Sometimes you start your day with a spring in your step, and the next thing you know you’re falling on your face. Or you settle in to a warm, dark, cozy spot and wind up nearly crushed to death by a giant toe.

Wait, what?

I got a great night sleep last night. This is the girls’ one and only week of summer camp, so I hit the ground ready to get a lot done at work. Only after I dropped them at camp did I realize I had missed an important text. When I tried to remedy the situation I discovered that my phone service had been shut off.

So I was 45 minutes from work (but on my way!) knowing that I would be arriving to some unhappy folks there, and there was nothing I could do it to fix it, because I hadn’t paid my phone bill.

(Except I had paid my phone bill).

I got to work and righted the ship, then spent two hours back and forth with calls between my bank and verizon, because apparently my bank “upgraded” their online banking and in the process they sent my last two cell phone payments to some unknown faction of verizon.

All the while I’m reminding myself that this is not the middle man’s (or in most cases today, the middle-woman’s) fault.

Don’t get mad at her, I thought. It’s not her fault that they have no idea where my $400 went!

I was a telemarketer in my twenties, briefly. I was decent at it, I think because I sounded like a little kid, and people at least waited until I was done with my shbiel about refinancing before they told me to go to hell.  In my opinion, that job was one step up from the payment resolution center at verizon.

At least as a telemarketer, I would sometimes stumble across the random friendly (and most likely super-lonely) cold call recipient who was glad to have someone to talk to at night…even if it was about mortgage rates.

Whereas, the payment resolution center employee is hearing from two types of people – the ones begging to not have their phones turned off even though they can’t pay, and the ones who are pissed because they paid the damn bill and somebody somewhere messed up.

Not a good time.

I honestly think as frustrating as the experience was, it went a lot more smoothly because I was kind…and calm. People want to help you when you’re not blaming them.

Two hours later…and I was moving on with my day!

This evening when we got home, Ruby sweetly went upstairs to get my slippers for me. She stuck her foot into one of them and was pinched on the toe by this thing…

She freaked out of course, and screamed bloody murder. I totally thought she was exaggerating until I saw the thing sticking its head out from my slipper like some prehistoric jack-in-the-box.  Beau yelled, “What the fuuuuu….” and I didn’t even correct her because damn, at least she was (almost) using the expression under worthy circumstances!

“Should we squish it?!” they yelled.

“Nooooo, we will put it outside where it belongs,” I said. “He only pinched your toe because you were about the squish him!”

I am not sure what my point is here, exactly, nor who the beetle is in this analogy – me or the verizon lady.  Both of us ended up having to deal with an unpleasant situation that wasn’t our fault…

I guess sometimes one has to decide whether or not to bare one’s pincers – and then hope if they do that it doesn’t just get them squished.

 

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