Interesting precursors
Ripley: You are my lucky star... Lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky.
-- Alien
This weekend I decided to do some landscaping around Casa de Juan - the outside that is. As I was poking around with my shovel, deciding what I was going to do and where (actually I was trying to convence myself I hadn't taken on more than I wanted to chew) Thing Two starts hoping around pointing feverishly at the gound squeeking something about a bird. I look in the direction his furry little mitt is pointing and I see a brand new, gray, fuzzy chiklet with its bright yellow (and abnormallay large - I mean seriously, this thing was huge, like it could have swallowed itself. Maybe that's how it got on the ground) mouth open expecting an offering of some sort of regurjitated worm mess I'm sure. "Holy crap!" I exclaim, "Its a mutant alien-demon-thing sent to take over our planet!" Thing One was not impressed but approached with caution. Not knowing what to do I order Thing's One and Two not to get too close because mutant alien-demon-things that young cannot control their eye beam powers too well I was simply not in the mood to be picking Thing bits out of the grass. They actually listened this time.
Well, I knew exactly what needed to be done at this point, I needed to bash it with my shovel, burry it as deep as possible, and force Thing One and Two in to silence. But M found on the Internet that you should craddle it in your hands to keep it warm, find the nest and put it back. "Damn her and this 'Internet' thing! Damn you Al Gore! Damn you all to hell!" I cursed as I slowly lowered the shovel from above my head.
While the tree I suspect it fell from is against my hose (I actually think it might have bounced off my roof before it hit the ground, which would explain why it wasn't viciously attacking any of us; being dazed and all) I don't have a ladder tall enough to get me there. So I used the truck. Yes, I am White Trash. Both of my immediate neighbors have ladders and would have been more than willing to loan theirs to me, but I wanted to practice my Mad Ninja Skillz and triangle hop from wall to truck to roof (narrowly avoiding the back window of the truck and the window to my weight room). That was the plan anyway. The way it went was only slightly different: I climbed up like a little girl being prodded by her older borthers to make an ass out of myself. I called but my mom didn't hear me so I just followed through.
You see, if not for this little fella's plight, I would not have discovered a number of soft spots in my roof. That's right, soft spots. The roof isn't, as far as I know, supposed to be squishy when you step on it. I had M stand where she felt a certain wall in my house was, then I had her stand further out in the yard so I could actually see her. It would appear that a leak has developed over a wall that I have been having some wiring problems with for a couple of weeks. This is just not good news. But, once again, if not for the rescue efforts of Team 'Merica, this would have gone too far and more damage would have been done.
To wrap up the unfortunate tale of the fallen bird, I fixed the nest it fell out of and stuck it back in there with its sibling still in there.
Fast forward to this morning. I call my Mortgage company and this is how the automated system goes:
APS: Thank you for calling blah blah blah please enter your account number and press pound when you are done.
Me: Go to hell. I press pound
APS: That was not a valid account number, if you do not have a valid account number, we cannot help you in a timely manner, please enter your correct account number
Me: Like I would enter an incorrect account number. Press pound again.
APS: Without an account number, we cannot garauntee that your call will be routed to the correct service representative, please enter your account number - this time, the recording was getting snippy with me
Me:Pound pound pound
APS: Fine, wait then
This cool guy almost immediately comes on the line and I get my insurance policy number and their contact information and I call them. That wasn't so bad, good thing I called first thing this morning.
APS: Thank you for calling blah blah blah, please enter your policy number and press pound
Me: OK, I'll bite, tickety tickety tick
APS: If you would like instructions in English, press one...
Me: WHA?
APS: ... our volume today is light, your hold time should be less than 10 minutes...
Me: HUH?
After navigating their menu system, eventually, it says my call has been redirected to the claims department and I wait. Then a voice mail picks up saying I should leave a message. CLICK
Round two. This time a pleasant sounding woman comes on the line, "Can I have your policy number please?" I decide not to fight it and give it to her. "Your name," she continues; "... address," HOLD THE PHONE!!! When you give some one your account number, shouldn't they have all your information displayed before them on that magical machine of theirs? Is the clickety clack in the background a recording or is she actually typing into a computer? Why should she be required to enter all of this data? Who wrote the stupid program that she is using, that is obviously not connected to the automated phone system, that does not have a connection to the database holding my information as it relates to my account number?!?! But no, I don't fight it, I succumb, I give here all the info. Now, I might hear from an adjuster within the next few days.
posted by Bang Zap Boom @ 10:07 AM
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