Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Dontcha love being on hold so long that you actually forget what you called to complain about in the first place?

That's what usually happens to me. And I'll just tell you, it just ruins your credibility and bargaining power, too.

Call it stupidity or call it optimism, I've been on hold for a new garbage can from my garbage company for 6.11 minutes now. I've already asked them for one about 2 months ago. And what to my wondering eyes did appear: No new garbage can. Just a big, fat nothing.

me: "Hey, we're getting a new garbage can! I finally remembered to call those bastards. They told me to leave the old one out for a few days, and they'll replace it. Neat huh?"

Ron: "That's the spirit."

The real spirit is that I actually got excited over the promise of a new garbage can. My dreams as a little girl are all coming true.

First, a new garbage can. Next stop, Hollywood.

me (at Home Depot, with Ron, heaving potting soil and mulch up to a counter on my day off):
"And to think, I thought I'd be a rich, famous actress with a yardman by now."

Only problem with that is I don't like to act.

12.52 minutes on hold. Even though I still remember what I am calling about, now I have to pee. Nature wins out over patience and stupidity.

No. I cannot be that weak, can I? I mean, if you really want something in this world, you have to be able to stick with it. As small as my dreams and aspirations have become, I want a new damn garbage can. Is it worth renal shutdown? Perhaps.

14.12 minutes, and I am feeling sick just thinking about how stupid things like this are. But I'll be tied to a stake and burnt before I hang up. Or, is it smarter to actually hang up and try again later?

I read somewhere once: "In a hundred years, this won't matter. It barely matters now."

If I don't get a new garbage can soon, then in a hundred years, I'll come back to haunt every one of my neighbors' shiny new garbage cans. I can feel it.

Even though they'll all be innocently dead and our houses will be levelled to make a Super Giant Wal-Mart, I can feel the oncoming haunting in my bones. Even though my eyes are beginning to glaze over from the onset of kidney failure, I'm good.

Dreaming big is fine, but dreaming small is more practical. That sounds like something urine-filled/yellow-bellied weakling would say!! What has happened to me?

Ew. I referred to myself as "urine-filled." Oh well. To some, that's sexy and hails big bucks. I still to this minute do not know what a "flexy girl pee hole" is, but it's still the most popular search referral to this site.

So get an eyeful here of that wonderful Flexy Girl Pee Hole, whatever that may be, you frantically searching soul, you. It's not as exciting as waiting breathlessly steeping in your own tinkle in hopes you'll get a brand new garbage can, but I'll admit, it sure seems related somehow.

17.42 minutes. Oh my dear Lord: a human voice. She sounds sweet. Almost angelic. I recognize her. This is the customer service rep I talked to last time. How could she have done this to me? She sounds so sweet.

me: "yeah, I called to get a new one, like, two months ago."
her: "Oh my! You called back in August, that's longer than two months. Let's see..."

That's right. Make me feel special.

her: "It says they tried to deliver and failed, they called this number -- 468-0293..."

me (thinking "who the @#$%in' hell's number is that?"...hey WAIT a MINNIT...you told me to leave the garbage can out, no questions, no cops, and I'd get a new one...no cally calls on the phone! -- you're obviously trying to bamboozle me! WHY I OUGHTA --) : "huh. I don't know that number. Try this new one..."

her: "Thank you, ma'am. You'll receive a new garbage can tomorrow... Can I do anything else for you?"

me (Yes. Make me a rich, famous actress with a yardman): "No, that's it. Thank you very much!"

And now, it's tee time.

Hey. Someone out there is searching to know these things.





2 comments:

Brian said...

First, a new garbage can. Next stop, Hollywood.In California, they don't throw away their garbage, they make it into TV shows
(Woody Allen, "Annie Hall")

me said...

Much like Nostradamus, he accurately predicted reality tv.