myself into the pilot’s seat with a seasoned FedEx airman playing co-captain. We slowly made our way onto the runway, got clearance to take off and we both pushed the throttle as the jet engines came to life.

Shortly after becoming airborne, something went terribly wrong. I lost control of the plane and before reaching our cruising altitude we slammed into the ground.

Luckily for both of us this was just a flight in one of the many flight simulators FedEx uses to train their pilots.

As Williams was wrapping up his interview with Fred Smith, the founder and CEO of FedEx, he asked what he thought of the video. Smith, using carefully crafted words, said he was disappointed but didn’t offer up any unnecessary commentary.

“What’s the one question you get asked the most as the founder of FedEx?” Williams said.

With a smile on his face, Smith responded “Do you know your logo has an arrow in it?”

I hit the pause button on the TiVo and stared at the FedEx plane in the background, trying to find exactly where this illusive arrow is.

Shit.

There is was. Up front and center. After seeing that logo for years I never noticed it until now.

Can you find it?

Where's the arrow - click the image to see it!

Pam from BlairCandy.com models the Pop Phone from Native Union.

“Hey, nice phone.”

At first I thought the guy with the Just for Men beard was making fun of me. I was ready to retaliate with some sarcasim about his pink shirt, but I realized he was serious when he asked me where I got it.

For as much as I love the iPhone, talking on it can be somewhat of a chore. Depending on how you hold it, you’re prone to dropped calls. If your cheek touches the screen in just the right spot, you either put your caller on hold or hang up on them.

In an attempt to limit the brain frying radiation emitted from my cell phone, I began a search for a headset that didn’t involve something hanging off my ear like some type of alien appendage.

I stumbled upon the Native Union Pop Phone and I fell in love.

As a fan of all things retro, the Pop Phone turns your iPhone into a cool looking communication device straight out of the 1950′s. The familiar look and feel of a traditional Ma Bell handset is replicated with a bit of a style update in the form of multiple colors.

After plugging it into my phone for the first time I remember saying to myself, “man I can actually hear the conversation now.”

Everyone who has seen me use the Native Union Pop Phone headset has asked about it. I’m beginning to wonder if it’s because of the color I chose. I ordered red, but their version of red is actually a bit on the pink side. But hey, it takes a real man to use a pink phone, right?

I also ordered the Native Union MM5 (aka Moshi Moshi) headset for the sleek looks, but the call quality is very poor as everything echoes due to the hollow design of the handset. I wasn’t impressed with it at all, and after hearing too many complaints from people on the other end, I ditched it.

Sorry Native Union.

If you’re looking for something cool that is guaranteed to be a conversation starter, pick up a Pop Phone, they’re only around $30.

Just stay away from the red.

“Do you have a pen I could borrow?”

I looked around my work space and there was nothing. I opened my laptop bag and I came up empty. Not a pen or pencil in sight.

Thinking about it, it’s not that often that I use a pen or pencil anymore. If I need to take notes during a meeting, I whip out the laptop or iPad. If I need to remind myself to do something, I add it to the “To Do” list on my iPhone. I don’t write checks to pay bills, as I do that through online banking. Forget addressing envelopes, if I need to get something to someone, I do it either by email or fax.

The only time I could think that I use a pen is when I need to sign my name on a credit card receipt.

What used to be something you carried around with you in your shirt pocket or in your purse is now relegated to the junk drawer in the kitchen.

Thank you technology.

I remember living at home, answering the phone and saying to the caller on the other end, “let me grab a pen and I’ll take a message.” No need to jot down phone messages any more, voice mail took the ink out of that quill.

Forget pencils. Those forest killing, number 2′s that we all used to fill in circles that eventually told us how smart we were or weren’t had their obituary written long ago. They’ve been replaced by mechanical, plastic types without death inducing lead.

Office supply stores still stock a variety of pens and faux-pencils but I can’t imagine sales are brisk.

I got a Waterman for Christmas a few years ago, and it’s a beauty. Although there’s not much reason to use it anymore. My father always had a gold Cross pen that he would use. I think that was his pen of choice because of the lifetime warranty, I remember him getting several replacements over the years.

My personal favorite pen was always the Bic Biro. Plain white barrel, medium point, blue ink. My least favorite pen was always a Papermate. The ink always smudged leaving the side of pinky finger inky.

Has the pen disappeared from your life, or have I just become too connected?

Can you feel the excitement in my voice?

As a single guy of 40 (almost 41), it’s one of those holidays that I wish would just go away. Not because there’s no romance in my life, but because it screws with my normal routine.

For example, unless I want to get the “pity look” from couples sucking down champagne and eating pasta like the two dogs in Lady and the Tramp, I can’t go out for dinner tonight. Oh, I could go… but have you ever tried to get into a restaurant on Valentine’s Day?

It’s almost like New Years Eve when the people who only go to a restaurant once a year feel the need to have lobster and get drunk off a glass of cheap wine.

God, I hate that.

I could stay home and order a pizza. But do I really want a large with pepperoni and extra sauce in the shape of a heart?

I was thinking of going to the movies, but that would be worse than getting the “pity look.”

I’m watching my Facebook newsfeed fill up with pictures of flowers that people got delivered at work and at home, while the only thing I got delivered was the hot dog and fries I had for lunch.

The hot dog was kosher. It’s the only kind I’ll eat.

I did send flowers to some of my lady friends today. Granted they weren’t dozens of long stemmed American Beauty Roses, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

While they’re thinking about how sweet I was to remember them, all I can keep thinking about is the $39.98 “service charge” that was tacked on to the order. At least I can say I got screwed on Valentine’s Day.

Cupid’s holiday isn’t that bad, I guess. Neither is a bleeding hemorrhoid.

They’re both just a pain in the ass.

Last week it was, “are you getting in on the Power Ball?”

The answers to both questions were a resounding “no.”

You see, I’m not a lucky person. I shouldn’t say that, so let me rephrase it. When it comes to winning anything, I’m not a lucky person.

I bought plenty church bazaar tickets over the years. I never won.

I’ve gotten those scratch off tickets from people as gifts. I never won.

I stopped entering the Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes, because you guessed it… I never won.

I often joke that I could sit at a whorehouse for a week and not get lucky.

Some people do have the gift of luck, but not me.

My brother Mark plays the daily number every day. He’s been doing it for years, but I’ve never heard of him hitting any jackpot. My one friend was a casino junkie who dropped plenty and had some big wins. Until his luck changed.

I used to work with a guy by the name of Ed Wallison. Like my brother, Ed would play the number every day and would track the number that was drawn every night in a tattered notebook. One day I walked into the studio to begin my shift and Ed was there going through his notebook.

“I’m looking to find the pattern Scotty,” he said.

“Do you think there is one Ed,” I asked.

“There has to be, look at this,” he said as he pointed to one page where he listed the number of times a certain combination came up.

“Did you play those numbers?”

He mumbled something under his breath which immediately told me the answer was “no.”

Ed died. Not as a lottery winner, but as someone still looking for the pattern.

Snakes and rats don’t need much of an explanation, but let me continue…

I don’t care if it’s the buffet at the local diner or the one at the Bellagio, they make the top three list of scary things in the book of Sanfilippo.

It’s not the food that fills the steam table or the salad bar loaded with fresh greens, it’s the people that stand in line and partake of the buffet that freak me out.

I’ve seen people take food off buffets with their forks. Put something on a dirty plate and put it back. Touch food with their bare fingers. Scratch themselves then grab the soup ladle. Sneeze, wipe their hands on the pants, then reach for a roll.

I’m gagging just writing about it.

Some people just love buffets. For $9.99 they can stuff themselves silly on Grade D beef, well done chicken, something that resembles fish and still have room for soft serve ice cream from a machine that may not have been sanitized in a while.

On a recent layover, I stopped in the airline’s lounge to catch up on email. After a few beers, I had to answer nature’s call. As I was walking away from the urinal, a man came out of the stall, walked over to the mirror, straightened his shirt and walked out of the restroom.

Soap and water never touched his hands, but as I made my way through the club, I caught him knuckles deep in a bowl of peanuts.

I politely asked the bartender to throw the nuts away.

One of the first things parents teach their children is how to wash their hands. It’s also the first thing adults forget how to do.

Poor hygiene is blamed for the outbreaks of norovirus on cruise ships. One passenger who feels he/she doesn’t need to use hot water and a little soap after making wee wee can wreak havoc on vacation goers as we’ve seen during the past few weeks on the Crown Princess from Princess Cruise Line.

When an outbreak of the stomach bug hits a ship, the first thing they do is close down self service buffets. Why? Because they’re the easiest place for germs to be carried from one person to another and a big reason why these bountiful displays of food scare the crap out of me.

Now if we can only stop the germ carrying custom of shaking hands, I’ll be much happier.

Like millions of Americans, I’m hoping for a refund.

At the same time, I’m reminded that hope springs eternal.

While going through all the scraps of paper that make up this bundle, I found stuff that sparked a few memories, a chuckle and about ten minutes of fighting back tears.

I found the receipt for $32.50 for 9 holes of golf, club rentals and a cart. Looking at the faded piece of paper, I couldn’t tell if this was before or after I wasted money on lessons. I did recall that this game lasted all of three holes before I threw the clubs back in the cart and said, “%$#@ this.”

There was the receipt for the Indian restaurant I begrudgingly went to with a group of friends that gave me an intense fear of this type of cuisine that will remain with me for life.

A tax form for the $1250 I won at a casino made it into the box. I remember that night pretty well. I put $50 in a $5 machine and in three spins, I won. Like a good boy, I left with my winnings in my pocket and I haven’t been back since; making me just the kind of customer casinos love.

Then there was the folder with thousands upon thousands of dollars of medical bills for my buddy, Peanut. “Damn it,” I said as I went through page upon page reading doctors notes detailing his condition and what we were to do to make his final months as comfortable as possible.

As a tear came to my eye, I looked down to my right at Baby who’s sound asleep in the bed she would share with her best friend. As she snored, I tossed the file into the trash, sealed up the box and sent it off to be shipped.

Just then the phone rang.

“What’s the matter, you sound a little down. Is everything ok?” the voice on the other end asked.

“Yep, everything is fine. Just gathering stuff for my taxes.”

I can’t imagine that it’s worth as much as say, a Picaso, but it has to be worth something.

The artist is an unknown, who simply goes by the name Kelly Ann.

Its whimsy splashes of color on the canvas have no rhyme or reason and it doesn’t bear a fancy name like “Springtime in Mauch Chunk.”

I was hosting a weekly talk radio program about pets at the time and the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Baily Circus was in town. Along with giving away circus tickets, I had the opportunity to go onsite and interview one of the elephant trainers.

Off to the circus I went, microphone and recorder in hand to learn about what it takes to travel the country with these amazing – and huge – animals. I chatted with Troy Metzler, a longtime Ringling elephant trainer, who talked about how they’re transported, the massive amounts of food they consume, how they’re cared for day in and day out, and about Ringling’s Center for Elephant Conservation in Florida.

I got to get up close and personal with these gentle giants who convinced me that they’re smarter than some humans. Although apparently not smart enough to “hold it” until the interview was over, but that trait keeps a guy with a shovel employed.

I aired the interview and had a representative from the circus in the studio to talk about the other animals that make up the Greatest Show on Earth. Before leaving, she presented me with a painting done by one of the “stars” of the circus – a two year old Asian elephant.

Before each performance, Kelly Ann would display her skills by taking trunk to tempra to create original “elephant art.” A quick Google search shows that the pachyderm, who is now 12, still delights audiences with her artistic abilities.

From the bonds they form with humans and other elephants, to their gentle nature that is often displayed in venues like the circus, elephants are fascinating creatures. Some may argue that using animals for entertainment is wrong, but we all have our own opinions.

I don’t think I’m holding onto a piece of art that’s going to make me rich, but I’m holding onto something that has special meaning.

Even if it’s from an elephant.