You're Doing It Wrong

Korean Twist lunch. Yes, that is supposed to be a single serving burrito. I only ate half.

I am way behind on my stories but I don’t think anyone wants to read a 2000 word post so I’ll just tell the banking story. And a quick Hannah story.

For at least a month, maybe longer, after I sought help for my neck pain issues I got incomprehensible statements from the clinic and my insurance. The clinic statements say stuff like: ex; prohs, escp, 2 units, prox. et.

Next to each item there are random dollar amounts that were never consistent on any bill.

Then my insurance sends me a statement that says: services billed $371. Our rate: $117.50. Percentage not covered 35.75. You owe: $17.63.

Every time I got a bill I took out all the medical statements and all the insurance reports and I could never figure it out and just paid them all.

Then I got a refund check from the doctor which crossed in the mail with another payment I made from a statement they sent.

Oh, I use billpay. That’s the key part of the story.

After that final payment they returned the billpay check marked VOID to me with a letter telling me they didn’t know why I kept paying since I didn’t owe anything.

Dryer vents on an apartment building in NE Portland.

I took the check to the bank and asked if there was anything I needed to do.

First they told me it wasn’t from their bank and did I have any other bank accounts?

I carefully kept my head from imploding and said I didn’t do billpay with any other banks, it was their check and that’s why I was there.

They said that normally I would just deposit it but since it said VOID there was nothing they could do and I should call the phone number on the check and ask them what to do.

I don’t feel like I can make the whole exchange interesting but understand that it went on a lot longer and the bank people never said anything that made sense. That can’t be the first billpay in history that wasn’t cashed by the recipient. It says right on the check that it’s void after 90 days. I’m guessing in 90 days the money is going to be back in my account but the girl in the bank didn’t seem hopeful. At the conclusion of this, she wanted to know, “Does that help?”

No, why would she even ask that? She wasn’t even a tiny bit helpful.

It’s a small amount that’s already wasted way too much of my time so I’m not going to worry about it.

On Thursday night we got a survey call to quiz me about my recent visit to this branch. Bob was trying to screen the call and I grabbed the receiver out of his hand.

YES! I said, I want to do the customer service survey.

And you’ve heard me moan and groan about this before but customer service questions aren’t designed to let you give feedback on a problem. The questions were like: 5 you agree, 1 you don’t agree, did the teller try to be helpful?

Yes, she was nice and intended to solve my problem but the service she provided was completely worthless. Why wasn’t there a question about that?

And also: is that were we are now? We rate people on the basis of how much they tried?

If the Doctor says he tried to remove your appendix but only managed to take out a wedge of your spleen, are we supposed to say: Yay, you tried. At least you removed something.

Urgh.

And speaking of lame service Hannah came to hang out with us this weekend. Yay.

Amtrak phoned a couple hours before she was supposed to leave to inform her that there was a mudslide on the tracks and no trains were getting through.
Hannah said: Okay. I need to get home. What are my options?
Amtrak said: Maybe we’ll get people through tomorrow.
Hannah said: I have to work tomorrow. I have to get home.
Hand poorly placed over receiver, Amtrak to co-worker: She says she has to get to Seattle.
Amtrak: You could try Greyhound.
Hannah: You don’t have any options?
Amtrak: We’d reimburse your ticket.
Hannah: You’re telling me I have no way to get home tonight. Amtrak isn’t organizing a bus?
Long pause.
Amtrak: Uh, well. We have a bus coming in from California. You might be able to get on it.

We went down there and there was a nice bus and they were loading everyone on it. I wonder if she’ll get a customer service survey.

I went to the dentist yesterday. This is his machine for sterilizing the dental instruments. He said there are more modern ones that are faster but they’re made out of plastic. This thing is going to last forever.

This week, which isn’t even over yet, has been one endless round of two steps forward three steps back. Every time I think I’m getting my crap together something else happens.

I’m not going to bore you with a blow by blow.

The latest is I can’t find my cellphone. I normally know exactly where it is and I almost never use it so it’s perfect that today when I actually need it, I can’t find it. And I didn’t realize it was missing until it was too late to look for it so I’m not sure if it’s just at home in some other-than-usual place or if it’s really lost. It’s an ancient phone and the battery only lasts long enough for a fifteen minute phone call so it’s not a big loss, I just don’t want to deal with getting a phone right now. Plus I came by the Verizon store on my way into work and there were news cameras and a small mob scene. I guess it’s iPhone day.

Remember Toes?

Last weekend it was relatively warm and dry enough to do some yardwork so I ran out there and raked and whacked a bunch of stuff that I never got around to in October.

Toes ran over to say hello and made me pet him and then frolicked around the yard happily while I worked.

Later, I heard more assertive meows and I looked up and this orange cat was frolicking around the yard. He came over and demanded some attention and his nametag said: Oranges. I’ve been calling him Mr. Oranges.

Mr. Oranges is very adorable except that he played this game where he would go through the hedge-fence into the backyard next door. Apparently we are now on the third renter in a row next door who has a large growly dog who runs right up to the hedge fence and snarls menacingly. What the hell? Doesn’t anyone have friendly golden retrievers anymore? Remember I have adult onset fear of dogs. So the dog snarled at Mr. Oranges who scampered back to my yard and I had to scream like a little girl and then slump to the ground and clutch my chest while I tried to catch my breath.

Mr. Oranges did this again about 30 minutes later and I yelled at him. Dumb cat.

Meanwhile, Toes looked on unhappily as Mr. Oranges rubbed our new friendship in his face. (See Toes watching in the distance?) Mr. Oranges jumped around the canoe and played hide-and-seek and was generally unspeakably cute.

I tried to signal Toes that we were still friends and he should come over and claim his spot but he sulked on the other side of the yard.

Later the cats did some minor brawling. By then I was tired of yardwork and my hands were cold plus I’d already filled the debris bin and I was ready to go inside. There’s plenty of room for everybody to poop and that seems to be the main activity of visitor cats so why fight?

I spent half my morning cracking up over this headline.

Another week that turned out busier than I expected. I should have time to catch my breath by Friday afternoon.

Apple store in Amsterdam

A couple weeks ago I found a pair of yoga pants online that I have become obsessed with. I don’t generally become obsessed with wanting things, especially clothes, but I can not stop thinking about these pants. I would link to them except the website is worthless. Remember when I was complaining about worthless restaurant sites? I should have also mentioned clothing sites that don’t let you link directly to a piece of clothing.

How handy is that during the holidays to send someone a URL with a note, “Wouldn’t this teal sweater, size small, look fantastic on me?”

This magical yoga pants site has about 30 tiny thumbnails so I’d have to say, click on the thumbnail down 4 and over 5 and I won’t do it.

Amsterdam

I’ve been wondering if I should get the brown pair with the fold-over waistband or the gray pair with the little blue stitching or the bootcut (!) black pair with the roses on the ass.

I keep telling myself I shouldn’t get these yoga pants. Among the many things I disapprove of for no legitimate reason are schmancy yoga clothes. When I took my first yoga class in ’96 I wore a black leotard that a woman on the other side of town sewed for me and black tights. I looked like a model in a 70’s yoga book. I wore that outfit for at least 7 years.

But these pants look fantastic and they aren’t ridiculously expensive.

I’m a grown-up. I earn money. I can decide whether to spend it on yoga pants, prime rib or electricity.

Indian shop in Amsterdam

But the thing I realized is that I’m not so much obsessed with the yoga pants as I am obsessed about the way they look on the model. I realize that our entire culture of buying shit is based on making people want stuff because fabulous looking people are using it. I don’t think there is enough Brazilian Butt Lift in the world to save me and that that path is just going to lead to disappointment.

I’m going to get them anyway.