Worst Monday Ever
So, here's the story:
Once again, my immune system startles me by not being able to fend off a cold ... in Florida. Way to go body. What, do I not eat enough vitamins and get enough exercise for you?
So, this past Monday I was having a shitty day, not feeling well and just dragging on. I left work early to head home and rest, and what do I see? Some strange pink-slip on my doorknob. Pink is usually a good color in my dictionary, but I got closer and noticed the word 'disconnected' on it.
My power was shut off.
On top of that it said I owed 90 dollars - which I didn't understand at the time cause I had only been there a few weeks, no way I consumed that many KHz. So I frantically look over the slip to find a number to call.
No fucking number ...
All I get is a ton of locations to go to broken down by city. For the record, the prospect of having to get back in my car and drive around in a feverish haze did NOT excite me.
Luckily, it seemed that the closest office was pretty damn close. It said 1 West Hillsboro. I passed the area where it should have been and noticed a very unlikely building in the vicinity. I reasoned that maybe I had to drive down further, seeing as how you can't get much more East on the road than where I am, and if I go further West, maybe the numbers will reset.
Wrong.
Driving awkwardly and slowly, peering at building to find numbers the entire time, I reach the area of the 5000's before I decide to pull an enraged U-turn out of nowhere and return to the unlikely building for a closer inspection. At this point, it dawns on me to call my coworker. I call Deanna, have her look up the number to the restaurant, and call her. This is necessary because she NEVER answers her cell phone.
I call Jen, and ask as politely as I possibly can at the time if she has any idea why our power would be off. I ask if she even checked the mail while I was gone - she did not, she even further claimed to not even have the mailbox key. This came as a shock to me, because I assumed she would have received it while I was gone. Furthermore, I had no reason to check the mail at all, seeing as how I told the Power company to send my bills via email. This adds a whole new element to this developing catastrophe.
Jen tells me to calm down and that she will call our landlord to try and get some answers as to why the bill was so high (maybe her balance transferred since we just did a name change on the account), and to ask about the key. She did not trust me with such a call.
I barrell down the expressway to the strange building. "The Check Cashing Store.". No fucking way this is the place. I check the pink slip for the next closest location. I continue driving. I rehearse how I plan to bitch these people out in my head, pointing to the slip and describing how their stores don't even exist. Anger rises, headache worsens.
I near the next location. As I close in on it, I notice a strange pattern of barricades in the middle lane. Strange, why is the middle lane barricaded? I don't think much of this logistical phenomenon, and keep driving. I approach an intersection which is no more than 50 yards from where I need to be. It's CLOSED OFF. Barricades everywhere.
There is NO detour sign.
I turn around and squeal through the barricade slalom and make a left at the next intersection, hoping to find a way around the unexplained barricade. This leads me into a decrepit neighborhood of small, dirty, typical floridian homes. The kind with the spanish, adobe style, architecture. It's a maze. A maze of dead-ends. This neighborhood is surrounded by marshes. I let out screams of fury and throw my fists wildly at the air. I find my way back out by following a similarly lost cargo truck. I get back to the intersection and go straight through, going the other way.
Traffic, EVERYWHERE.
I knew I was going the right way, but it had the wrong effect on me. I was backed up in the ooze for about 20 more minutes. At this point I called Deanna because I needed someone to calm me down. Silent rage was the name of the game.
I finally pull out of the mess and exit to the other side of the barricade. As I approach the intersection, I notice to my left, exactly in the area where my next location would be, another Check Cashing Store.
You have to be fucking kidding me.
This is some wild coincidence, I tell myself. There is no possible way this is the address. There is no number on the building, so I keep driving. Not even a mile down the road and I realize I went too far. I drive to the Check Cashing Store and enter with intent on demanding where the Power company is, and why they are stealing their addresses!
Then I notice above the service counter, a sign: "FPL customers, bay your bills and reconnect your service here".
You can practically smell the ash of flames on my breath.
If you are going to give someone addresses of what is supposedly your place of business, but only an agent through which you receive payment, you would do good to MAKE A FUCKING POINT OF THAT!!!!
I sit in line for 20 minutes. I am surrounded by crack heads, derelicts, hobos. People who do odd jobs for odd people and that don't have bank accounts. I am terribly out of place - I can feel their dirty eyes all over me. I am noticeably uncomfortable.
When I get to the service counter I flash the slip, and she gives me another to fill out. I do so, and present my credit card for payment. She then looks at me and says - "cash or money order only".
I think my proceeding gaze turned her to stone because she said nothing at all when I followed up with: "what kind of payment establishment does NOT offer the most common, convenient, and efficient method of pay?!!? as I crumpled up the slip and tossed it, and the pen, over the counter and stormed out.
I get in my car and call my landlord. I am driving home. I muster all the energy I have to remain composed while I probe her for answers. Her account was clean upon transfer, she gave the mailbox key to jen - enough said, I hang up.
The key is home, in the envelope, unopened and forgetten by my roomate.
WONDERFUL!
I march from my car to my kitchenette like a blood-thirsty soldier. Part of me knows that there is something I do not want to see in my mailbox. I find the key, go to the mail, and warning notices spill out onto me. My vision blurs with anger.
I asked for fucking email bills.
It's dark now, so I have to read these bills under the lights of the walkway outside of my apartment. I call the power service and demand to know why I owe 90 dollars, and why I didnt receive this notice via email. His answers were deposit and 'I don't know' respectively. To which my answers were 'I was never told of a deposit' and 'your customer service team are dipshits', respectively.
I pay the bill over the phone - but since I took all the time running all over the town for no goddamn reason, it was too late to get my power back that day. My face pulsates with sickly heat.
I enter my dark, warm, apartment using my cell as a flashlight. Pee - all over the toilet seat. Step on the cat. Shower by candlelight (which was rather relaxing), cough up a green blob, and pass out - stuck to my muggy sheets.
Worst Monday Ever.
Once again, my immune system startles me by not being able to fend off a cold ... in Florida. Way to go body. What, do I not eat enough vitamins and get enough exercise for you?
So, this past Monday I was having a shitty day, not feeling well and just dragging on. I left work early to head home and rest, and what do I see? Some strange pink-slip on my doorknob. Pink is usually a good color in my dictionary, but I got closer and noticed the word 'disconnected' on it.
My power was shut off.
On top of that it said I owed 90 dollars - which I didn't understand at the time cause I had only been there a few weeks, no way I consumed that many KHz. So I frantically look over the slip to find a number to call.
No fucking number ...
All I get is a ton of locations to go to broken down by city. For the record, the prospect of having to get back in my car and drive around in a feverish haze did NOT excite me.
Luckily, it seemed that the closest office was pretty damn close. It said 1 West Hillsboro. I passed the area where it should have been and noticed a very unlikely building in the vicinity. I reasoned that maybe I had to drive down further, seeing as how you can't get much more East on the road than where I am, and if I go further West, maybe the numbers will reset.
Wrong.
Driving awkwardly and slowly, peering at building to find numbers the entire time, I reach the area of the 5000's before I decide to pull an enraged U-turn out of nowhere and return to the unlikely building for a closer inspection. At this point, it dawns on me to call my coworker. I call Deanna, have her look up the number to the restaurant, and call her. This is necessary because she NEVER answers her cell phone.
I call Jen, and ask as politely as I possibly can at the time if she has any idea why our power would be off. I ask if she even checked the mail while I was gone - she did not, she even further claimed to not even have the mailbox key. This came as a shock to me, because I assumed she would have received it while I was gone. Furthermore, I had no reason to check the mail at all, seeing as how I told the Power company to send my bills via email. This adds a whole new element to this developing catastrophe.
Jen tells me to calm down and that she will call our landlord to try and get some answers as to why the bill was so high (maybe her balance transferred since we just did a name change on the account), and to ask about the key. She did not trust me with such a call.
I barrell down the expressway to the strange building. "The Check Cashing Store.". No fucking way this is the place. I check the pink slip for the next closest location. I continue driving. I rehearse how I plan to bitch these people out in my head, pointing to the slip and describing how their stores don't even exist. Anger rises, headache worsens.
I near the next location. As I close in on it, I notice a strange pattern of barricades in the middle lane. Strange, why is the middle lane barricaded? I don't think much of this logistical phenomenon, and keep driving. I approach an intersection which is no more than 50 yards from where I need to be. It's CLOSED OFF. Barricades everywhere.
There is NO detour sign.
I turn around and squeal through the barricade slalom and make a left at the next intersection, hoping to find a way around the unexplained barricade. This leads me into a decrepit neighborhood of small, dirty, typical floridian homes. The kind with the spanish, adobe style, architecture. It's a maze. A maze of dead-ends. This neighborhood is surrounded by marshes. I let out screams of fury and throw my fists wildly at the air. I find my way back out by following a similarly lost cargo truck. I get back to the intersection and go straight through, going the other way.
Traffic, EVERYWHERE.
I knew I was going the right way, but it had the wrong effect on me. I was backed up in the ooze for about 20 more minutes. At this point I called Deanna because I needed someone to calm me down. Silent rage was the name of the game.
I finally pull out of the mess and exit to the other side of the barricade. As I approach the intersection, I notice to my left, exactly in the area where my next location would be, another Check Cashing Store.
You have to be fucking kidding me.
This is some wild coincidence, I tell myself. There is no possible way this is the address. There is no number on the building, so I keep driving. Not even a mile down the road and I realize I went too far. I drive to the Check Cashing Store and enter with intent on demanding where the Power company is, and why they are stealing their addresses!
Then I notice above the service counter, a sign: "FPL customers, bay your bills and reconnect your service here".
You can practically smell the ash of flames on my breath.
If you are going to give someone addresses of what is supposedly your place of business, but only an agent through which you receive payment, you would do good to MAKE A FUCKING POINT OF THAT!!!!
I sit in line for 20 minutes. I am surrounded by crack heads, derelicts, hobos. People who do odd jobs for odd people and that don't have bank accounts. I am terribly out of place - I can feel their dirty eyes all over me. I am noticeably uncomfortable.
When I get to the service counter I flash the slip, and she gives me another to fill out. I do so, and present my credit card for payment. She then looks at me and says - "cash or money order only".
I think my proceeding gaze turned her to stone because she said nothing at all when I followed up with: "what kind of payment establishment does NOT offer the most common, convenient, and efficient method of pay?!!? as I crumpled up the slip and tossed it, and the pen, over the counter and stormed out.
I get in my car and call my landlord. I am driving home. I muster all the energy I have to remain composed while I probe her for answers. Her account was clean upon transfer, she gave the mailbox key to jen - enough said, I hang up.
The key is home, in the envelope, unopened and forgetten by my roomate.
WONDERFUL!
I march from my car to my kitchenette like a blood-thirsty soldier. Part of me knows that there is something I do not want to see in my mailbox. I find the key, go to the mail, and warning notices spill out onto me. My vision blurs with anger.
I asked for fucking email bills.
It's dark now, so I have to read these bills under the lights of the walkway outside of my apartment. I call the power service and demand to know why I owe 90 dollars, and why I didnt receive this notice via email. His answers were deposit and 'I don't know' respectively. To which my answers were 'I was never told of a deposit' and 'your customer service team are dipshits', respectively.
I pay the bill over the phone - but since I took all the time running all over the town for no goddamn reason, it was too late to get my power back that day. My face pulsates with sickly heat.
I enter my dark, warm, apartment using my cell as a flashlight. Pee - all over the toilet seat. Step on the cat. Shower by candlelight (which was rather relaxing), cough up a green blob, and pass out - stuck to my muggy sheets.
Worst Monday Ever.