Ok, so it’s a bit of a long time coming…but I simply must tell you about some of the craziness that I experienced towards the end of last week.
Experience #1: Drunk Man in the Journal
So, yeah, the river IS rising. But why, oh why, must crazy, drunk, river men come in the Journal? I will have to say that it was entertaining…for a few minutes. Anyways, he came in complaining about his river house, and the possible flooding. (Very slurry, I might add). Then, he starts talking about how he was going to burn it to the ground last week, but now because of the flooding…he couldn’t even do that. (Odd.) He starts in about how he doesn’t have flood insurance blah, blah, blah. Then, somehow God comes into the picture. He starts talking about how he’s torn between God and his wife. I’m still not sure about how the God/his wife thing connected to the river flooding…but apparently it made sense to his not-so-sober self. It provided quite the entertainment to the Journal staff for about 15 minutes.
Experience #2 The Pizza Delivery Boy from Heck
I, because I was working diligently on a paper (**procrastination, cough cough*), decided to lessen my load last Thursday night and just call and order a pizza. Who knew having a pizza delivered could present such a hassle. No joke, I stayed on the phone for 20 minutes as the Pizza Hut people tried to figure why I was considered out-of-range, even though they can deliver into Trenton. Finally, they found out that I had somehow been typed in as a Chiefland address (I live right on the line). Understandable…still it took FOREVER. They were supposed to deliver in about an hour… Yeah, that didn’t happen. Two and a half hours later…I still didn’t have my pizza. I’d love to tell you what was said when Pizza Hut called my house to see if their driver (who had been MIA for an hour or so) had ever made it to my house. Dad answered. Need I say more? I will fill y’all in about what all he said in another blog entitled “Sheffield Phone Etiquette” that I will be posting this week. Needless to say, after our long wait, I still wound up driving to Chiefland to pick up a pizza. So much for the paper.
Experience #3 My run-in with the female-version of Monk
Before I begin, I will say, that never have I ever found the thought of stabbing someone with a letter opener so appealing. (Have I mentioned that I could GREATLY benefit from Anger Management classes?) This mono-tone retired Accountant came in on Friday and truly blessed my heart. I now know why people don’t ask God for patience. Lord knows, the woman was tryin’ my patience.
Onto the story. So this woman came in looking for pen refills. I HATE having to look for these things, because I never can seem to find the right ones. Well, it took her about five minutes to actually hand me the pens that she needed refills for (as I stood with my hand out for five minutes) because she was carrying on a conversation with my boss. Apparently, she can’t multi-task. So, after she finally hands me the blankety-blank pens…she stands about 3” away from me for 30 minutes looking for the dang refills. All the while she is talking to me in the most mono-tone boring freaking voice…all about pen refills!!!! AHHHHH! We find 2 out of 3 (that’s pretty good, right?). Blah, blah, blah…We still have to stand there a few minutes as I DESPERATELY search for that third refill, because she’s not ready to give up and I’m wanting her to get the H out of the Journal. No luck. FINALLY, as I’m ringing her up, she starts trying to re-assemble the pen. It doesn’t go back together. Here is what the next ten minutes sound like…”It just doesn’t seem to want to go back together. Why doesn’t it want to go back together (click click click)? Did you break it? Did you put the right spring back in it? (Click Click Clikc) What’s wrong with it? It just doesn’t want to go back together.” And so-on and so-forth for 10 minutes. All I wanted to say to her was “Give me the damn $1.50.” The freakin’ pen wouldn’t have worked ANYWAYS because it is out of ink! Still, I searched high and low for a spring that could have been switched. We had other customers that sat there smiling sympathetically at me. Chris tried to help her with the pen. Towards the end, I just gave her a blank stare, a yawn, and said “I don’t know, I just don’t know what’s wrong with it. I’m sorry….I just don’t know.” I desperately wanted to give her $3 to buy another pen. Did I mention that these were COMPLIMENTARY pens that she had snagged from other businesses. WTH?????? If you are a retired accountant, couldn’t you afford a $3 pen? Oh.My.Gosh! I wanted to kill her. After she left, we still had customers in the Journal when I belted out “Oh My Gosh! That woman just wasted 40 minutes of my freakin’ life!” Needless to say, I don’t think I’ll be earning employee of the month any time soon.
Well, that was my drama from last week….