I'm late posting today. I have been on the phone with an insurance company for three hours. Waiting, listening to bad music. Finally getting someone on the phone who has not been trained and cannot help me.
I try to pay my bill online. Oops! It won't take my username.
Then I call insurance company and instead of customer service, I call online help. I tell them my problem. "Oh, you have to use all caps."
"Well, if you have to use all caps, why doesn't it say this somewhere on the policy or online?"
"Don't know, ma'am. Just always been caps."
I then tell her that if you call customer service and wait and listen to bad music till you want to scream, they should have someone there that has been trained to do what it says on your documentation they are supposed to help you with.
"Well, not everyone has been trained fully."
I want very badly to ask her if she's one of them, but I refrain. I have not gone to the bathroom in hours and the dogs want out and are hungry, and I am hungry, and my patience is quickly waning.
Before I forget in this rant of mine, look what I got a photo of the other day. I saw this huge bird go overhead, and grabbed my camera. It landed in a tree two doors down. It was a speck. I took about five photos of the speck with my zoom lens.
I go inside and hurriedly download the photos to see if my specks are of any worth and are clear.
I don't have a lot of knowledge of big birds, but am assuming this is a hawk of some kind. Does anyone know more? Big boy/girl, isn't it? Just look at those eyes. They don't look "bird like."
Back to my rant. I do recall a time when you picked up the phone and pecked out a number and a person actually answered. We did not know how fortunate we were! Those days are gone.
You must listen closely and answer with the right digits and remember to hit # each time, or you will have to dial again and listen to ugly music. (Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Or was it $100?)
My help for my online problem is a girl I can barely understand. I tell her a good amount of times that I can't hear her. But it is not just that. I can't understand her either. I say, "you have an accent."
She says: "Yes, I am from Columbia."
That is fine. I will listen closer. Then I can't hear her. I repeatedly ask her why it is that after a few minutes her voice gets more distant. Oh, it is her head phone.
I look at the clock and realize I have done little today. I have not posted on any of my blogs. All I've done is answer emails, which I can do during bad music with the phone held to my ear with my shoulder.
Three hours later and I am somewhat satisfied that things are okay and my account is adequately paid up.
I remember when I was young I thought old people did not handle stressful situations well, aside from the fact that they couldn't hear either. I use to think of them as "cranky."
Well, I realize, I am somewhat old now and I am most definitely cranky when it comes to long phone calls where little is accomplished. And my precious morning hours, when I am at the top of my game, are gone.
One thing that really winds my watch too tight is when hours pass (did I say I am a morning person?) and my most useful hours have vanished right before my eyes.
Come afternoon, which would be starting about now, I start to unravel a bit. My memory is not as good. My brain goes on a siesta whether I want it to or not.
It is the time when words elude me. It is like trying to catch a bubble word with a net. I almost catch the word and process it through my brain and then transfer it to computer, but then it's gone like a whisper. And that sort of makes me cranky too.
I'm on a roll, and only occasionally at a loss for words, so I might as well get a little more out of my system. I also hate that companies think every single person on this earth has a cell phone.
How many times am I doing something and it asks for a mobile number? I don't have one. But there is no place to put that information down. They wish to text me the answer. I DON'T HAVE A CELL PHONE.
I hate cell phones.
I hate that they are at everyone's ear or they are looking down at them as they walk along just before they walk right into you. Oops. And they are so immersed in whatever is on their little screen that they scarcely take the time to look up. Uh-oh, reading and talking must be from two different places in the brain because they cannot absorb what's on the screen and say, "Oh, I'm so sorry."
I guess everyone has a cell phone but me. I threw mine in the trash, when, after an entire year had passed while paying for it, I still could not tell anyone the phone number because I had never memorized it.
In school as a child, memorizing was not my forte. Thus I could not participate in school plays. Now put me in front of a podium and ask me to spell a word and I was great. Now we have spell check.
This problem with not memorizing should have helped me escape marriage three times. I recall each time (and I never had a wedding; just a few moments in front of a judge) being scared to death I would not be able to recall the words he/she was speaking, and repeat them for my marriage vows to be lawful.
That should have been a sign to me that if I could barely remember how to say the vows, then perhaps I was not marriage material.
One thing I'll say about "getting older." You become much more wise. You have sage wisdom that only comes with having been planted on this earth for a certain amount of time.
When I was young, I marched into calamity at a forceful speed, and did not have the sense to think ahead to what might happen next.
So now, three divorces later, I have a lot more wisdom than I had when first I wed, which was when I was 20 years old. But that wisdom came too late to prevent the futile years of trying to be a wife when clearly I was not very good at it. Or maybe I just picked the wrong men...
Well, I suppose in my hungered state I have rattled and prattled off long enough. When I am this hungry I doubt I make any sense anyway. And my wisdom tells me I must eat lunch.
I do want to let you know that thankfully I awoke this morning without The Black List song (Gordon Lightfoot's Sundown) in my head. But somehow it has managed to crawl back into my head and repeat itself ad infinitum.
In a room where ya do what ya don't confess