Refund Quotes

Hey!” I said, indignation filling me. “I’m immortal! Doesn’t that mean I won’t get saggy boobs and gray hair? Because if it doesn’t mean that, I want a refund—

They really kicked me out?" "Refunded the tuition and everything." Julie blinked a couple of times coming to grips with this tidbit. "So what happens now?" "I expect you'll be a bum. Homeless and jobless begging on the street for a crust of bread..." "Kate." "Oh, alright, I suppose if you come by the office once in a while I'll give you a sandwich. You can squat in the office on the floor when it gets too cold outside. We can even get you a little blanket to lie on...

There are no refunds and no exchanges with love. It comes with flaws and imperfections. It’s raw, unfiltered, and sometimes it isn’t easy. But I’ve found the best things in this life are the ones I’ve had to work hardest for.

Don’t trade emotional currency with strangers. You will never get a refund.

Selling eternal life is an unbeatable business, with no customers ever asking for their money back after the goods are not delivered.

...But the heart is not a computer that can be upgraded so quickly and easily with the latest version of love. Love cannot be sealed hermetically inside a tight box like any other on the store shelf; even though the word itself is in public domain, its quality is not. Love cannot promise a full customer satisfaction garanteed or a whole lifetime of dreams shared refunded, with no questions asked. Love cannot be agreed to in terms and conditions as quickly as the "Next" button being clicked. These unspoken terms and conditions grow and develop over time until it gets very messy, and no one remembers how such a mess of accusation and anger was able to overshadow their pure ecstasy of love, the spark between two people turning on a new operation system of togetherness for the first time. Love is always beta; never a golden master. If love were a computer, constant bug reports and subsequent fixes are the name of the game, and there are many unexplained breakdowns. The heart is too stubborn for explanations and too impatient for forgiveness, and there is usually no one at the tech support line. Forgive me stan, if I've crashed so often. It's just to hard to boot up to a whole new future without you. I am an empty monitor in search of a "hello.

You know if the U.S. Government wanted to boost the economy there's a simple solution make Black Friday the refund date for your state and federal taxes

Money is a madness, a delusion-illusion. It’s not made of metal, really. It’s made of time. How much is one’s time worth? If one can convince enough people that one’s time is an invaluable resource, then one has lots and lots of money. That’s why one can spend time—only one can never get a refund.

Life sucked and then they billed you for it. Kind of like how airlines charged you money before you got on a plane so that in the event they screwed up and killed you, they were already paid, and they wouldn’t have to give you a refund.

He wanted to write someone and demand a refund on his dark side which clearly ought to have irresistible magical power but had turned out to be defective.

Trouble can be purchased cheaply, though the refund may be more than you can bear.

fishing equipment and lawn mowers, bought the goods in one branch of Kmart and then returned them in other branches for a full refund. Like most crooks with a workable scam, Virgil Freer did it once

Alexandra was one of those people who had gone through life at no cost to themselves; had she been obliged to pay any emotional bills during her earthly life, Jean Louise could imagine her stopping at the check-in desk in heaven and demanding a refund.

Damn adulthood. He wanted to send it back for a full refund.

Additionally, I have spent approximately 1,736 hours of this one precious life waiting for the man to finish and pretending that felt good. And I want a refund.

There are no refunds and no exchanges with love. It comes with flaws and imperfections. It’s raw, unfiltered, and sometimes it isn’t easy.

Attention, shoppers! Discount specials on Harry Dresden’s life. Slightly used, no refunds, limit one per customer. Shop smart. Shop S-Mart.

I'm not canceling this trip.” She added the words that strike terror into every traveler's heart. “It's non-refundable.

A winner never quits and a quitter can get a partial refund on that gym membership you never use.

I didn’t like how easy it was for someone like Gabby, in her position of privilege, to punch down. At all. It was such an unfair power dynamic. She was like a kid wielding her one-star reviews like a toy, for fun. Only it wasn’t a game. It was someone’s livelihood. And here was Daniel, doing what he felt was the right thing, refunding the whole weekend. He was in the worst position to be generous, yet he was. And she was in the best position to show grace, and she didn’t. And doing it would have cost her nothing. And that was the fundamental difference between them.

Without any wind blowing, the sheer weight of a raindrop, shining in parasitic luxury on a cordate leaf, caused its tip to dip, and what looked like a globule of quicksilver performed a sudden glissando down the centre vein, and then, having shed its bright load, the relieved leaf unbent. Tip, leaf, dip, relief - the instant it all took to happen seemed to me not so much a fraction of time as a fissure in it, a missed heartbeat, which was refunded at once by a patter of rhymes: I say 'patter' intentionally, for when a gust of wind did come, the trees would briskly start to drip all together in as crude an imitation of the recent downpour as the stanza I was already muttering resembled the shock of wonder I had experienced when for a moment heart and leaf had been one.

Looks like Madison Estates isn't going to get built; my husband and I bought property there, but someone called this week to say they're refunding us our deposit because they didn't presell enough houses to finance the project. Another paper town for KS!- Marge in Cawker, KS

These modern analysts! They charge so much. In my day, for five marks Freud himself would treat you. For ten marks, he would treat you and press your pants. For fifteen marks, Freud would let you treat him, and that included a choice of any two vegetables. Thirty dollars an hour! Fifty dollars an hour! The Kaiser only got twelve and a quarter for being Kaiser! And he had to walk to work! And the length of treatment! Two years! Five years! If one of us couldn’t cure a patient in six months we would refund his money, take him to any musical revue and he would receive either a mahogany fruit bowl or a set of stainless steel carving knives. I remember you could always tell the patients Jung failed with, as he would give them large stuffed pandas.

Today is non-refundable. Therefore, I’d better live it in a manner that a refund is unnecessary.

Tell you now children—you’re all gonna die. No hand stamp reentry, no refund, no lie. —Found written on a bathroom stall in Disneyland, June 6th, 1988

When you really want something, when you lust, seek, desire, await, anticipate or expect, when you sit in front of the TV after the late news twirling a plastic spoon in a bowl of lukewarm skim milk and saturated puffs of Special K, praying for nine or so hours to pass so that you can check the morning mail to see if the college accepted, the one-night stand wrote, the tax refund arrived or Publisher's Clearing House made you the winner of a dream house in Wisconsin, when you're really looking forward to something, that's when Fortuna dispatches a couple of her handmaidens to drop a load of shit on you.

If you sell me a horse that throws a shoe, or starts to limp, or spooks at shadows, I will miss a valuable opportunity. A quite unrecoverable opportunity. If that happens, I will not come back and demand a refund. I will not petition the constable. I will walk back to Imre this very night and set fire to your house. Then, when you run out the front door in your nightshirt and stockle-cap, I will kill you, cook you, and eat you. Right there on your lawn while all your neighbors watch.

Death and taxes in life are certain, knowing how to pay only your fair share is third.

Many people today think that the Tea Act—which led to the Boston Tea Party—was simply an increase in the taxes on tea paid by the American colonists. That's where the whole "Taxation Without Representation" meme came from. Instead, the purpose of the Tea Act was to give the East India Company full and unlimited access to the American tea trade and to exempt the company from having to pay taxes to Britain on tea exported to the American colonies. It even gave the company a tax refund on millions of pounds of tea that it was unable to sell and holding in inventory. In other words, the Tea Act was the largest corporate tax break in the history of the world.

Upon its debut, The Room was a spectacular bomb, pulling in all of $1,800 during its initial two-week Los Angeles run. It wasn’t until the last weekend of the film’s short release that the seeds of its eventual cultural salvation were planted. While passing a movie theater, two young film students named Michael Rousselet and Scott Gairdner noticed a sign on the ticket booth that read: NO REFUNDS. Below the sign was this blurb from a review: “Watching this film is like getting stabbed in the head.” They were sold.

Sloan & Dex... “You skipped puberty didn’t you?” Dex let out a wistful sigh. “It wasn’t for me.” Sloane laughed as he carried Dex out of the room. “You’re hopeless.” “I’m also nonrefundable.” “Surely there’s a return policy.” “Forget it. You’re way past the thirty-day refund period. You’re stuck with me now. And before you ask, I’m also nontransferable and nonexchangeable. If you donate me to charity there’s no tax write-off because technically that would be considered Human trafficking.” “Wow. You’ve got your bases covered.” “You bet. Should have paid more attention to the Dexter J. Daley boyfriend agreement.” Sloane dropped him onto the counter and stepped between his legs to pull him close. “I don’t recall this boyfriend agreement.” “You might have been sleeping at the time, but sleep during the reading of the DJDBA is covered in the fine print. As long as you have a pulse, you’re considered present and accounted for.” “Duly noted.

I wanted to tell her that undocumented people couldn’t receive food benefits or tax refunds, even though they paid taxes. They couldn’t receive any government benefits at all. Those were available only for people who were born here or who had obtained the documents to stay. So those children, whose parents had risked so much to give them a good life, were citizens who deserved every bit as much government help as my daughter did.

You were a town with one pay phone and someone else was using it. You were an ATM temporarily unable to dispense cash. You were an outdated link and the server was down. You were invisible to the naked eye. You were the two insect parts per million allowed in peanut butter. You were a car wash that me as dirty as when I pulled in. You were twenty rotting bags of rice in the hold of a cargo plane sitting on the runway in a drought-riddled country. You were one job opening for two hundred applicants and you paid minimum wage. You were grateful for my submission but you just couldn't use it. You weren't a Preferred Provider. You weren't giving any refunds. You weren't available for comment. Your grave wasn't marked so I wandered the cementary for hours, part of the grass, part of the crumbling stones.

Time resources are not refundable.

You’re owed a refund on your manhood.

Happiness is overrated; it’s far too short-lived, for a start. If you bought it on Amazon, you’d demand a refund. Broke after a month and impossible to fix. Next time will try misery—apparently that shit lasts forever.

It was your covenant with the devil to exchange your soul for money and fame, so i won't be sorry for your damn f***ing soul, and the devil gat no time to refund what you had already sell, demons don't understand the meaning of sympathy, you should know that already, so, go make some dollar bill in hell, and come back and give me some.

A life full of promise. But that’s all life ever is. A promise. Not a guarantee. We like to believe we have our place all set out in the future, but we only have a reservation. Life can be canceled at any moment, with no warning, no refund, no matter how far along you are in the journey. Even if you’ve barely had time to take in the scenery.

The evidence suggests that when people get a windfall—and this seems to be the way people think about their tax refund, despite it being expected—they tend to save a larger proportion from it than they do from regular income, especially if the windfall is sizable.

There are 1,440 minutes in each day. Each minute is dear. Once it is spent, there is no way to receive a refund. We cannot purchase more. We cannot press pause on life to resume it at a more convenient time. Time is not a resource to be wasted, killed, or allowed to fly away from us without our being aware of where it went.

Spend our lives. Minutes as currency. It’s like we’re paying God, handing Her our time in exchange for more breath: Here’s a minute, here’s another minute, another. And sometimes I want to be like, Can I have a refund? Or maybe an exchange. A new life. A new me. Because I’m only seventeen and I feel broke. Like I spent my life already.

If I'd known how the week was going to turn out I would have sent it back first thing Monday and asked for a refund.

Never sacrifice your children for the bigger house, fancier car or the 'better life'. The price you pay is hefty and non-refundable in the end.

Spend just two hours reading this chapter and if you don’t get at least one good idea for your business, contact me and I will give you a refund!1

They kept yelling at me to pay attention during school, since education hasn't panned out for me can I get a refund, or at least a rebate?

After awhile, life becomes technical college. You can’t be anything you want to be. You can be, like, twenty things. That’s it.” - "Refund" from Shake Away These Constant Days

Regrets are non-refundable.

Most of us have done fairly well in our lives. We learned how to run on that one wheel, but now we want a refund.

In life, if you are refused membership to a club, you get a refund check for dues paid; what happens to your tithes if Jesus denies you entry to God's Paradise? Mal. 3:10.

A reputation ruined on the front page was never restored by a retraction on the last. The guillotine gives no refunds, and neither does the press.

Willa wondered how many tuition dollars they’d invested in this conversation, and whether she could get a refund; she wished they would all shut up and eat.

Money comes and goes but time has no refund

We can definitely afford this; we’ll just pay for it with the refund check” became a Christmas mantra.

a raccoon had stolen his bag of Cheetos and demand that the park service refund his money.

Enough with the angel bit,” I said. “I’m not kidding. If the universe gave me you as my angel, then I deserve a refund.

I want a refund. I just drank three litres of your balsamic vinegar and now I feel dreadful. Why does your label not say ‘DO NOT DRINK THREE LITRES OF THIS’?

The retail industry has its own headache: it loses $16 billion a year to customers who buy clothes, wear them with the tags tucked in, and return these secondhand clothes for a full refund.

You just bought yourself a world of trouble.” “But I ordered one of peace and love. I’d like to return the one of trouble or get a full refund,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I have the receipt somewhere.

I truly believe the greatest gift God has ever given me was Shane Dekkar. He changed my life and allowed me to see things in myself I would have never seen … He taught me what love was truly about …Today, I am a truly different person, and I have Shane to thank for opening my eyes. … although he is the greatest gift ever, he’s like any other gift; he can be returned for a refund if he doesn’t quite fit.—Kace I suppose we never truly know how we’ll react to a given situation until it presents itself.—Shane You know, worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet is like building a dam for a river that doesn’t exist. It’s kind of dumb…—Kace

I have no sunk costs.’”49 Sunk costs—anchoring decisions to past efforts that can’t be refunded—are a devil in a world where people change over time. They make our future selves prisoners to our past, different, selves. It’s the equivalent of a stranger making major life decisions for you.

The weird thing is that, when normal, inevitable challenges come up – like a refund request – some people not only fall down, they launch themselves down a snake/chute and refuse to play the game again, convinced they’re a failure. They quit, or remain paralyzed by fear, shame, and indecision for years.

Serving the customer (“customer service”) is not becoming a personal concierge and catering to their every whim and want. Customer service is providing an excellent product at an acceptable price and solving legitimate problems (lost packages, replacements, refunds, etc.) in the fastest manner possible. That’s it.

If that happens, I will not come back and demand a refund. I will not petition the constable. I will walk back to Imre this very night and set fire to your house. Then, when you run out the front door in your nightshirt and stockle-cap, I will kill you, cook you, and eat you. Right there on your lawn while all your neighbors watch.

Sympathy and guilt, they note, operate within a circle of communal relationships.40 They are less likely to be felt in exchange or equality-matching relationships, the kind we have with acquaintances, neighbors, colleagues, associates, clients, and service providers. Exchange relationships are regulated by norms of fairness and are accompanied by emotions that are cordial rather than genuinely sympathetic. When we harm them or they harm us, we can explicitly negotiate the fines, refunds, and other forms of compensation that rectify the harm. When that is not possible, we reduce our distress by distancing ourselves from them or derogating them. The businesslike quid pro quo negotiations that can repair an exchange relationship are, we shall see, generally taboo in our communal relationships, and the option of severing a communal relationship comes with a high cost.41 So we repair our communal relationships with the messier but longer-lasting emotional glue of sympathy, guilt, and forgiveness.

What the fuck kind of cruel joke was this? Elsa stared at the last page for nearly a minute in dumbfounded shock and denial. If she hadn’t stolen the damned thing, she would’ve demanded a refund. She felt like screaming at the top of her lungs, but instead, all that came out was lunatic laughter. She really was insane and Mr. Black was all to blame.

The point is that everyone needs some exposure to the various ways of life. People buy things out of catalogues too much. They see in Time magazine that they're suppose to be feeling in such and such a way, and they dash off a check and buy that life-style sight unseen. A pig in a poke if there ever was one, for once you've bought the thing there's no refund. We ought to be able to try things before we sign up for them. Used to be you could listen to the records in a record store before you bought them. Now they're sealed, for your protection, they say. Bullshit! It's for their goddamned protection, not ours. We don't need to be protected. We need to be allowed to get a taste of something before we accept it.

Death." Gansey read the bottom of the card. He didn't sound surprised or alarmed. He just read the words like he would read eggs or Cincinnati. "Great job, Maura," Calla said. Her arms were crossed firmly over her chest. "You going to interpret that for the kid?" "Possibly we should just give him a refund," Persephone suggested, although Gansey had not yet paid.

Plus, there’s an even darker side to goal setting. Chasing goals often leads companies to compromise their morals, honesty, and integrity to reach those fake numbers. The best intentions slip when you’re behind. Need to improve margins by a few points? Let’s turn a blind eye to quality for a while. Need to find another $800,000 this quarter to hit that number? Let’s make it harder for customers to request refunds.

Rich Cordray did. Rich was fearless, and he led by example. Among other things, he investigated Capital One for misleading customers about the costs of “free” add-ons to their credit cards—“free” services that actually cost customers a total of $140 million. (He ultimately forced Capital One to send the hidden fees back to every customer—and not one customer had to file papers or ask for a refund because the checks came automatically in the mail. Rich and his team also hit up the company to pay an additional $25 million fine.)

Rockefeller immediately put those insights to use. At twenty-five, a group of investors offered to invest approximately $500,000 at his direction if he could find the right oil wells in which to deploy the money. Grateful for the opportunity, Rockefeller set out to tour the nearby oil fields. A few days later, he shocked his backers by returning to Cleveland empty-handed, not having spent or invested a dollar of the funds. The opportunity didn’t feel right to him at the time, no matter how excited the rest of the market was—so he refunded the money and stayed away from drilling. It

What can I say? Mathematics is a way not to be wrong, but it isn't a way not to be wrong about everything. (Sorry, no refunds!) Wrongness is like original sin; we are born to it and it remains always with us, and constant vigilance is necessary if we mean to restrict its sphere of influence over our actions. There is real danger that, by strengthening our abilities to analyze some questions mathematically, we acquire a general confidence in our beliefs, which extends unjustifiably to those things we're still wrong about. We become like those pious people who, over time, accumulate a sense of their own virtuousness so powerful as to make them believe the bad things they do are virtuous too. I'll do my best to resist the temptation. But watch me carefully.

– so that’s it. It’s not that the writing is bad, it’s that the readers who think it’s bad are 98-pound weaklings who turn pale and sick at unsettling projects. They are ‘frightened off’, the poor cowardly things, by the ‘difficulty’ of theory – not the ineptitude, mind you, or the slavish imitativeness, or the endless formulaic repetition of repetition – no, the difficulty. So as a result they ‘can dismiss’ theory – not laugh at, not hold up to scorn and derision, or set fire to or thrust firmly into the bin or take back to the shop and loudly demand a refund – no, dismiss. And dismiss ‘as an effort to cover up in an artificially difficult style the fact that it has nothing to say’. Well – yes, that’s right, as a matter of fact. We couldn’t have said it better ourselves.

Although the 1996 welfare reform pushed millions of low-income single moms into the workforce, it did nothing to improve the conditions of low-wage jobs. In fact, if anything, economic theory (and plain old common sense) might support the opposite conclusion: although we can’t know for sure, it stands to reason that by moving millions of unskilled single mothers into the labor force starting in the mid-1990s, welfare reform and the expansion of the EITC and other refundable tax credits may have actually played a role in diminishing the quality of the average low-wage job in America. As unskilled single mothers flooded into the workforce at unprecedented rates, they greatly increased the pool of workers available to low-wage employers. When more people compete for the same jobs, wages usually fall relative to what they would have been otherwise. Employers can also demand more of their employees. What

With the nausea gone, evenings with Marlboro Man slowly began resembling the way they’d been before. We watched movies on the couch together--his head on one end, my head on the other, our legs in a tangled mess of coziness. He’d play with my toes. I’d rub his calves, which were rock hard and tough from day after day on horseback. After the purgatory of the previous weeks, things were officially delicious again. Marlboro Man was delicious again. After a love-drenched honeymoon in Australia, we’d returned home to a bitter reality that had put a screeching halt to what should have been the most romantic days of our lives together. Since my nausea had been so bad that the mere smell of skin made me sick, it had been difficult for me to lie in bed with him some nights--let alone entertain any other thoughts. It had been a cold, frigid autumn in more ways than one. If Marlboro Man hadn’t been so happy about his child developing in my body, I imagined he might have taken me back for a refund. I was so glad that this time had finally passed.

Because that you are going And never coming back And I, however absolute, May overlook your Track - Because that Death is final, However first it be, This instant be suspended Above Mortality - Significance that each has lived The other to detect Discovery not God himself Could now annihilate Eternity, Presumption The instant I perceive That you, who were Existence Yourself forgot to live - The “Life that is” will then have been A thing I never knewAs Paradise fictitious Until the Realm of you- The “Life that is to be,” to me, A Residence too plain Unless m my Redeemer’s Face I recognize your own - Of Immortality who doubts He may exchange with me Curtailed by your obscuring Face Of everything but He - Of Heaven and Hell I also yield The Right to reprehend To whoso would commute this Face For his less priceless Friend. If “God is Love” as he admits We think that he must be Because he is a “jealous God” He tells us certainly If “All is possible widi” him As he besides concedes He will refund us finally Our confiscated Gods -

Because that you are going 1260 Because that you are going And never coming back And I, however absolute, May overlook your Track— Because that Death is final, However first it be, This instant be suspended Above Mortality— Significance that each has lived The other to detect Discovery not God himself Could now annihilate Eternity, Presumption The instant I perceive That you, who were Existence Yourself forgot to live— The “Life that is” will then have been A thing I never knew— As Paradise fictitious Until the Realm of you— The “Life that is to be,” to me, A Residence too plain Unless in my Redeemer’s Face I recognize your own— Of Immortality who doubts He may exchange with me Curtailed by your obscuring Face Of everything but He— Of Heaven and Hell I also yield The Right to reprehend To whoso would commute this Face For his less priceless Friend. If “God is Love” as he admits We think that me must be Because he is a “jealous God” He tells us certainly If “All is possible with” him As he besides concedes He will refund us finally Our confiscated Gods—

I can’t resist free coffee, like when I was at that funeral chapel. I wasn’t really at the chapel, just walking by. The door was open, and so was the casket. People crying. Bunch of folding chairs. Guess it was a viewing. Then I see the big silver coffee urn in back. Next thing I know: ‘What the hell are you doing?’ I say: ‘Drinking free coffee.’ ‘Did you know the deceased?’ ‘Not remotely.’ ‘I want you to leave.’ ‘Right after I get a refill.’ ‘No! Get the fuck out now!’ I said, ‘Have some respect: There’s an old dead guy up there.’ ‘That’s my mother!’ ‘Then you have a refund coming. They did a messed-up job. Of course I didn’t know what she looked like before, so maybe it’s a great job.’ ‘Why you—!’ Then all these guys attacked me. Well, tried to, but they didn’t anticipate my triple-threat martial-arts weapons training. I can handle a folding chair like nunchakus. Except I lost my grip and the thing went flying. I tried to explain that the old woman was already dead so it didn’t matter that the Samsonite hit her in the coffin. Things like that always seem to happen when I drink coffee. It’s weird.

The right Brand Promise isn’t always obvious. Naomi Simson — founder of one of the fastest-growing companies in Australia, RedBalloon — was sure she knew what to promise customers who want to give experiences such as hot air balloon rides as gifts, rather than flowers and chocolates. Her promises included an easy-to-use website for choosing one of over 2,000 experiences; recognizable packaging and branding (think Tiffany blue, only in red); and onsite support. It wasn’t until a friend and client mentioned that she was using the website as a source of ideas — but buying the experiences directly from the vendors — that Simson had an “Aha!” moment. She realized that other customers might be doing the same thing, assuming that RedBalloon must be marking up the price of the experiences to cover the costs of the website, packaging, and onsite support. To grow the business, she promised customers they would pay no more for the experiences they bought through RedBalloon than for those purchased directly from the suppliers; otherwise, customers would get 100% of their fee refunded. The company calls this promise, which is technically a pricing guarantee, a “100% Pleasure Guarantee,” to fit its brand.

By seeing what triggers procrastination, and then making a plan to flip those triggers, doing your taxes becomes attractive. If I found myself putting off doing my taxes, I might sit down and make a plan to changes those triggers. For example, if the trigger is: • Boring: I go to my favorite café for an afternoon on Saturday to do my taxes over a fancy drink while doing some people watching. • Frustrating: I bring a book to the same café, and set a timer on my phone to limit myself to working on my taxes for thirty minutes—and only work for longer if I’m on a roll and feel like going on. • Difficult: I research the tax process to see what steps I need to follow, and what paperwork I need to gather. And I visit the café during my Biological Prime Time, when I’ll naturally have more energy. • Unstructured or Ambiguous: I make a detailed plan from my research that has the very next steps I need to take to do them. • Lacking in Personal Meaning: If I expect to get a refund, think about how much money I will get back, and make a list of the meaningful things I’ll spend that money on. • Lacking in Intrinsic Rewards: For every fifteen minutes I spend on my taxes, I set aside $2.50 to treat myself or reward myself in some meaningful way for reaching milestones.

I wanted to tell Donna that it wasn’t her business what that family bought or ate or wore and that I hated when cashiers at the supermarket said, “On your EBT?” loud enough for people in line behind me to hear. I wanted to tell her that undocumented people couldn’t receive food benefits or tax refunds, even though they paid taxes. They couldn’t receive any government benefits at all. Those were available only for people who were born here or who had obtained the documents to stay. So those children, whose parents had risked so much to give them a good life, were citizens who deserved every bit as much government help as my daughter did. I knew this because I’d sat beside them in countless government offices. I overheard their conversations with caseworkers sitting behind glass, failing to communicate through a language barrier. But these attitudes that immigrants came here to steal our resources were spreading, and the stigmas resembled those facing anyone who relied on government assistance to survive. Anyone who used food stamps didn’t work hard enough or made bad decisions to put them in that lower-class place. It was like people thought it was on purpose and that we cheated the system, stealing the money they paid toward taxes to rob the government of funds. More than ever, it seemed, taxpayers—including my client—thought their money subsidized food for lazy poor people.

QuickBooks Tech Support +1-877-788-4840 QuickBooks is designed and developed by intuit. QuickBooks is a good customer service provider software. If you are a customer of QuickBooks and you want credit from QuickBooks then you can easily get your credit from QuickBooks. It is an online process. To complete this process firstly go to QuickBooks Software where you installed that software. But this facility provides only those customers who are the permanent or valuable customers of QuickBooks. Before doing this you need to know the difference between refund and credit. Choose the right option which you want to use QuickBooks Accounting Software. Refund is the process when the amount is returned to the customer account. But this refund has many terms and conditions. If your request is really legal or genuine. If these conditions are fulfilled then QuickBooks refunds you. But in a credit case when you want to reduce the amount from your actual amount. Terms and conditions also apply in this case. If you want more information regarding QuickBooks credit related. You can contact our highly proficient QuickBooks Help Professional. They give you a satisfied resolution. Our QuickBooks Helpline number is+1-877-788-4840. You can choose unlimited chat for one week trial membership, you can cancel this chat process any time. Here, we are discussing different QuickBooks Support tools that perform the different functionality i.e. working of each tool is different or separate from one another. These tools are provided to resolve certain types of common problems that are needed to be encountered.

Starting a little over a decade ago, Target began building a vast data warehouse that assigned every shopper an identification code—known internally as the “Guest ID number”—that kept tabs on how each person shopped. When a customer used a Target-issued credit card, handed over a frequent-buyer tag at the register, redeemed a coupon that was mailed to their house, filled out a survey, mailed in a refund, phoned the customer help line, opened an email from Target, visited Target.com, or purchased anything online, the company’s computers took note. A record of each purchase was linked to that shopper’s Guest ID number along with information on everything else they’d ever bought. Also linked to that Guest ID number was demographic information that Target collected or purchased from other firms, including the shopper’s age, whether they were married and had kids, which part of town they lived in, how long it took them to drive to the store, an estimate of how much money they earned, if they’d moved recently, which websites they visited, the credit cards they carried in their wallet, and their home and mobile phone numbers. Target can purchase data that indicates a shopper’s ethnicity, their job history, what magazines they read, if they have ever declared bankruptcy, the year they bought (or lost) their house, where they went to college or graduate school, and whether they prefer certain brands of coffee, toilet paper, cereal, or applesauce. There are data peddlers such as InfiniGraph that “listen” to shoppers’ online conversations on message boards and Internet forums, and track which products people mention favorably. A firm named Rapleaf sells information on shoppers’ political leanings, reading habits, charitable giving, the number of cars they own, and whether they prefer religious news or deals on cigarettes. Other companies analyze photos that consumers post online, cataloging if they are obese or skinny, short or tall, hairy or bald, and what kinds of products they might want to buy as a result.

No Big Deal or the End of the World? Here’s something that should be obvious: People don’t like to have their grievances downplayed or dismissed. When that happens, even the smallest irritation can turn into an obsessive crusade. Imagine you’re staying at a hotel, and the air-conditioning isn’t working right. You call the front desk to mention it, and they say, oh yeah, they know about that, and someone is going to come fix that next week (after you’ve left). In the meantime, could you just open a window (down to that noisy, busy street)? Not a word of apology, no tone of contrition. Now what was a mild annoyance—that it’s 74F degrees when you like to sleep at 69F—is suddenly the end of the world! You swell with righteous fury, swear you’ll write a letter to management, and savage the hotel in your online review. Jean-Louis Gassée, who used to run Apple France, describes this situation as the choice between two tokens. When you deal with people who have trouble, you can either choose to take the token that says “It’s no big deal” or the token that says “It’s the end of the world.” Whichever token you pick, they’ll take the other. The hotel staff in the example above clearly took the “It’s no big deal” token and as a result forced you to take the “It’s the end of the world” token. But they could just as well have made the opposite choice. Imagine the staff answering something like this: “We’re so sorry. That’s clearly unacceptable! I can completely understand how it must be almost impossible to sleep when it’s so hot in your room. If I can’t fix this problem for you tonight, would you like me to refund your stay and help you find a different hotel room nearby? In any case, while we’re figuring out the solution, allow me to send up a bottle of ice water and some ice cream. We’re terribly sorry for this ordeal and we’ll do everything to make it right.” With an answer like that, you’re almost forced to pick the “It’s no big deal” token. Yeah, sure, some water and ice cream would be great! Everyone wants to be heard and respected. It usually doesn’t cost much to do, either. And it doesn’t really matter all that much whether you ultimately think you’re right and they’re wrong. Arguing with heated feelings will just increase the burn. Keep that in mind the next time you take a token. Which one are you leaving for the customer?

I was not above filching empty candy bar wrappers from trash bins at the park or picking up the back cards of batteries from store parking lots. My children all sported Hershey shirts but ate very few of the required candy bars themselves to get them. Trips to the pool were the most rewarding, where candy was sold at the concession stand and the trash receptacles were overflowing with wrappers. On neighborhood trash day, the children and I walked up and down the alleys, where we confiscated extra Pampers points to send in for savings bonds and toys. Even the tennis shoes my children wore on these jaunts were obtained free from the Huggies diaper company.

I started taking walks with my children on trash day just to collect the extra proofs of purchase. We’d roam the alleys together, stopping at each diaper box. I learned to swiftly tear the proof of purchase off in a stealth maneuver I’d refined with practice: pushing the stroller up close to the box, bending down as if tying my shoe, and ripping off the qualifier, all in less than thirty seconds.

Perhaps one of the more creative promotions of all time was in 1969, when a marketer with the Procter & Gamble Company came up with the idea of giving away goldfish with each purchase of a king-size box of Spic and Span.

Compulsive? I lived and breathed refunding, and my children benefited with their wide variety of toys, balls, and T-shirts I obtained through my hobby. It was all a big game, and one that I played well. And I was not alone. While there was no estimate available on the number of people who were involved in refunding, Carol Backs, publisher of Money Maker magazine in the late 1980s and chairman of a trade association of refund magazine publishers, claimed that refund magazines were selling eight hundred thousand to one million subscriptions.

From this day forward, make a promise to yourself that whenever you receive any money, whether it’s your salary for work, a refund or discount, or something that someone gives you that costs money, you will be truly grateful for it. Each of these

The Amazon version of the Andon Cord started with a conversation about a customer care problem during a weekly business review. The issue centered on the way mistakes made by one set of employees—those working in the retail group—were creating headaches for a different set—those in the customer care department. “When the people in the retail group don’t provide the right data for the customer, or enter a product description that’s inaccurate,” the head of customer care explained, “the customer is disappointed with the purchase. And that means they call customer care, which lands us with the hassle of refunding the product.

Being single can be confusing. On the one hand you sometimes yearn for the simple comfort of companionship; someone to discuss your day with, someone with whom you can celebrate a raise or tax refund, someone who’ll commiserate when you’re down with a cold. On the other hand, once you get used to being alone (in other words, having everything your way), you have to wonder why you’d ever take on the aggravation of a relationship. Other human beings have all these hotly held opinions, habits, and mannerisms, not to mention mood disorders, food preferences, passions, hobbies, allergies, emotional fixations and attitudes that in no way coincide with the correct ones, namely yours.

There are no refunds and no exchanges with love. It comes with flaws and imperfections. It’s raw, unfiltered, and sometimes it isn’t easy. But I’ve found the best things in this life are the ones I’ve had to work hardest for. Especially Sunny.

The turmoil couldn’t be refunded. The memories couldn’t be reupholstered.

Could you say this about yourself right now, that you have immense and intrinsic value, at your current weight and income level, while waiting to hear if you got the job or didn’t, or sold your book or didn’t? This idea that I had all the value I’d ever need was concealed from me my whole life. I want a refund. In this world of suffering and grace, of brokenness and sky, of bad skin and buckteeth and one another, I cannot add to the value of myself.

Falco’s eyes flickered when he saw Cristian. “This one is actually with me,” he said, slipping an arm around Cass’s waist. “Then you might want to keep a closer eye on her.” Cristian nodded curtly at Falco and turned back toward the salon. Looking back over his shoulder, Falco added, “They tell me she’s got special skills.” He let his hand slide even lower, onto one of Cass’s slender hips, as he directed her back out into the night. Cass pulled away from Falco the second the door shut and they were out of the man’s line of vision. “Special skills?” Her voice burned with acid. Falco grinned. “You mean you don’t?” He leaned in close and snaked both his arms around her waist. “I’m going to require a refund then.” His breath was hot against her neck. Cass couldn’t help it. She saw the room with the candles again, her naked body intertwined with Falco’s, the two of them so close together they were practically wearing the same skin. Her whole body went rigid at the thought. “Oh come on,” Falco whispered in her ear. “I was joking. Acting the part.” Cass softened a little bit but still pulled back from his embrace. She couldn’t think of him that way when she was angry. She shouldn’t think of him that way at all. She took a deep breath and tried to regain control of her thoughts. “And acting the part requires you to put your hands all over me? Or is that just an extra benefit?” She didn’t know if she was more angry at Falco for treating her like a common prostitute or for leaving her alone in that house full of brutes. Falco rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cassandra. I prefer my women a little less…repressed.” Without thinking, Cass reached out and slapped him. Her palm connected with the side of Falco’s face with a satisfying smack. She withdrew her hand immediately, horrified at what she’d done. To her surprise, Falco started laughing. “That’s more like it,” he said, his blue eyes lighting up the night. He rubbed the side of his face. “I think that’s going to leave a mark.” “I--I’m sorry,” Cass said. A red blotch began to form across Falco’s cheekbone. “Don’t be. I’m sure I deserved it. If not now, then at sometime in the past.” He winked. “Or the future.

Six big companies refused to refund me for a bad service. I humiliated them, I threaten them, I kept their product, and I made them pay for every cent at the end. My girlfriend asked me for some time off and challenged me. I dumped her without further discussion. My computer demanded a break. And so I broke it. I have some of its letters being shipped from across the world while I type without them, for seventeen hours a day, from Monday to Sunday. And yet, this world still seriously underestimates the one that was born in the darkness and shaped by the fire. I can eat the whole planet in one single bite if I want.

Women,” he snorted. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t return ’em for a full refund.

Child-care tax credits for all families. Federal child-care tax credits are available to all families. The principal tax credit is the Child and Dependent Care Tax Credit. But credits can be claimed only if an individual owes taxes, and poor Americans generally do not. Only if a tax benefit is refundable—meaning it can be paid out to a recipient with or without a tax payment to the Internal Revenue Service (IRS)—do the poor reap any gain. The child-care tax credit is nonrefundable, so more than 60 percent of child-care tax credits go to the richest 40 percent of families.49

In 2013, Barack Obama’s presidential campaign was fined $375,000 by the Federal Election Commission for violating federal disclosure laws. An FEC audit of the 2008 records of Obama for America found the group failed to disclose millions of dollars in contributions and delayed refunding millions more in excess contributions.8 Excess contributions—sound familiar? But the FEC, you see, is a bipartisan group with an equal number of Democratic and Republican commissioners. As a consequence of both parties having a say, FEC decisions tend to be more balanced. My case, you may remember, was deliberately not referred to the FEC, as such cases typically are. Rather, the U.S. attorney for the Southern District of New York decided to go ahead and prosecute it. Unlike Obama, I did not benefit from a scheme involving millions of dollars in excess contributions; rather, I paid $20,000 in excess of the campaign finance limit. Yet I ended up in a confinement center, and Obama, for vastly more serious offenses, paid a token fine.

How much does this thing cost?” Travis says, walking closer to it. Honestly, Travis is always like this. A negative nelly is what my mother would call him. He always has to ask the questions that nobody wants to answer because it ruins all the fun. “Well, that’s a hard question. Are you talking about the rental price or the price of all the smiles on everyone’s faces as they are having the time of their lives?” “The rental price.” “Well, here’s the thing−” I start, but he holds his hand up and looks to Tina. “$1599.00 plus deposit and taxes,” she says. “WHAT?” Travis exclaims. “No way! Forget it. This is a veto.” “You can’t use a veto for this!” I argue. “Well, I just did,” he says, shrugging. I can see he has already put the idea out of his mind, which is completely ridiculous. I mean, I know it is pretty expensive, but then I think of all the fun memories everyone will make together− and can you really put a price on that? “Travis, you’re not seeing the bigger picture here!” I argue. “We said a small party. A couple of friends, some food and wine. This,” he says, pointing to the obstacle course, “is not small.” “Who wants small for a thirtieth birthday party? I mean, you only turn thirty once−” From the look on Travis’ face I decide to switch tactics. “What about if we charge people?” “You’re crazy,” he says. “Not our guests, but the neighbours and stuff. Kind of like a carnival.” Actually, I just thought of that idea right here and now, but it’s not a bad one. Plus, it might be easier to have the neighbours agree to have it on the street if I let them join in the fun. “Or we could just stick to the regular plan,” Travis says and turns to Tina. “I’m sorry we wasted your time.” I already know the next part of this conversation is not going to go well. “I kind of already put the deposit down,” I say, trying to get an imaginary piece of dirt off my sweater. No one says anything and I am starting to feel pretty sorry for Tina because she looks beyond uncomfortable with the conversation. “What kind of deposit?” Travis says in a low tone. “The non-refundable kind,” I say, biting my lip. “How much was the deposit?” he asks, looking from me to Tina. Tina’s eyes are wide and she looks to me desperately, asking me to rescue her from this awkwardness. Honestly, if anyone needs a life jacket right now− it’s me. “Nimfy perfin,” I mumble. “What?” “Ninety percent,” I say, meeting his eyes. “The remaining ten percent is due on delivery.” “You really are crazy,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you are getting all worked up about,” I say. “I’m paying for it!” “Etty, this… thing… is your rent for the month!” “I’ll take extra shifts,” I say, shrugging. “I wanted to make sure Scott’s day was really special.” “It’s going to be special because he’s with his friends and family. You don’t need to do these things.” “Yes, I do!” I say. “It’s how I show people that I care about them.” “Write them a nice card,” Travis says slowly. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. You’re always the storm cloud that rains on my parade!” “No, I’m the voice of reason in a land of eternal sunshine and daisies,” he says, and turns to Tina. “Is there any way we can get her deposit back?” Tina is now fidgeting with her skirt. “No, I’m sorry, but−” “Don’t worry Tina, I don’t want my deposit back. What I want is my brother to have the best day ever with his friends and family on a hundred foot inflatable obstacle course,” I narrow my eyes at Travis while lifting my purse further up my shoulder. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go and start my first of twenty overtime shifts to pay for the best day of all of our lives.

It was not their first choice, and they did not know if they would ever feel at home there, but they could afford, finally, a small house as well as a car. They had found their own happiness, weighted by resignation: that they were who they were, that they could never truly know the thoughts of another person, that their love was bruised by the carelessness of their own parents (his mother, her father); that they would wander the world in their dreams with ghostly, intangible lovers, that their children would move from adoration of them to fury, that they and their parents would die in different cities, that they would never accomplish anything that would leave any lasting mark on the world. They had longed for this, from the first lonely moment of their childhoods when they realized they could not marry their fathers or mothers, through the burning romanticism of their teens, to the bustling search of their twenties, and there was the faint regret that this tumult and exhaustion was what they had longed for too, and soon it would be gone.