When Wanda and I go out together I ride and she drives. I'm like the family dog that gets to go out once in awhile. I pant but don't stick my head out the window, possible decapitation you know.
My car runs well but has so many strange little issues I hate driving unless absolutely necessary. It's 22-years-old and has around 115,000 miles on it, pretty low considering its age.
The car has always been parked in the sun. The paint's faded and non existent in spots. The seat material is starting to rot. When I hit a bump or pot hole the radio volume goes from low to my ears are bleeding. The dashboard area at the front window is coming up and the drivers window doesn't go down, unless you want it down, then it won't come up. And the plastic 'runner' that holds the headliner up around the drivers door is duct taped up. Every three weeks or so it needs fresh tape. When Nick turned 16 I offered him the car, he declined.
Recently I've come to realize I must be very frustrating to live with. I have a terrible habit of telling a 'story' before I get to the point. I don't know why this is? Something in my early psychological make-up pushed me in this direction. Maybe I bypassed one of Piaget's cognitive stages of development? I've always done this and I'm not going into therapy to find out why.
I had to call Starbucks this morning and decided to put my newly found awareness to the test. I was determined to make this phone call different.
Here's what happened. I have a Starbucks Gold Card. It's a reward for spending a small fortune on coffee drinks. I get a gold star (I just realized the implications of 'gold star') for each transaction when I use the card. Twelve gold stars earns a 'free' drink. When we got to the store I had to pee (even before the coffee) so Wanda took my card. She asked the barista to add $20 to my gold card (from our Visa card). Then charge off the pound of coffee, $14.95 to my gold card. The barista screwed it up. She put $20 on my gold card AND charged the $14.95 to our credit card. I didn't get my star and we didn't notice it until yesterday.
Old Chuck would have told the story first and asked for an adjustment (gold star). But new Chuck called and Michael answered, "How can I help you?" "I'll get right to the point," I said. "If I tell you what happened and you agree with me after only hearing my side of the story, can you add a star to my account?" That was the new me. Why go through the entire scenario if he couldn't do it. "I don't need to hear anything, he said. I'll just add one now."
I'm never going to do that again. I felt cheated. I had this great story and he didn't need to hear it. If I start communicating like that I'll have too much free time on my hands. And while I'm on the subject of time.
A couple of years ago I needed a crown on a left upper tooth. Having work done is not a problem. I just hate going on general principal. The office is about 15 miles (each way) and I have to drive my car. A crown is two visits. The prep work and a week later the seat. The dentist fits it without the adhesive first. "There's a bit of a gap between it and the next tooth," he says. I can wait while they take it to the lab for an adjustment. Or, I can come back tomorrow. Or, he will put it on as is.
I didn't want to wait, or come back. I didn't want to spend one more minute than I had to. "It shouldn't be a problem? I ask. Go ahead and put it on."
Over the past two years I bet I've spent an entire day flossing crap out of that gap. I've gotten incredibly adept at tonguing pineapple strings, apple mush, and lettuce out of it. Every frigging thing I eat gets jammed up between that crown and the next tooth. Blackberry seeds are especially annoying, pita chip slivers are maddening. I could chew on my right side and avoid the problem but we paid good money for that crown, and I'm going to use it.
I was asked for a review when I finished a Kindle book last night. When I get books free I'll write reviews. I read them but they rarely influence me. No matter the item, a few people love it, a few hate it and the majority have favorable comments.
Dealing with the World Wide Web and all the social websites requires a very different way of communicating. Obviously, there is no way (aside from cute little emoticons) to convey sarcasm and other speech patterns. Non verbal (or written) communication can be easily misinterpreted. I try to avoid anything that can be mistaken as hurtful or controversial. I don't understand why people don't think more before they write? What's the written equivalent of putting your foot in your mouth? Shoving your fist in?
A pet peeve of mine are off topic contributors that have their own agenda. I watched a video and slide show about cat behavior. A true cat owner knows who runs the house and it's not those of us with two legs. I think it's fair to say we're all slightly nuts. Cat owners love to watch, talk, and write about their furry buddies. So here's this cute presentation that has hundreds of comments from cat lovers. Many add to the enjoyment of the piece. Then, out of the blue, someone writes; You know what you look like to me, with your good bag, and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube.
The next comment is not about cats but an admonishment of the last comment. I'm paraphrasing.
How could you write something so hurtful? You don't know the person that originally posted the pictures. You're mean spirited and have no business here.
I agree (the next person) that was uncalled for.
(and the next) What's a rube?
I had to look it up, it's like a country bumpkin (wrote the next)
What's a bumpkin?
Finally someone recognized the rube quote from "Silence of the Lambs." The name of the contributor just above it was Clarice Starling, the name of a character in the movie. And with that the comments denigrated into name calling and threats. It started out about cats! Some people just like to hear (and see) themselves talk.
Another example: My cat does the same thing. She makes me put more food in her dish. And the next comment: What? Does your cat have a revolver?
What's my point? I don't know for sure. Maybe it would be a slightly nicer web if we all thought a little more before we wrote. Once it's out there you can't take it back.
I post on two cruise message boards daily. Sometime I have lots to write and other times, it's just a hello. A friend wrote she just had a check-up and got a clean bill of health. Except, and this was odd, she was shrinking. When she first met her husband she was three and a half inches taller.
I wrote, Remember, I was a nurse. The only thing I know of that shrinks 3 1/2 inches is an old guys pecker.
Think it was too much?
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