Funny about Money

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. ―Edmund Burke

The Strangeness of Everyday Life

Ever think that life gets hilariouser and hilariouser by the day?

Hilariouser: I use that term ironically….

A couple weeks ago, the Mayo sent a snail-mail letter — on a piece of paper, can you imagine? — saying that the address to which the credit union was sending my online bill payments was wrong, and asking if I would please change it.

Well, you can’t get into that feature from your computer. So yesterday morning I drive over to the credit union to ask if one of their tellers would please get into the system and correct the address. Understand: the Mayo’s address is something the CU has in its system; in theory I shouldn’t have to enter it at all. What this seems to suggest is that the CU itself has the wrong address, rather than that somehow five or six years ago I entered the wrong address.

My trusty banker dude, Justin, was promoted two or three months ago, leaving his station empty. So if a teller can’t deal with something, the only staff there who can has been the manager. But when I walked in, lo! There was a NEW LADY sitting at Justin’s desk. And wouldn’tcha know, the teller fobs me off on her.

I explain the situation…and as I’m doing so, realize that this dear soul is as dumb as the day is long. She just barely understands what I’m talking about.

Okay, she’s new on the job….but thank goodness she wasn’t on the job earlier this year, when I was dodging around the PayPal/BofA hassle. She gets on the phone, calls someone, and asks what to do. They tell her to get into my account and then they’ll show her how to change the address. So…instead of calling up my account on her computer the way Justin always did, she goes to the CU’s homepage and asks me to sign in on her computer with my username and password. She hands the keyboard across her desk and asks me to sign in.

What?????? I don’t have my password with me. My computer automatically signs me in, using one of the EIGHTEEN SINGLE-SPACED PAGES OF UNIQUE PASSWORDS that my web adventures have generated over the years. I haven’t the faintest idea what my password is.

So I walk out, having wasted a fair amount of my time driving up there. I’m so flabbergasted by how stupid she is — truly, an amoeba would have more power under the hood — that I’m not even mad as the proverbial cat. She’s so stupid she comes out as funny.

WHY, for godsake, would you put someone as dumb as a cow into a job like that?

So now, I guess, after this I’ll have to pay the Mayo by charging their bills on AMEX. That’s fine, actually…tho’ it’s a little extra hassle, I get a nice kickback from everything I charge on that card.

Onward to Costco…

Speaking of herds of cows… HOLY cow! 😀

Waited until yesterday to make this run, because usually Costco is not very crowded on Wednesday.

I guess that was more or less true, except…the people who were in the store were just freaking weird. I would be walking along in a straight line, obviously headed to a destination, and a ninny would drift into my path and then just stop there, blocking the way. You could see that they could see me…they just didn’t give a shit. Once…okay, I could deal with that. Twice…all right, something’s in the air. But this happened repeatedly! Everyplace I tried to go, there was some chucklehead blocking my way.

Don’t think I’ve ever had that experience there…or anywhere. It was just strange behavior. I was in no hurry, so it wasn’t like I was feeling touchy because I wanted to get going, or like I was setting people off by obviously being anxious to “get there first.”

Swimming Pool Service & Repair sent their guy over to set a pump in the pool and drain the water into the sewer connection. He was the chatty type…I learned a great deal about his life. That was fine: I had nothing else to do, and it was nice to chat with a human for a change.

As the water level dropped, it became ever more evident that the walls are festooned with algae. Honestly, I do NOT know how they’re going to beat that stuff. The problem is the heat in the water resulting from the stupid blue surface, which this guy acknowledged. I suggested we should paint it white (turns out you can paint that stuff). He was horrified. I told him my plan, if we can’t resolve the problem, is to fill in the pool and plant a tree there. Horrified some more. 😀 He believes the problem is chemical balance. I believe the problem is the PebbleSheen surface.

Heh…we’ll soon see who’s right!

Author: funny

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  1. Oh, Giiirrrlllll! Don’t get me started on the strangeness of everyday life! Today’s a day off for me, so decided to drive to a realtor’s office to pick up 2 sets of keys so I can peruse a couple units. I discussed this with a manager by the name of Jimmy the previous week. Get there and Jimmy starts back-pedaling, telling me that a colleague will have to help me once he gets off the phone. So while we’re waiting, I’m told that the application fee is $50 – I’ve never had to pay this fee before and I’m not thrilled to hear it. The apartments I want to look at ain’t fancy enough for THAT, far as I’m concerned.
    So unseen partner finally hangs up, gives Jimmy’s colleague/office manager/whoknows? the info, who then gets on her ‘puter to tell me that she’s just not sure if the unit is empty. They can’t tell if they tenant’s moved out or not!?! Said tenant is called, no answer. Jimmy takes my name/number to call me when they finally learn something. I am NOT holding my breath. Cheap @@@@@@@@@s didn’t even offer me water on a hot afternoon.
    Then I drive to another apartment complex I’d visited 2 weeks prior on the chance that I can finally see an empty, renovated unit. Uh, no, but one tenant is supposed to be moving out this month, not sure if she’s supposed to be out by August 31st. Did I want to see her place while it was still furnished? I’m game, but they can’t get her on the phone. This apartment mgr. had promised me that I’d see an empty unit LAST week. *sigh* No water from her, either.
    The lack of professionalism really frustrated me. Is this standard operating procedure with realtors/apartment managers these days? Do I expect too much? Am I being petty about the water?

  2. Ohhh the memories! When I was in my early teens, after we’d come back from Arabia and had been living in San Francisco for awhile (we lived in Parkmerced — ever looked at places there?), my mother got a bug in her bonnet that we should move to Marin. Or over in that area, East-Bayish. So, for several weekends running she dragged us across the bridge and into what were then the boondocks, more or less. Sort of southern-California-looking suburbs.

    We would go to these places — how she found them, I have no idea…must have seen them advertised in the paper — and present us to the landlady (always a woman). This worthy would then take us to the apartment in question and let us in to inspect the place. They were usually still occupied. I had the impression in those days that a landlord didn’t have to get very special permission to enter one’s apartment. A couple of the places we saw were real pigsties — apparently some people NEVER pick up after themselves.

    What brought on this frenzy to move to Marin County, I do not know. Probably we were coming to the end of a lease, and maybe she wanted to be closer to Rodeo, where we had to pick up my father when his ship docked. Or maybe he was bellyaching about the cost of rent in the City itself…though for cryin’ out loud, he was a Merchant Marine commander: he could afford a two bedroom apartment with free parking.

    But I do remember it was hot in Marin (at least, it seemed so to a San Francisco kid). And nope: no one offered us a drink of water. Or anything.

    For what they’re charging as rent over there these days, they could spare a glass of tap water. For cryin’ out loud! 😮

  3. I’m in Arkansas, so no, never have looked for rentals in Cali. ;o)
    And yeah, these people need to put mini-fridges in their front offices so they can offer people bottled water during the dog days of August. I had to stop by work to learn next week’s schedule and discuss something with the GM, so got a free drink then. Thank Goodness!

    • LOL! Somehow I had the idea you were in in darkest California. Mwa ha ha! It’s never too late to move to Arizona! 🙂

      Back in the day when my mother was traipsing around the East Bay, we didn’t have such a thing as bottled water. But f’r hevvinsake, these days — in Arkansas! — the least they could have done was offer you a plastic bottle of Walmart’s Finest.

      It sounds like either these places practically rent themselves, or the company’s employees just don’t care.

      Wow! The rental rates in Little Rock are about half the rates in the East Bay. And the places look approximately ten times nicer.