It Seems Like a Dream

I can't believe my vacation is over.  It went so fast!  First I was picking up my parents from the airport and rushing them through lunch, so I could get on a conference call that ended up starting 2 hours late....  And the next thing I know, mom and dad are safely tucked away in tornado land, and I'm here at my computer.  How did it happen?

In case anyone was worried, we all made up yesterday.  There was no bickering to be had.  We drove from Salinas up to Napa and back to the city.  Okay, we actually went back to the airport because my parents decided they didn't want to sleep in my closet.  They didn't come out and say it, but I know that was the reason.  There were claims of them not wanting to force me out of bed at 6 o'clock in the morning, but I know why the caged bird sings.  You don't have to tell me twice.  Instead of my closet, they slept in the noisiest room along Hwy 101.  Man, that place was loud!  They were on the 5th floor facing the highway, and between the sound of traffic and the high winds, you would have thought they were sleeping on the Bay Bridge.

Hopefully they slept.  They didn't call.  Hopefully they got home.  They didn't call.  Hopefully their home wasn't swept away by tornadoes.  I know nothing of it.

I'm sure I've got a good story in me somewhere.  Well, actually I do.  Here's a classic line from my mom.  Last Friday, we were looking for a place to eat.  My dad (surprisingly) suggested Chinese.  He wanted to go to Chinatown.  Mom didn't.  I decided to either take them to a place in my neighborhood or in another neighborhood.  (Just as an aside, I chose to go to the place in the other neighborhood and regretted it because, although the food is good, I forgot that it is way too bright, way too cold, and the waitstaff is way too pushy and rude.  My neighborhood joint is delicious WITH friendly service...and it's warm.)  As we were leaving the downtown area, Dad suggested that we go to the Empress of China (a favorite of his).  I was all for it.  I really had no problem turning the car around.  Mom, on the other hand, pulled one of her classic diversion tactics.  It goes like this.

"Oh, no.  You don't want to go there.  They've changed hands.  The quality has really gone downhill.  It's not like you remember it.  It's very different.  Really unfortunate."

Uhh...what newsletter does my mom get that tells her this information?  She pulls this ALL THE TIME when she doesn't want to go somewhere (usually because of convenience).  Apparently, this source is always telling her when any restaurant in the country changes hands and subsequently loses ground in the quality arena.  To be fair, sometimes she's right.  In this instance, I'm pretty sure she's not.  Surprisingly, though, it totally worked on my dad.  Unfortunately, the meal we had (albeit tasty) did not live up to his expectations.  We should have gone to the Empress of China.

No wonder I'm such a weirdo.

Oh well, the trip is over.  Hopefully I let them know how much I appreciated it and had fun (despite the blow-ups).  Maybe one day they'll come back.

I miss them already.

A Few Trip Highlights

Day 2:

Driving in Monterey. Taking an exit (which is two lanes) off of the main road to get to Cannery Row.

Mom: (screams) Pull over. You’re going to get hit!

Me: (screams) What? What? What? Where?

Dad: (yells) She’s not going to get hit. She’s exiting.

Me: I had my own lane.

Mom: I didn’t see that. But that car.

Dad: The car had its own lane too. Cardelia, you don’t have to scream.

Me: She terrified me with her screaming.

Mom: I looked up at the wrong time.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Minutes earlier, dad was nothing short of surly, saying things like "I don’t know why we’re here. There’s nothing to do. What are we going to do here? There’s nothing at Cannery Row."

The problem? No coffee. My solution? Buy coffee. His reaction? Sullen stubbornness and outright refusal to get coffee. Me? Hungry, but knowing that crankypants would be too impatient to sit through me eating anything (especially after storming out of the coffee shop saying he didn’t want anything), I denied myself. Instead, I bought him coffee to go. He was much better after that.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

After driving for an hour through Big Sur, the stress of driving through Big Sur with my parents in the car became too much. I handed Dad the keys. Everything was much better after that.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Once we checked into our hotel in Cambria, we started the process of finding a place to eat. Dad located a place that served Chicken Fried Steak. Needless to say, he was in. We went there, and much to our surprise, the Sow’s Ear was quite upscale. In fact, it may have been the ritziest place in town. My dad paid three times what he’s ever paid for a chicken fried steak. I split a delicious chicken dish with my mom. We even got dessert. That’s what he gets for insisting on Chili’s for my birthday dinner. Touche!

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Day 3:

After nap time, we headed down to San Luis Obispo. Dad wanted to go somewhere, and I thought that might be a good "somewhere". Knowing that he’s picky and puts up a stink about everything, I had him read about SLO and have the final say on whether or not it would be a worthwhile trip. He agreed. We went to SLO. As I pulled into my parking spot, the following conversation took place.

Dad: Why are we here anyway?

Me: Because you wanted to go somewhere, and I thought this might be a nice place.

Dad: Is there anything to do here? I don’t know why we’re here.

Me: I don’t know either. It might be fun to walk around.

Dad: If we don’t have anything to do here, why are we parking.

Me: (silent)

Dad: (silent)

Me: (turning to Dad) I’m sorry I can’t make this more fun to you. I’m doing the best I can here, but you’re not helping.

As we walked through the streets of downtown San Luis Obispo, I stopped talking to my parents. Halfway through our 1 hour stay, I chose to speak to him again. Once in the car, I apologized for being rude (though he and I both should be happy that I walked 2 blocks ahead of him because I really just wanted to say "F-- you". Those fighting words don’t leave much room for reconciliation. Alone time was needed). All was forgiven, and we had a very nice evening.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the ranch, er, hotel, we had dinner. With the hotel reservation, we got a free dinner for two. Since there were three of us, one of us would have to pay. That person was my mom because she got the cheaper dish. Our waiter was lacking in finesse. He stumbled over to our table with his arms crossed and slumped over the extra chair. For about two seconds, I thought he might be "special" or stoned. As it turned out, he was just an idiot. Here are some the more choice things he said:

Waiter: Okay, so I see there are three of you, and that means one of you will have to pay.

Dad: Yes.

Me: Yeah, we figured as much.

Waiter: So, here’s the deal. You get 2 entrees and a bottle of wine for free. Appetizers, salads, and dessert are extra.

Family: Okay.

Waiter: So, the wine is our house wine. We have Cabernet, Chardonnay, and Viognier. Or, if you want to order from the menu, we’ll take $7 off the cost.

Me: (looking at my beer-drinking father and non-drinking mother) I think we’ll be fine with the Cabernet.

Waiter: (looking disappointed) Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, it’s the house wine, so that’s never a good sign. But, it does come from Castoro, so it’s not terrible. But, you know.

Me: So, what would you recommend?

Waiter: I don’t drink wine, so I don’t recommend any of it.

Later, he seated a young-ish couple. He explained the whole included dinner to them and offered them $8 off a bottle of wine. Yoinks!

When he gave us our bill, he wrote, in hand, what he wanted as a tip. My dad took one look at it and said, "I was going to give him more than that, but knowing that his expectations are low, I’ll just give him what he requested."

There was a table of 6 sitting next to us. When the waiter brought their check, he said, "You know, you guys were a lot of trouble for me. It took me forever to figure out this check and split it up. The least you could do is throw me an extra couple of bucks for my effort."

And finally, a British family was sitting at another table near us. When he heard that she was British, he said, "Are you from England?"

"I am." She replied.

"Wow. I’m gonna go to England sometime, so you could teach me a thing or two." She looked at him curiously. "So, all I know how to do in England is go to the bathroom." The woman looked horrified. "Yeah, you call it ’the loo’, right?"

The woman laughed "Yes, we do. And you should know that in England, men don’t wear pants."

Now the waiter was horrified. "What?"

She smiled, "No. They wear trousers."

I think I learned some valuable lessons about earning tips.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Day 4:

Not much to say about today. We went to Paso Robles and took a little winery tour. It was fun. Dad found a quasi-chain restaurant for lunch. Then, it was his day to plan. That can only mean one thing. Heavy driving. We drove endlessly. He found a lovely, windy road for us. An hour and a half in, I inquired about a restroom. Apparently, it was 50 miles away. I was busy being a carsick trooper when my mom decided we needed to find me a restroom. Dad instructed her to take another road back to the 101. Then he told us that he had to change his lodging plans because we were going off-track. We were halfway to King City when I looked at the map and noticed that a restroom could have been found at the Pinnacle National Monument that was only 15 miles from where we turned off the road. Nobody wanted to hear it. We got to a gas station, used the facilities, and bought some oreos. Once we made it to Salinas (the delightful town in which I’m about to lay my head), Dad revealed to us that he needed to go to the bathroom the whole time we were on his scenic road. In fact, he was feeling a little desperate for a bathroom, but he used me as his scapegoat. Nice.

I never realized how much blame transference goes on in my family. When driving, they both give me directions, I follow them, and then when we get lost, they say "Why did you do that? I told you to go the other way." Real cool.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

So, that’s the update on my odyssey. It’s actually been pretty fun, but I’m tired. Exhausted. I can’t wait to go home and sleep on my futon (because my parents are sleeping on my bed). I’m also a little panicked about all the things I have to do when I go home. You know...taxes, wine education, fun facts about the city of San Francisco, changing my rear tire on my bike, acquiring camping equipment before Friday, driving back down the coast for a triathlon camping trip. Stuff.

Hulk Hogan Almost Ruined My Lunch!

Ah, Day 3 of the great California Coastal Adventure! What can I say except...I’d like a little "me" time. So, I guess I’ve got it because right now we’re having an impromptu nap time. It’s 1:30, and we did have our lunch at 11:30. Yeah, my folks are getting old.

Before I regale you with tales of Day 2, let me just tell you all about the glorious lunch we shared. This morning we went to Hearst Castle, which is pretty incredible. As we approached the castle entrance, panic hit. I turned into the entrance labeled "Hearst Castle", and my mom immediately started panicking (out loud), "No. You missed the turn. We have to turn left, not right!"

"But this is the entrance." I responded.

"No, we have to see a movie first, and that’s off the main road."

"But this is the main road. I just passed the entrance."

"No. The directions said you had to go to the other side of the street." She was very distraught and feeling suddenly bullied.

Stopping the car, "Well, you didn’t tell me that." The whole time this is going on, my dad was getting irritated, and it started off as a good morning for him. He got up early, drank some coffee, and wandered around. It was a huge improvement over yesterday’s crankypants behavior.

"Well, fine. Just go where you want. I guess we’ll skip the movie." And now the martyr made an appearance.

"Doesn’t it seem strange that the visitor’s center would be outside of the grounds?"

"I’m just telling you what the directions said. We have to go to the visitor’s center."

Just at this moment, we see a sign that reads "Visitor’s Center". "I think the visitor’s center is over here. How about we try this before turning around?"

Totally exasperated, my mom replied, "Well, I’m just telling you, the visitor’s center is supposed to be off the main road."

Uh-huh, right... "This is the main road. The other road was the highway." I said, knowing that trouble was brewing.

"Just do what you want. What do I know?" Ah, the martyr!

Just then, we happened upon the visitor’s center, and all was forgotten. We went inside. Mom thought she might want some tea. She never got the tea, and then proceeded to whimper about how she wanted tea. But, even though she had plenty of time and ability to get said tea, didn’t. However, it became an issue that I had to hear about...in much the same way that I had to deal with my dad not getting coffee, then refusing to get coffee at the coffee shop, then walking out saying he didn’t want coffee...so I had to go back to the coffee shop and buy him coffee while he wasn’t looking...and he graciously accepted it...and then was much less of a bear. Yeah...a couple of big babies, they are. And, yes, I know...I’m not that much better. Should I ever become old and married, this is what my husband will have to suffer through. I look forward to it.

Anyway...the tour was nice. The guide was far from peppy and quite sarcastic (in a cynical sort of way). The castle is impressive, the view is grand. We finished the tour, and it was time to eat. Oh, eating. My favorite part of traveling with my parents. What to do? Where to go? I took us to downtown Cambria where we dined last night. Having taken fastidious notes in my head, I was able to point out all of the restaurants on the street. We decided upon Mexican, and we ended up at a place that served burgers (which seemed like a genius option for my dad since he’s willing to eat both of those things).

We walked in at the crack of 11:30, and there was a couple sitting in the window, and a man ordering at the kitchen. We stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Immediately, I felt impending doom. We weren’t going to stay because my dad got irritated within the first 15 seconds of walking in the door. Actually, he seemed irritated before we walked in because it wasn’t exactly what he wanted (and, to be honest, I don’t think he even knows what he wants when it comes to dining). 

"So, do we just sit anywhere?" he asked me.

"I don’t know. I’ve never been here. I suppose we could."

"Well, I don’t know either. The sign says seat yourself."

Annoyed, I replied, "Then I guess that’s what we do. Where do you want to sit? We’ve got the whole restaurant."

"I don’t know. Can we just sit?"

"Yeah, let’s sit here," I offered, pointing to a booth.

"I don’t want to sit in a booth. I wanna sit a table."

So we sat at a table. The man ordering at the kitchen was very chatty, and he sounded like Hulk Hogan. As we sat there, waiting for the menus, he continued to talk to the server/host/manager/only-non-cooking-worker-in-the-joint, which delayed him (the server) from coming over to us.

The server was being very polite to Hulk, but he wasn’t getting the message. At last, he sat down, announcing, "I’m just gonna sit over here in my regular seat." The server nodded over to him and gave us our menus and asked us for our drink orders. "Yeah, so you know [insert name here]? He just got out."

The server, smiling, said, "Yeah, I know."

"I haven’t seen him though. Have you?"

The server kept trying to avoid the conversation, but wasn’t able to. "No, not too much."

"Isn’t he your cousin?"

"Yeah," said the server. Looking down again to take our order.

"I haven’t seen him. I wonder where he is."

Laughing, the server responded, "He’s probably trying to stay good."

"Yeah, maybe. You know he used to live with me before he went in. He was my roommate."

"Oh," turning to us. "Do you know what you want?"

Hulk wouldn’t let the conversation end there. "So, do you still have two jobs?"

"No, just this one."

"That’s good. I’ve still got my job. Man, it’s tough, ya know?"

Why? Why? Why? I was so sure we were going to walk out because Hulk Hogan wouldn’t shut up about some guy that just got out of prison. This was not a good sign. Finally, he was quiet, and we placed our drink order. My dad then turned to me and said, "Not too many people in here," which was the beginning of his exit strategy.

"Uhh...it’s not even noon. We’re a little early."

"Oh."

We placed our order, and within minutes, the restaurant was full, and Hulk Hogan was eating quietly in the corner. I have no idea if my dad liked his meal, but he didn’t complain, so that’s a good sign.

And now, I’m told that nap time is over. We have to go somewhere--anywhere. And we better enjoy it!

Today I Turned 12!

So, it’s my birthday. Yeah, I’m pretty excited too. I woke up and didn’t go running because I had too much to do before picking up my parents to embark on our California road trip. I was running late because....I was. I was also certain that my dad was going to be all pissy because I was running late. Fortunately for me, he was in a good mood because my breakfast suggestion was a huge success. Thank you, Sears Fine Foods. I’ve never been there myself, but apparently I should go sometime!

So, everything was going pretty well. I managed to squelch their bad passenger habits yesterday when I immediately yelled at my mom for her incessant backseat driving: "That car is changing lanes! OH! OH! That car is rolling back at the stop sign! There’s a man 12 blocks away, crossing the street. You are in the middle lane and there are cars around you! This is a hill! You have to turn! Stop sign! Don’t drive in the dark! Never leave your house after dusk!" Okay, so the last one is actually something she used to tell me in college, apparently without realizing that the sun went down at 3:45 in the winter, so to not leave my dorm room after dusk meant to go without food since dinner didn’t start until 4:45.

As I was saying, everything was going fine. They were doing an excellent job of keeping their traps shut. The only issue was that of food. It’s too expensive, and regardless of what I choose, my dad will not be pleased. He’s a picky eater, but not in that foodie sort of way. He just likes three things, and two of them are fried, and none of them are green. Well, actually he does like a fried green thing (okra, in case you are wondering), but that’s not my point here. What I’m trying to get at is that I stress, STRESS, over picking meals for my parents (my mom has the added issue of only being able to eat steamed vegetables and nuts). To be honest, I hate picking restaurants for anyone. Nine times out of ten, I choose a stinker. I especially hate choosing restaurants for picky people that think they are willing to eat anything...until they get into the restaurant. But I digress... We had fish and chips for lunch. It was good. It was over-priced. It made all of us want to sleep.

Now, when I embarked on this birthday expedition, I was under the impression (which I’m starting to think was a false one) that I wouldn’t do the majority of the driving once we left the city. In case you hadn’t already figured it out, driving with my parents is nothing short of tense. The only thing that saved me with driving in San Francisco was the day five years ago when my dad drove (a very short distance) in the city and decided he never wanted to do that again. After that, he stopped complaining and directing me. Of course, today at lunch he started to make a crack about my driving, and I chose that moment to remind him that I am much more adept at city driving than he is. The conversation ended there.

Okay, so once again, I’m totally off the subject. After lunch, I learned that my dad doesn’t drive after noon. Apparently he gets tired after eating a boatload of fried food. Guess who got to continue? That’s right, birthday girl. Unfortunately, birthday girl was sleepy too because she only got 4 hours of sleep, and she ate her weight in fish and chips. I suffered through it.

Then we got to Santa Cruz, and that’s when the moratorium on backseat driving was lifted. Within minutes, cracks were being made about me being lost (in a town I’ve only been to one time before...and I wasn’t the one driving). In true form, I couldn’t do anything right. And then, just as I turned onto the street to park at the boardwalk, but got a little flustered as a group of kids ran into the crosswalk and another car blocked me in the intersection, my dad started complaining about my driving. I wasn’t having it, so I yelled back...and the games began.

It became clear that we needed some alone time, so I was allowed to walk 10 feet ahead on the boardwalk, the whole while mumbling about my birthday, and not liking to drive, and never getting to do what I want. You know, mostly the same kind of thing I would silently complain about when I was 12 (though the driving part wasn’t there at the time). We made up on the boardwalk by never mentioning the incident again and sharing a Dr. Pepper. Then, my brother called at just the right time, so I could vent my frustration to him.

With that little field trip done, we headed to the hotel (with the help of a GPS since I don’t have any maps of the area and have never been to this part of the world before). All was right with the world, until it was time to eat. Since we didn’t have any books or maps, we needed to buy some. It was the only way to get my dad to stop complaining about how I don’t know my way around cities I’ve never visited. After using my blackberry to locate a bookstore, I decided to hunt down some food choices too. Dad said Chili’s. I looked it up, knowing that it was a definite possibility, birthday or not. When I questioned him on his actual desire to go to Chili’s, he said he was kidding and didn’t care. You might think this was a good sign. Hell, I thought it was a good sign, but the events that unfolded once we got to the main shopping/dining area proved otherwise.

We bought our books and then took a stroll down the street to select a restaurant. We had plenty of options: Italian, Pizza, Mexican (sit-down or taqueria), Irish Pub, Indian, California, Asian. Knowing my dad, the only real options were Italian, Pizza, Mexican, or American--and really, American is the only option. He wanted none of it. I kept trying to come up with anything, and he was getting crankier and crankier because he didn’t want to eat at some California restaurant where they serve sprouts (since that’s what I’m always ordering when I go out). And I was getting irritated. It was my birthday, and I had to drive the whole way down there, and I had to spend all of my non-driving time trying to come up with a restaurant option that would satisfy my father despite the fact that *I* should be the one to choose the restaurant. However, choosing a restaurant that he dislikes makes the whole experience far too frustrating to enjoy, so...

We went to Chili’s. I have to admit that I was a little upset. Tears may have been choked back. Seriously? Chili’s? We all know that I frequent chain restaurants more than I’d like to admit, but we also know that I frequent them alone. It’s a weird not-so-secret secret hobby. But I really didn’t want to go to Chili’s on my birthday. Unfortunately, I didn’t really have a choice. Regardless of the fact that I’ve walked this earth for over 30 years, my dad still rules the roost.

Off we went to Capitola, to eat at Chili’s in the mall. Once we walked in, I decided to just let it go. My dad actually seemed happy, and a happy dad is much less stressful for me. As we waited for a table, I came to the most delightful realization. It was my birthday, AND I was at a chain restaurant. Anybody else know where I’m going here? That’s right, free dessert! I announced my plan to my parents. They laughed, though I could see my dad realize what his picky eating habits had done to my birthday dinner. Once we were seated, the server came by and asked, "Hi, how are all doing tonight?"

"Great," I said. "Today’s my birthday."

"Oh! Happy birthday!" He replied, "We’ll take care of you."

Sweet! I was so totally in. What would I get? I hoped for the molten chocolate cake. Surely they’d give me that! We ordered our food, and I chose a salad (which, to be completely honest was just what the doctor ordered. My diet has gone to s***). Our food came. I enjoyed mine with the minor exception of the mountain of seasoned salt they poured on top of my salad (Why?!). My only other complaint was the lack of refills on my iced tea. If I only had one reason to go to a chain restaurant (especially a Texas-based chain), it’s for the fast and furious refills. I like to get my money’s worth out of the deal, ya know?

Just as I finished up my salad, the cheers of the waitstaff came rumbling down the aisle. It was birthday time! They sang me a song. I was a little embarrassed, especially knowing that I intentionally brought this upon myself, and then, they presented me with my free dessert...

A chocolate milkshake.

My mom and I laughed.

I can’t drink milk.

Chili’s won.

I still had some of it. So far, I think my body is giving me a pass today.

Nicely played, chain restaurant. Bravo!

As we walked to the car, my dad apologized for making me go to Chili’s on my birthday. I felt bad. It was actually pretty fun...and funny, not to mention memorable.

What Kind of Hotel Is This Anyway?

Yesterday, I felt all igry.  I didn’t want to (but, really, when does anyone WANT to feel igry?), but it just happened.

My parents are in town, and they are staying at a swanky hotel.  We were hanging out in the room, watching the boob toob (as my grandma used ot refer to it), when we decided to leave and get dinner.  As we opened the door into the grand hallway, we heard a woman in a room all the way at the other end of the very LONG hallway....enjoying herself (and whomever she was with).  I immediately heard it and panicked.  What to do?  I’m with my parents.  I don’t want to have to listen to this in their presence.  I don’t want to have to listen to this outside of their presence, but it seems even more heinous when they are right there.  My mom suggested we walk the other direction, but that was a dead-end.  So, we wandered down the hall, and the woman’s cries of ecstasy got louder as we finally passed her door (which was on the corner, so her moans echoed throughout two hallways).  All we could do was laugh.  And once we got into the elevator, all was restored.  We never spoke of the incident again.

Eww...igry!

Could it Be? Did My Nightmare Just End?

Well, in true triathlete form, I’m skipping track practice today.  Why?  Because I need to clean my house.  My parents will be here tomorrow, and it’s a disaster.  Since I don’t want to suffer through my mom’s disappointment, I will clean.  Okay, I will do a half-assed job of cleaning and hide the rest.

But that’s not why I’m here.  I just got off the phone with Phonies.  Fingers crossed, it was my final call.

Things have been a little quiet on the Phonies front, mostly because I’ve been too busy to deal with it.  Let’s see, where did we leave off?  I returned the phone and was awaiting my refund.  I was also awaiting a refund for the rest of those erroneous charges, which added up to $10 (yes, I know I’m cheap--shut it).

So, my bill arrived, and it had a negative balance.  Hoorah.  But it wasn’t negative enough for my satisfaction.  Two days later, I checked my account on the website, and the number was more negative, but not negative enough to account for the price of the phone.  I had a sinking suspicion that they cheated me out of my money.  I know, how could I possibly think such a thing?  They’ve been so honest and giving. 

Last week, I finally found some time to call them, and even though it was 2 o’clock in the afternoon, the call center was closed.  I know what you’re thinking...they’ve totally blackballed me.  Knowing that my hands were tied and not wanting to get into another tete-a-tete with the online support, I opted to wait a few days.

Today was the day.  I called, and I spoke with Phyllis.  She was a sweet lady--dumb as a box of rocks, but sweet.  Feeling that honey would get me further (and feeling a little removed from the whole situation since I hadn’t spoken to them in a month), I was nothing but sugar.  Phyllis ate it up.  She couldn’t figure out what I was talking about, but she was on my side.  She read me every line item on my bill.  She hemmed and hawed, not understanding how or why I would have $475 in credits.  When I started discussing my concern about getting under-credited for the phone, she told me that I had already gotten $475 in credit and felt that I should be happy with that.  I will never be happy with that.  I wanted the remaining $60....and I wanted that other $10 as well...but not as much as the $60.  After crunching some numbers with her, I managed to convince her that I did actually have a case. 

Prior to this happening, there was a hilarious conversation in which, I was trying to explain that the credit on my bill should be larger.  Phyllis, in all her sweetness, said, with great concern, "Oh dear.  You know just because there’s a negative next to that number...  It doesn’t mean you are in the negative.  We owe you money."

Oh Phyllis...you silly goose!  "Oh, I KNOW that.  You owe me quite a bit of money.  I’m not one to drop the fight early either."  And we laughed.

Then, she transferred me to tele-sales.  The woman helping me at tele-sales was also very nice.  I returned the favor and explained my situation.  When she first looked up the phone credit, which was $60 less than what I paid, she told me that they had already reimbursed me for the remainder of that balance back in February.  "Ha!" I said. "Those credits were for other erroneous (my favorite word to throw around with Phonies) charges.  Only $40 was taken off of the price of the phone."

Further investigation ensued, and she returned to tell me that I did have a point.  She wrote some notes in my file and transferred me to finance, so they could make the changes.  When I got transferred, I found myself stuck in computer option hell.  How could this be?  It didn’t even respond to my cries for a person. Finally, after pushing several buttons, I was transferred...to Passion.

Passion was no-nonsense.  If ever there was a stereotypical finance employee, it was her.  It took awhile, but I made her laugh.  Within minutes, she saw that they DID owe me $60, and she credited me.  Then, I asked her how I could get that money, and Passion was silent.  I thought I lost her, so I repeated my query about getting a check in the mail.  "Why would you want that?  You’ve got the credit on your account."  Oh, Passion...so innocent and naive.  It took some explaining, but telling her my tale of cancelling my service at the end of the month, she put me on hold.

Before I knew what was happening, Omega was on the line to help me.  At first I hoped she said, Amanda, but she didn’t.  Her name was Omega, and, to the best of my knowledge, she isn’t one of the American Gladiators.

"Miss Cardelia, how can I help you?"

"Well, I want to get this credit on my account sent to me in check form.  I’ll even settle for you depositing into my bank account (from which you unethically took it a month ago--I didn’t say that part)."

If I thought Passion was no-nonsense, I was wrong.  Omega had this act down.  "You can’t cancel your account.  You have an equipment upgrade, so you’re contract isn’t up for another 2 years."

She clearly had no idea who she was dealing with.  "Uhh...that’s impossible.  I returned that phone.  The whole reason I have this enormous credit is because I got refunded for it.  There’s no equipment upgrade here.  Trust me.  I’d take a picture of me holding the phone in front of the mirror, except that it doesn’t have a camera (Okay, I didn’t say that last sentence either, but it would have been rad if I did.)"

"Did you return it after 30 days?"

Seriously?  What’s with this question?  And, I’ve said it before, what the hell kind of cheap-ass computers are they using over at Phonies?  How is this information not right there?  Why must I go through the whole ordeal EVERY F-ING TIME?  "It was in your warehouse on February 27.  I got refunded.  It was well within the 30 day time limit."

"Oh, I see that.  Why didn’t you cancel your service when you returned the phone?"  She asked, sure that she had me between a rock in a hard place.

"Because my contract isn’t up until the end of April, and the only way to avoid the early termination fee was to keep the account until then."

Still not having it, she replied, "Well, why did you want to cancel your service in the first place?"

I can’t believe that I haven’t just recorded this already.  I’m bored with myself here.  I went through the whole thing, and just like everyone else, she decided to stick with the "technical issues" reason as my reason for leaving Phonies.  Knowing that that wasn’t good enough, I expressed my disgust with their lies.  Then she told me she was canceling the account.  Worried, I asked if she was charging me a fee.  Apparently she waived that because there was no way to convince me to stick with them.  Why couldn’t that have happened two months ago?  Where have you been all of my life, Omega?

So, as of April 10, I am free of Phonies, and a check will be in the mail (and it better be in the damn mail and it better be for $266 because I have a phone, and I am not afraid to use it).  AND, I ported my number over to the Heaven phone.  In 24 hours, I will be whole again...I hope.

Now I should do my taxes, and clean my house, and do my dishes, and change my flat tire, and vacuum, and brush my teeth, and maybe I should get a cookie...oh, and I have some work to do as well.

It never ends.

...and in case you were wondering. I didn’t change any of the names in this story to protect the innocent.  Their names really were Passion and Omega.  Awesome.

Even the Universe Knows I'm Out of Shape!

Big news.  Huge news.  Colossal news.

That triathlon that I signed up for in January because I wanted to get into shape and find a renewed passion for physical fitness; you know, the one that I haven’t really been training for?

It got cancelled.

I know.  It was symbolic.  It was on my birthday.  I thought that might help me do a little better.  It was the same course as the very last triathlon I did a few years ago.  It was going to be a transcendental experience for me.

Alas, it simply wasn’t meant to be.  I just got an email from the race director regretfully informing me that the race will not happen in less than two days.  They apologized profusely to all of the athletes that trained so hard for the event.  They certainly weren’t talking to me. 

I have to admit, I’ve been feeling a little nervous about the race.  I’m totally out of shape right now.  Of course, I do have a much more difficult race coming up in a month, and I really need to hunker down and something about it (while also guiding tourists through the California wine country).  But, I’m pretty relieved that I don’t have to change the back tire on my bike before Saturday morning.

Birthday miracles DO happen!

So, I just have this to say....

Don’t cry for me Argentina.  The truth is I haven’t been training.  I like to watch TV, and sit and eat at Sparky’s.  I can’t start racing, until I quit flaking.

*sigh*

I wonder if I should get a cookie.  You know, treat myself for a hard day’s work..