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2005-10-22 @ 12:36 p.m. |
I think somebody must have gotten ahold of the nation's water supply and replaced the fluoridation with retardation in the last month or so. Why? Because I have partaken in some of the most stupidest case scenarios with people recently. Sure, we're all incompetent at some point during the day, like yesterday I did a large fruit tray and cracker and cheese tray for my empowerment group and I was really nervous. I wanted it to be nice and I had even gotten assistance from my friend "C" at the yuppie grocery store, because sadly, I haven't got a clue how to pick out fruit since I don't eat it much. So I fussed and fussed over it, draping the grapes in a pleasing manner, propping the pineapple so it provided contrast and beauty, subconsciously measuring out the exact circumference of the cheese so that it would be symmetrically aligned with the crackers, because I totally knew that anyone with OCD would be doing the same thing. And I didn't want them to say, "oh, its sad how witty thinks she's all about Martha Stewart when her fruit tray actually looks like something that got run over by a tractor trailer". Oh no...I want them to be dazzled...astounded....I wanted them to send it to the Smithsonian Institute as an absolutely perfect example of how a fruit tray should look. I don't know if I accomplished it. Because I went into our room where people were milling around the fruit tray (obviously admiring it) they all instead looked up at me and said..."Do you have any plates to put these on?" heh, heh. Plates. Whadda ya need plates for? ...Oh. But this long line of stupidness actually started about a month ago. I moved, of course, in August and I was not spectacular about contacting everyone so that they could change my address. So as my bills came in, I would do change of addresses on them. Well, this month I kept waiting and waiting for my car insurance bill. The deadline to pay came and went. I told my mom about it. I didn't really want to call the insurance place because I had had a falling out with them last year because of their incompetence and preferred not to speak to them unless absolutely necessary. Come to find out the insurance company had changed my address all right. They had my new street address here in the Village with the name of the last city I had lived in and the old zip code. So, unfortunately, I ended up having to drive way across town to deliver my payment and make sure that they got things right, because obviously that isn't really a requirement in the insurance industry. And then I went to my bank here in the Village about a month ago and changed my address with them. Amazingly, I had already changed the address BEFORE I moved, but did they change it? Nope. My bank statement had gone to my old address and was forwarded. Grrr. So I went to the customer service rep and we sat down to change everything in the computer system and order some new checks. Did she know how much the new basic checks were? No. Umm, isn't that kind of your job? I guess not. I guess its just to look stunning behind her desk. Yeah, thats it. Because when she pulled up my info to change, she saw my mom's bank account. My mom has my name on her account for unknown reasons and I very specifically told the woman, DO NOT CHANGE THAT. IT IS NOT MY BANK ACCOUNT. I HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT. I guess it was my heavy Ecuadorian accent or something, because I soon started getting all these "welcome to your new address" letters from the bank with the change of address. Who's name was on the envelope? My mother. And I also got her bank statement with her checks. I didn't want to tell her because I figured she'd freak out if she knew that I saw her bank account. So when I had a free moment, I went back over to the bank to the same customer service rep and told her she had done exactly the very thing I had asked her NOT to do and could we please change it. I also thought, since they were the stupidheads who were responsible for mix up, that they should stick her bank statement in an envelope and send it back to her. I live all the way across town and didn't really feel like driving a 30 mile round trip to hand deliver something that I didn't want her to know that I had. So she said she would. And I saw the envelope with my mom's address so I was like Fine! After a few days I felt kind of guilty and my mom mentioned not getting her bank statement. I finally told her what happened, but that she should be getting it any second, because by then it had been like 3 days. She was a little put out, but happy that it would be coming TOMORROW. I didn't say tomorrow, I just said it was en route. Tomorrow came and went and then it was the daily bitch session with her. I finally told her I was tired of being blamed for something I wasn't responsible for (go me!) and that maybe she should call the bank herself and talk to the rep from the Planet Stupid and see if she knew what happened. So she did. The rep, rather than just sticking a damn stamp on it and mailing it, had put it in her interoffice mail and it was currently somewhere enroute to Buffalo, so that THEY could put a stamp on it. See how efficient that was? Yay! So my mom still hasn't gotten her statement and I'm still getting yelled at and made to feel guilty even though she knows its not really my fault and my trust in the bank just took a nose dive. But I was saving the best for last. I've had a fairly strenuous week. My car which I just spent a lot of money on, is making a wicked scraping noise on the side where it was repaired, so I guess I'll have to deal with that Monday. So last night when I got home I took a short walk. I haven't even really been able to enjoy the Fall colors, because I've been indoors so much and also the weather has been kind of sucky. I noticed that my Harry Connick Jr. CD from the library was sitting on the table and was probably late, so I scooped it up in my hand, put the CD in the sleeve and walked across the street to the library and dropped it in their book drop. That's allowable, right? This morning I get a call from a woman at the library. She said "We got the CD you checked out, but the CD is missing from the sleeve." I was sort of perplexed and told her that was not possible, because that was the last thing I did....put the CD in the sleeve. I then told her that I only lived across the street and had dropped it in the drop box and that maybe it was still in there. Her: No its not. Me: It should be, I only walked across the street with it, and I am positive its in there. Maybe it fell out. Her: It didn't. You must have it. Me: Nooo. I don't have it. You might want to look in the book drop. It might have slid out. Her: Its not here. You must have it. Me: No. I don't. I got home yesterday about 5:30. Put the CD back in the sleeve and walked across the street and put it in your book drop. Her: I don't think you did. Its missing. We went out this morning and there was only one book in our book drop. Did you put it in the bookdrop by the bank? Me: Umm, no. Did you hear what I just said? I live across the street. I walked over and put it in the drop. Her: Maybe it got lost in one of the library bags we get from the other libraries. Me: Thats not possible, because I put it in your drop off yesterday. Her: Did you put it in the one by the bank? Me: No. I put it in YOUR drop. Your book drop. IN FRONT OF YOUR BUILDING. Her: Is it possible it fell out in your car on the way to the library? Me: I walked there. I live 20 steps from your driveway. Her: Maybe its in one of the bags from the other libraries. Me: Look, I'll get dressed and I'll come over and we can both look in the drop. Her: You know, you'll have to pay for it, because you lost it. Me: I didn't lose it. I returned it yesterday. Her: Well, we'll look, but I think you might still have it maybe in your car. Me: (silence...as my aneurysm is slowly forming) Her: (very snotty) We'll be calling you if we don't find it. (click) So, I guess it was my thick Ecuadorian accent that once again made it nearly impossible for someone in customer service, namely, Marian the frickin' Librarian to grasp the facts.
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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty |
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