Earlier this week I went to the cupboard for some Beef-a-roni, but apparently the kids had already eaten the last can. I really had my heart set on it! I was so angry that I yelled "motherfucker!", stomped out of the kitchen, and kicked the living room phone jack right off the wall. It's one of those things we all do impulsively, and regret immediately. Now my foot was hurt, and I needed this damn phone jack fixed!
I grabbed my cell phone and called the phone company. After going through a shit ton of really annoying robotic menus I was finally put in the queue to wait for a representative. I was still kind of mad about the whole thing to be honest. I decided it would be best to lie and say that the phone just went dead. She told me that I had the "protection plan" on my account, so the work would probably be covered.
The technician's visit was scheduled for the next day with an 8am to 12pm window. That meant I had to take off work that morning, but still, a 4-hour window isn't too bad. Since I had the morning off I decided to hit up the Bob Evans for some biscuits and corned beef hash. I returned home around 9:15 and found a note on the door. It stated that I had missed their tech at 8:15 a.m., which means he probably got there right at 8. Ridiculous!
That's when Phil came home because he'd forgotten to take his lunch that morning. He was needed at the job site, but I told him that first he needed to call the phone company and tell them that their tech left and that I had been waiting since 7am. While talking to the representative, he didn't sound all that convincing. So I yelled, "Tell them that I saw the truck driving off!". This went on for a few more minutes until I got fed up and took the phone from him.
I bitched at the rep for a few minutes, and I claimed that the tech never knocked. The rep said, "Maybe you didn't hear him, or maybe he didn't see the doorbell.". I yelled, "I don't have a doorbell, smart ass!". Then the rep put me on hold. He came back a few minutes later to tell me that he had spoken with the supervisor and that my technician would add me on as his last job of the day.
Now I had an afternoon to kill, so I drove to O'Charley's and drank a bunch of beers. I got home by around 4:45pm, and the tech was just pulling up. I said, "It's about time!". He said, "For your information I was here at 8:15 this morning for your appointment. Now I'll be stuck here when I should be driving my son to his basketball game." I told him that I don't care about all that and brought him inside.
He inspected the damage and advised me that there would be a charge to fix it, because accidental damage wasn't covered under the plan. I got all up in his face, poking him in his chest and yelling about how I refused to pay and how ridiculous this whole thing was. He quietly walked out, got in his van, and began to drive off. I ran out after him, and threw the broken phone jack at the back of his van. It missed and landed in the street. This whole experience just goes to show that good customer service is dead!
Wednesday, October 21
Friday, October 16
The prodigal daughter!
Darla has finally returned! She's been gone since April, when she ran away from home. Apparently she got her fill of the "real world", and has come crawling back for some sense of normalcy. Even though she's a woman of sixteen now, I was still a bit worried for her this whole time. After hearing about all that she's been through I can't say that I blame her!
Apparently she left town with some wolf enthusiast who drives a 12-year-old Geo Metro. He had promised to take her to Humbolt County, California, but the car broke down somewhere in the Mid-West. They went for help, but ended up getting stranded with a commune of paranoid, drug addicted young hippies. They let Darla's friend go, but made her stay because they thought her pregnancy was suspicious.
While living as their captive, Darla was still able to sneak to a phone every now and then. Unfortunately I was ignoring her voicemails. She was scared and feeling sick from all the stress and homemade soy milk they were giving her, but none of them would let her leave "the farm" to visit a doctor. She escaped five months later by hitch hiking from the edge of the woods.
She immediately checked into a Catholic hospital where they discovered that she had miscarried three months earlier. They were kind enough to remove the calcified remains of the fetus despite Darla's lack of medical insurance. She signed a release form, which is too bad, because the procedure has rendered her sterile. I told her she should still sue those bastards! She'd be set for life!
From there she had to take whatever charity should could find until she finally made it home. But now what's she going to do? She's a dropout with no marketable skills and no baby to claim for welfare, or to use to get checks from a man. I'm trying to convince her to be practical about this, but she's reluctant to take my advice. All I'm saying is that she'll make a decent regular income if she'd consider getting all her teeth pulled. Of course little miss "woman of the world" thinks I'm wrong about that too.
I can't help but feel somewhat responsible for all this. I mean, I didn't stop her from leaving, and I never tried to find her after she left. I also ignored ten letters and at least twenty voicemails over the course of the last several months. And on some of those messages she was downright begging me to help her get home. But I knew deep down that she wouldn't have learned her lesson until she found her way home alone, the hard way.
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Apparently she left town with some wolf enthusiast who drives a 12-year-old Geo Metro. He had promised to take her to Humbolt County, California, but the car broke down somewhere in the Mid-West. They went for help, but ended up getting stranded with a commune of paranoid, drug addicted young hippies. They let Darla's friend go, but made her stay because they thought her pregnancy was suspicious.
While living as their captive, Darla was still able to sneak to a phone every now and then. Unfortunately I was ignoring her voicemails. She was scared and feeling sick from all the stress and homemade soy milk they were giving her, but none of them would let her leave "the farm" to visit a doctor. She escaped five months later by hitch hiking from the edge of the woods.
She immediately checked into a Catholic hospital where they discovered that she had miscarried three months earlier. They were kind enough to remove the calcified remains of the fetus despite Darla's lack of medical insurance. She signed a release form, which is too bad, because the procedure has rendered her sterile. I told her she should still sue those bastards! She'd be set for life!
From there she had to take whatever charity should could find until she finally made it home. But now what's she going to do? She's a dropout with no marketable skills and no baby to claim for welfare, or to use to get checks from a man. I'm trying to convince her to be practical about this, but she's reluctant to take my advice. All I'm saying is that she'll make a decent regular income if she'd consider getting all her teeth pulled. Of course little miss "woman of the world" thinks I'm wrong about that too.
I can't help but feel somewhat responsible for all this. I mean, I didn't stop her from leaving, and I never tried to find her after she left. I also ignored ten letters and at least twenty voicemails over the course of the last several months. And on some of those messages she was downright begging me to help her get home. But I knew deep down that she wouldn't have learned her lesson until she found her way home alone, the hard way.
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Friday, October 9
Embarrassing the kids!
My damn kids love to accuse me of embarrassing them. It's either my clothes, the way I discipline them in public, or the way I act in front of other parents at school events. I know I do it, but what can I do? Moms are never "cool". They weren't cool even when I was a kid! It's not that I don't try! But nothing I do ever good enough for them, so why do I bother? Pure optimism, I guess.
Back when Darla was just in second grade she started peeing the bed again. Morning after morning I had to begin my day by throwing her sheets in the wash. Enough was enough! I told her that if she wet the bed again I was going to hang her pee-soaked underwear outside for all the kids on the bus to see. The next day I did just that. Needless to say, she stopped wetting after that. I'm not sure if she ever forgave me, but it worked! So what's the harm?
My 9 year old, Brandon, is an even bigger bitch about the way I treat him in front of his friends. I tried to be cool at the JV football game by handing loose cigarettes out to all his little buddies, but apparently they all thought that was weird. Then I wore a slutty top to the "parents n' kids field day", but all the children laughed at my flopping breasts, which made Brandon cry. Then he got mad at the fair because I washed his face off by licking it clean. Well how else does he expect me to remove all that cotton candy residue?
Even little Jailen is getting in on this foolishness. She thinks her three-year-old ass is too big for that stroller. And yeah, she is. She's a little porker to be quite honest. But I don't strap her into the stroller for my benefit. It's so she doesn't run around and get lost! The last time I let her walk on her own she ended up following the wrong mother's ass for several minutes before looking up, realizing it wasn't me, and screaming at the poor women until security had to be called to locate me. Of course I was trying on clothes, so I couldn't even get up there for another fifteen minutes!
.
Back when Darla was just in second grade she started peeing the bed again. Morning after morning I had to begin my day by throwing her sheets in the wash. Enough was enough! I told her that if she wet the bed again I was going to hang her pee-soaked underwear outside for all the kids on the bus to see. The next day I did just that. Needless to say, she stopped wetting after that. I'm not sure if she ever forgave me, but it worked! So what's the harm?
My 9 year old, Brandon, is an even bigger bitch about the way I treat him in front of his friends. I tried to be cool at the JV football game by handing loose cigarettes out to all his little buddies, but apparently they all thought that was weird. Then I wore a slutty top to the "parents n' kids field day", but all the children laughed at my flopping breasts, which made Brandon cry. Then he got mad at the fair because I washed his face off by licking it clean. Well how else does he expect me to remove all that cotton candy residue?
Even little Jailen is getting in on this foolishness. She thinks her three-year-old ass is too big for that stroller. And yeah, she is. She's a little porker to be quite honest. But I don't strap her into the stroller for my benefit. It's so she doesn't run around and get lost! The last time I let her walk on her own she ended up following the wrong mother's ass for several minutes before looking up, realizing it wasn't me, and screaming at the poor women until security had to be called to locate me. Of course I was trying on clothes, so I couldn't even get up there for another fifteen minutes!
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