It’s snowing words…everywhere.
It’s actually worse than the wet, cold stuff we’ve all
gotten so used to, this year.
This particular snow can’t be shoveled fast enough…except by
the person who is shoveling it on top of you.
I’m talking about the runaround people give you when they’re
trying to avoid discussing an issue.
No issue in particular…pick one…any one.
If they don’t want to discuss it or simply don’t have a
cogent reply at hand…out comes the snow.
Piles and piles of snow on top of snow pile after snow
pile….
You might have a different name for it.
But I think I’ll stick with snow.
I’ll start with lawyers, because in any discussion of this
particular brand of snow that’s the first thing that pops into my head.
That and a pair of hip boots, because attorneys can pile it
pretty deep.
Last year I spent a great amount of time dealing with a
lawyer.
No…it had nothing to do with that incident with the cube
steak and the Chihuahua.
This was about something else, altogether, concerning heady
financial matters, and if you know me at all…you know that would have nothing
to do with me, personally.
Anyway, if the lawyer, or more precisely, the lawyer’s
paralegal who actually does 99% of the lawyering, without the credit, much
less the money, called me and requested documents and or any sort of
information, including my list of currently owned pre-Sgt. Pepper Beatle
albums, in order of preference—which, to be honest, I found odd, because how do
you not include Sgt. Pepper in that request—I would immediately drop what I
was doing…napping is way over rated anyway—scan the requested items and instantly
return e-mail the documents.
Then I would wait…and wait… and wait…and wait…sometimes for
days…and not hear anything back… from a-n-y-b-od-y…..
But I was cool with that, I figured they were busy, you
know, getting someone off for murder or something…or possibly saving some poor endangered
species from extinction.
So I would wait about another 6 weeks or so, or at least
until I brought all the crops in for the fall, and still nothing.
Finally, I would send a gentle little e-mail wondering what
the status was.
Which would be followed by about 2 dozen return e-mails,
apologizing for the delay, detailing the many reasons it couldn’t be avoided,
along with a “rough” “tentative” time frame of things to expect down the road…as
soon as I sent back the completed documents and forms they requested…which I
had already returned 6 weeks previous and after the crops…including the list of
Beatle albums.
When I would then politely respond that all of the requested
material had indeed been returned weeks ago, and I had been patiently waiting
for a response as to what the next steps were, I was told that of course they
received the material and reviewed it all—twice—but were still trying to decide
whether or not they should include Sgt. Pepper.
Ahhhhhhhhhh…I see.
Once all that was cleared up and I dug myself out of the
snow pile, I would then move on to call the big important investment company
that had asked me to “FAX”— because most
of these places are still stuck in the 90’s when it comes to proprietary
technology— several of the legal documents in question, along with several
signed releases, or whatever it is big important investment companies require
you to send, which the big important investment company’s astute Customer
Service Representative told me would be handled, post haste...because, let’s
face it, nobody likes to do anything pre-haste, because there’s always a chance
you could ruin the whole hasting experience by doing so.
Of course, once again, after waiting another 6 weeks and
plowing the fields in order to plant next year’s crops, I still haven’t gotten
any confirmation that my request had been granted or even received.
And, as before, I was cool with that, as well. These things take
time, especially if you’re busy looking to find a way to take money from one
account in order to pay another, without yet another account noticing that
their Annuity Fund is now being calculated in penny denominations.
But, really…that’s on me. I guess I should have known that the
WWBD on their business cards stood for …”What Would Bernie Do?”
So finally…again…I make a call and once again maneuver my
way through the 90 minute maze of Convenient Automated Customer Service
“Options” until I finally get to speak to a “real live” person.
So what if it was Hillary, the lady emptying out the office
waste baskets…it was a person… a “real live” person.
Of course Hillary is just as flummoxed as I am about the
whole situation and tells me she doesn’t know why anyone would have told me to
fill out the XK-246-B-R forms, when my situation clearly called for the
JHT-753-H short forms.
So Hillary, being the competent office wastebasket emptier
that she is, sends me the proper forms and tells me to avoid the office fax
machine, because it’s just too swamped and wisely advises that I send all my
account information to hear private home Fax, which is less swamped.
So I did, and this time I only had to wait 3 weeks before I
called to see what the deal was, which again was met with confusion and an
absolute lack of knowledge about my situation.
They didn’t even know if a Hillary worked there or not.
Believe me I can’t make this stuff up…too much.
But I’m not that concerned, I’m pretty sure Hillary
is on top of things because last time I checked all of my money had been moved
out of the account.
So she must be working on something.
Who am I to question what?
So once that’s under control I have to call the credit card
company…again…and get another run around from them as to why I’m getting all
these charges from that resort in Costa Rica…
Just one more snow pile of words …piles and piles of snow on
top of snow pile after snow pile….
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Find another lawyer to give the first one a hotfoot. Remember hotfoots?
ReplyDeleteOnly on the Little Rascals. How much do you suppose a lawyer charges for a hot foot, these days. Do they charge by the toe...or is it a flat foot fee?
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