Nothing will break me today!
Ok, so I'd written a pretty good and long update, and then my application "unexpectedly quit." How, exactly, do they mean unexpectedly? Surely it's unexpected to us, but the computer knew. Why didn't it say "hey, gotta burp, you're gonna lose what you're working on!" Even a simple "Watch out!" would suffice.
Anyway, last night I hung out with Barron. We went to Melton's App & Tap (if you ever visit me in Atlanta, you will be eating there at some point. It's my favorite Atlanta restaurant.) We were both so tired though, that we only watched about 20 minutes of "Batman Begins." I've still never seen it, and that little bastard has seen it FIVE TIMES!!!! Anyway, that's old pain. Bygones.
So let me tell you about getting the letter from Edel on Thursday. You pretty much have to send your mail registered. That way, you can track it, and if it never gets there, they can tell you where the fuck-up was. So, he wrote me a letter and sent it on January 5. I came back from the dentist's office, (and I still can't explain why I did this) I checked the mailbox, KNOWING that the mail truck doesn't come until after 3 or 4. There was an orange slip telling me that I had a registered letter from "Varona" that would be back at the post office after 1:30. It was about 1:45, so I got back in my car and drove back to the post office. HUGE long line, so I waited my turn and must have gotten the sourest employee they had that day in the College Park Post Office. I don't know her name, or I'd have written a letter. Anyway, she took my orange slip and my license and started towards the back, turned around, and told me that truck wasn't back yet.
"What do you mean, it's not back yet," I stupidly asked.
"That truck doesn't get back until later. Your letter won't be here."
"When will it be here? That's a letter I'm really anxious to get, and they seemed to think it would be here at 1:30."
"I can't tell you when it will get here, sir. Sometimes they're not back until after 5."
"So how can I get this? Can I sign this and have them leave it for me?" I said.
"Oh, no, sir," she said like I'd asked her to commit treason. "That's the most secure way we have of sending mail. They'll get in trouble if they do that."
I was BEYOND furious at this point. "So, what, I have to take off work tomorrow to get this because your mail carriers can't be truthful? Can you just go check?"
"It won't be here," she said again.
"Fine. Give me my license back." I turned around and walked out. I then went to Wal-Mart and picked up a toilet seat and new handles for my shower, and said "I shall not be abused by such a woman as her!" I went back to the Post Office, got another worker, she went in the back and came back with my letter.
I could have crawled across the counter and slaughtered that first clerk.
Anyway, last night I hung out with Barron. We went to Melton's App & Tap (if you ever visit me in Atlanta, you will be eating there at some point. It's my favorite Atlanta restaurant.) We were both so tired though, that we only watched about 20 minutes of "Batman Begins." I've still never seen it, and that little bastard has seen it FIVE TIMES!!!! Anyway, that's old pain. Bygones.
So let me tell you about getting the letter from Edel on Thursday. You pretty much have to send your mail registered. That way, you can track it, and if it never gets there, they can tell you where the fuck-up was. So, he wrote me a letter and sent it on January 5. I came back from the dentist's office, (and I still can't explain why I did this) I checked the mailbox, KNOWING that the mail truck doesn't come until after 3 or 4. There was an orange slip telling me that I had a registered letter from "Varona" that would be back at the post office after 1:30. It was about 1:45, so I got back in my car and drove back to the post office. HUGE long line, so I waited my turn and must have gotten the sourest employee they had that day in the College Park Post Office. I don't know her name, or I'd have written a letter. Anyway, she took my orange slip and my license and started towards the back, turned around, and told me that truck wasn't back yet.
"What do you mean, it's not back yet," I stupidly asked.
"That truck doesn't get back until later. Your letter won't be here."
"When will it be here? That's a letter I'm really anxious to get, and they seemed to think it would be here at 1:30."
"I can't tell you when it will get here, sir. Sometimes they're not back until after 5."
"So how can I get this? Can I sign this and have them leave it for me?" I said.
"Oh, no, sir," she said like I'd asked her to commit treason. "That's the most secure way we have of sending mail. They'll get in trouble if they do that."
I was BEYOND furious at this point. "So, what, I have to take off work tomorrow to get this because your mail carriers can't be truthful? Can you just go check?"
"It won't be here," she said again.
"Fine. Give me my license back." I turned around and walked out. I then went to Wal-Mart and picked up a toilet seat and new handles for my shower, and said "I shall not be abused by such a woman as her!" I went back to the Post Office, got another worker, she went in the back and came back with my letter.
I could have crawled across the counter and slaughtered that first clerk.