(Not You, THEM)
Mood: foul. You may want to just skip this one today.
After running all over town in the ghastly heat on Friday to avoid having the cable shut off, I made my partial payment, faxed the receipt into the company whose name rhymes with socks, was told by a very nice man there that he’d received confirmation of payment, and I could now rest easy as there’d be no interruption of service.
I’m pretty sure the laughter started right after I hung up.
In the middle of 1) a show I was watching and prior to several others I had planned to watch, and 2) while trying to upload images to the lab for printing, the cable went out.
A call to them yielded little more than “oh, looks like it was an accounting error. They’ll be able to turn it back on for you…in the morning.” They knew what the problem was and could have turned it on last night, but apparently there’s only one little teeny switch in one teeny little office somewhere that gets to turn it back on.
I gave up trying to prove to them that their charges were wrong because they kept coming up with all sorts of ways to disconnect me and transfer me to someone else who didn’t care and blah blah blah. I was about to give up on the digital portion completely, but it turns out that it’d cost me two dollars more to have regular cable as opposed to the what they were able to “reduce” my current service costs to using all sorts of “discounts”. Excuse me, but what the fuck? I mean, if you have all these discounts you can apply, why the hell don’t you? Oh, that’s right. It’s because you’re the only game in this part of town.
It’s back on, but only after I spent 75 minutes on hold and being shuffled around to three different departments. Oh, and that’s not even the best part. I get to go through all that again next weekend when I make the balance of the payment.
Oh, no. That’s not quite right. To make matters even worse, I have NOT sold my dining room table yet, which means I’ll probably not be able to pay my cable bill next week anyway, so all this kvetching and running around and wheeling and dealing was for naught.
And speaking of games, Zazzle, you’re getting on my nerves. Supposedly they “started” paying me for products sold back on August 7th. In the meantime, the money’s just been sitting there. Not going anywhere. Not doing anything. I was going to use that to pay for my Flickr renewal since I have client proof galleries on there. No problem, right? Except that here we are almost a MONTH later and the payment’s still “pending”. I called them to ask what the problem was. I used the number in the email they sent me during the hours they said and I was told that particular department doesn’t get in until later this afternoon. And even if they do get to my question this afternoon, there’s no guarantee that payment will go through today. Apparently sending a payment is a very complex operation and requires people who work special hours and use mysterious methods to get the money from one account to another. And they’re even more special because it takes them about a year to do it. Are you fucking kidding me? You are, aren’t you?
And let us not forget the attorney’s office for 1) originally telling me they had my mileage form and then 2) last week telling me it’s not there. I have to reconstruct the entire thing and I am having the devil of a time doing so because the one piece of paper I need to decipher the facility codes is missing and the big bad healthcare system I’m dealing with won’t tell me what I need to know without me driving over there.
Do I even want to bother dealing with Linkworth today?
Shall I discuss the ex who DOESN’T pay child support or anything but has a brand new SUV with GPS and satellite radio?
Or how about the fact that my son is really pissed at me? Not because of something I’ve done, but because of something I’m going to do. And because, well, even though he was cool with it before, he’s not now and it’s just hitting him.
Shhh. No. I’m not going to. Instead, I’m going to sit in the corner and start banging my head against the wall for the next 72 hours. It’ll hurt less than all this other crap.