A series of unfortunate events.
My first customer of the day gave me hell about asking for identification. He wanted an official check for $500 and present his own check to be used as payment. I asked him for his debit card, which is our preferred form of ID. He went off, "You have my own check, why do you need my debit card?! You can either use my debit card or check, but you don't need both!" So I replied with our spiel, "Sir, your debit card is the most secure form of ID... yada yada yada." He continued on his high horse and yelling at me, then once he was finally out of words, he just stood there and glared.
A little while later I had the pleasure of selling $25,000 worth of travelers cheques to this tight lipped woman and her diva of a daughter. She wouldn't explain why she needed the checks and answer my questions with glares. Then of course, every possible thing that could go wrong, went wrong. The denominations of the checks were too large to process like normal, it took verification forever to approve the transaction, and the whole thing took over an hour.
Then a man collapsed and hit his head in the door way of the bank.
And a drive thru tube got stolen. Then one got stuck.
In rehearsal, the lighting people wouldn't turn down their obnoxiously loud music and flicked off the girl who was sent down to ask them to turn it down. My normally jovial stage manager was calling them bastards, dicks, fuckers under his breath after having gone down for a third time to ask them to turn it down.
On the way home a homeless man who was casually strolling across the street NOT in the cross walk, NOT in a straightline, had the gall to flick me off as I approached him with my car. Of course I wouldn't have actually hit him, but I'll be damned if I didn't wish I could.
When I went to walgreens to pick up my prescription it took forever, because of the crazy people in line, in front of me and all their problems. I think I need to get over my fear of using the drive thru. I always go inside.
Finally, I got home only to find out that my mom's transmission blew on 275 and it would be the cost of a small car to replace it.
BUT, there is a chick-fil-a now open across from Poynter, which means down the street from American Stage. So all is good. :)
A little while later I had the pleasure of selling $25,000 worth of travelers cheques to this tight lipped woman and her diva of a daughter. She wouldn't explain why she needed the checks and answer my questions with glares. Then of course, every possible thing that could go wrong, went wrong. The denominations of the checks were too large to process like normal, it took verification forever to approve the transaction, and the whole thing took over an hour.
Then a man collapsed and hit his head in the door way of the bank.
And a drive thru tube got stolen. Then one got stuck.
In rehearsal, the lighting people wouldn't turn down their obnoxiously loud music and flicked off the girl who was sent down to ask them to turn it down. My normally jovial stage manager was calling them bastards, dicks, fuckers under his breath after having gone down for a third time to ask them to turn it down.
On the way home a homeless man who was casually strolling across the street NOT in the cross walk, NOT in a straightline, had the gall to flick me off as I approached him with my car. Of course I wouldn't have actually hit him, but I'll be damned if I didn't wish I could.
When I went to walgreens to pick up my prescription it took forever, because of the crazy people in line, in front of me and all their problems. I think I need to get over my fear of using the drive thru. I always go inside.
Finally, I got home only to find out that my mom's transmission blew on 275 and it would be the cost of a small car to replace it.
BUT, there is a chick-fil-a now open across from Poynter, which means down the street from American Stage. So all is good. :)