SLAGIAT

I've created an acronym for something I find myself repeating over and over and over whenever I'm answering questions about how to keep your family treasures safe.

Seemed like a good idea at the time (SLAGIAT).

There are things you can do to a photograph today that won't look like they've caused any damage. But if you worked with historical records for even a short time, you'd see lots of seemingly innocent items that change dramatically over time. Have you ever seen a forty year old rubber band? Blech. And lots of times the items suffer some kind of damage, usually staining. Damage that could have been avoided so easily.

Examples of SLAGIAT:

• encapsulation
• tape
• ink
• bare hands (fingerprints)
• rubber bands
• chemical cleaners

We had a SLAGIAT question on the radio show.

Problem: Fire-damaged prints.

If they are so soot covered that you can't see what's in the photo, you've got (literally) nothing to lose. In that case, you might as well try an extreme measure like chemical cleaners. Once you clean it enough to get a visible image, make a high resolution scan. Print our copies at your favorite photo processor.

If the fire damage is just a little bit of darkening or an occasional smudge, I would recommend scanning the photos and restoring them digitally. Do not apply chemical solvents to the prints. Do not attempt to wipe them off.

Bottom line? There are times when drastic measures are necessary, but just make sure the cure isn't worse than the disease.

Pssst...there's something you should know. My views on chemical cleaners are considered overly cautious to the point of being extreme. Professionals photographers don't think twice about cleaning prints and film. Many scanning companies (especially in the publishing world) clean prints as a matter of routine. Archival supply companies sell the cleaners. But just because you can't see any damage today doesn't mean you haven't caused irreversible chemical damage.

Preservation is all about caution:

• Don't do anything you can't undo.
• Eliminate all known hazards.
  
• Avoid likely hazards.

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Dear Expedia, You're Fired

I don't plan to do this kind of blog entry on a regular basis. But last week I got an email from Expedia.com with the following subject line:

URGENT: PLEASE CALL Flight change for SALLYJ JACOBS

Whoa! Look at ALL THOSE CAPS. They must have canceled one of my flights or something. Yikes! What am I going to do? I didn't see the email until late at night, so the next day I write down my Booking ID and call 1-800-Expedia. It would have been nice if they bothered to include the actual numbers instead of forcing me hunt and peck out “e-x-p-e-d-i-a” but, whatever. That’s a minor quibble.

A computer answers my call. Nothing new here. It asks me if my call is about an existing itinerary. I say yes, feeling uncomfortable and idiotic talking out loud to a computer when other (real) people can hear me. Then it asks me for my itinerary number. Not the Booking ID. The computer helpfully tells me that the number I need to say out loud begins with a “1” – so it’s obvious that "LULLPN" (the Booking ID) isn't what they want.

So I tell the computer I do not have my itinerary number. Yes, I have to actually say out loud: "I do not have my itinerary number." Que idiota! The disembodied male voice seems OK with that, and patches me through to another phone. Then a female computer voice comes on the line and informs me that they cannot take my call right now, I should hang up and try again later.

This was an *URGENT: PLEASE CALL* situation, remember?

Those were Expedia’s words, not mine. Sigh.

So I go back to the original email and try to find the itinerary number. Oh, look! There it is. Underneath the phrase “For Internal use only.” I write down the number with another sigh, wondering how much of my lunch break this is going to take up.

I pick up the phone and call again. This time at least I can hit re-dial so I don’t have to figure out each number based on its letter. I say my itinerary number out loud for the computer. Then I’m on hold for about 10 minutes.

Guess what the customer service rep requests right away? That's right. My itinerary number. I ask her if she needs it for confirmation or because she doesn’t actually have the number. (I’ve taken phone orders for a catalog company, so I have some familiarity with how the process works.) She doesn’t have it because she’s on a different computer system and can’t see any information I already provided.

While I’ve got you on the line, I said, can you forward a note to the email wing of customer service and ask them not to hide that important number at the bottom? Maybe a simple line like: “Please have your itinerary number ready when you call.” You know, nothing fancy. Well, no actually.

She’s really nice about it and agrees with me that it would be better, but she’s not set up to do that. Ohhhhh Kay. How about after we’re finished here, you forward me to someone who can make a note of my suggestion? Sorry. She can’t do that, either. How about a phone number other than 1-800-Expedia? Nope. Charm (that’s the name she gave me) was very nice about it, and even offered to write down a note for me -- but it was clear she had no idea who to send it to. Basically, that was a complete dead end. One lunch break wasted.

Oh, and the punchline?

Not a single departure or arrival time had changed on my itinerary. Just one of the flight numbers. Now, I’ll grant you that’s a crucial piece of information that I needed to have. But how difficult would it have been to simply send me an email saying: “All the times of your flights are exactly the same, but Delta changed one of the numbers. Here's the new number.”

Instead, they chose to inform me that "Delta Airlines has notified us of an update to your flight itinerary. You must contact Expedia as soon as possible to provide instructions of how you would like for us to proceed."

And since the only way I have to contact Expedia customer service is that single 800 number, I can’t even let them know. The return address for the original email is a very unhelpful: NO-REPLY@CUSTOMERCARE.EXPEDIA.COM>.

So now I’m taking advantage of this teeny tiny little soapbox to rant about my experience. Thanks for indulging me, and by all means let me know if you have a way to contact Expedia directly. On the upside, I've already learned about alternatives from coworkers who heard my sad tale. There's one called Kayak that seems promising.
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