Caterwauling

If you’re in my blind spot and you see I am slowly backing out of a spot, then stop. In fact, you mastered that part, but don’t just stop, but back up if you can. Because if I don’t see you (at a perpendicular intersection), something bad may happen (like all that body damage). And kindly don’t be angry with me because I don’t have eyes in the back of my f’ing head — I didn’t want to have a collision on top of everything else right now. I swear, I looked both ways. I am a very good driver. But it seems everyone wants to drive around you instead of stopping for you.

And that’s all I have to say on that matter today, other than that my grandmother used to say that things get worse before they get better. That means it’s time for “better” to start … right now!!!

I pay you lots of money. Money I don’t have. Money that should go toward feeding the cats or maybe even me one of these days. So when I call your tech support, please humor me and be helpful.

First, I sit through menu after menu. But you do not give me numbered options so that I can identify my problem. Oh, no. Your FemBot asks me insipid questions. I try to speak clearly, but the longer I am lost in the system, the more irritated my voice becomes. She then gives me an option of two items from which to choose. Neither is my problem — I do not have a problem placing a call or accessing the Internet because, as I tried to tell you earlier, THE PHONE WENT DEAD. I am just fortunate to have another phone so that I can call you to tell you that!

Oh, but it gets better. After I demand from your automaton to speak with a live representative, you give me one that is less helpful than the computer voice. Not only are we not understanding each other, but he transfers me to the collections department. I know, I’m not good about paying on time these days (hence the shut-off last month. Thanks and Merry Christmas to you, too!). But my billing cycle only ended on Friday — the girl in the collections department was as counfounded as I was about the transfer. So she transferred me back to Moron Boy, and perhaps it was a blessing that the call got dropped. Because any call I make gets dropped. Hooray.

Anyway, I fixed the phone myself, thanks for asking. As I sat arguing with FemBot, I broke open the phone, removed its innards and put it back together, and voila! The phone finally turned on again.

Thank you for wasting a half hour of my life. Remind me why I’m supposed to pay you again?