I’m usually a pretty level-headed person. I get annoyed with the best of ’em, mind you, but tend to maintain an even keel. You’ll rarely hear me raise my voice at anyone, much less a poor customer service rep on the phone since, after all, we know they must hate their job. I take pity on them, wish them mental good thoughts for future career advancements, and try to maintain a modicum of dignity as I explain the situation that precipitated the call.
Today is the exception. Rope, I have met the end of it.
I think it’s just living in a state of being perpetually behind. And I’m not talking "bills a few days late" behind, I’m referring to "getting mail from December" behind. After moving in April, then October, then March, the US Postal Service is perplexed with me. Not that I blame them; hell, I’m a hard lady to track down! But despite me manually calling all of my utility companies, credit card companies, wine clubs, gas cards, insurance agencies (and I could go on, but you get the point), bills are somehow falling through the cracks and landing on my doorstep (literally) MONTHS late. Keeping track of what I’ve paid, what I’ve closed, what is still outstanding has been an exercise in exacerbation.
Add to that frustration the fact that Georgia (heretofore known as "the state with the most back-assward stupid assholes in the government") is now claiming my vehicle doesn’t have a valid registration is pushing me right near the edge of the mountain, to the end of my proverbial rope. I HAVE MOVED. I HAVE REGISTERED MY VEHICLE IN CALIFORNIA. I HAVE INSURANCE. WHY, then, they are now requiring me to get a notarized letter detailing this or else charge me with a $200 fine is beyond me. I have calmly called to explain the situation. I have called again. And again. I have mailed copies of the new registratin, the new insurance. I haven’t, however, gotten this notarized because FOR GOD’S SAKE, who has the time for this? I DON’T LIVE IN GEORGIA. I LIVE IN CALIFORNIA. I AM NOT PAYING $15 TO PROVE THIS TO YOU.
I think I need a nap.
Or a break.
Or a vacation.
Or a drink.
Or a long, lazy Sunday in bed.
(Or all five.)