actuality.log


Friday, September the 26th, 2003

Fridays are usually quite good. Good in the sense of less stressful. In the sense of less work. Which vaguely correlates to reduced courseload, and proximity to the weekend to figure out stuff related to research.

Today wasn’t very good. With the evil roomies leaving, and some services being under their names, like power, it was time to fix all that. So got them to cancel things so I could restart under my name. A couple of phone calls and you’re all set right?

In an ideal world, probably. In mine, no. Oh, we’re sorry, we need you to have a driver’s license for us to give you power. Other id isn’t good enough for us. Yes, because I have to physically drive up there in a truck to pick up my batteries and cylinders or whatever of gas.

Ok, so what do I need to do? You will need to stop by at our office and show us your papers in person. And she hastily gives me some address. I have to remind me to imagine an annoying nasal voice telling me this.

What she fails to mention is the place is in a neighbouring city. Did it occur to her I might not have a license because I don’t drive and hence can’t travel too far too easily? Then again, every small place here gets called a city, so that is not saying much. So, I download a bunch of maps, head over to some information desk, steal a bunch of bus schedules, and attempt all forms of superimposition before I figure out what bus to take, and where to take it from.

I am so bad with directions, it could be a disease.

Anyway, somethings have to be done. Actually, without too much difficulty, or time loss, I find this place. Really, it was quite simple. Once I’m there, I notice I am the only under 50 year old non-African American. And am the only one not paying a bill. This isn’t such a big deal, but I wonder how an entire group of people didn’t know that their bills could be payed without actually showing up in person.

In a little while, I get to meet this representative dude. Who goes through the stuff, and punches in the details into the computer. And EVERYTHING autocompletes before he finishes. They HAD everything I could show, the fools. The computer now decides I haven’t yet been “positively ID’d” and goes on to some schpeel about probable misrepresentation or some such nonsense.

Yes, I will ACTIVELY GO THERE AND DECIDE TO PAY THE BILLS FOR SOMEONE ELSE. Yes, I have the “irresistible philanthropy” disorder. As I start explaining all this to the guy, he gets it and everything is fixed. Like finally, I get back home.

In all this “excitement”, I’ve missed lunch, and it’s time for dinner. As I’m walking up to the sandwich place, I run into the famous “crazy lady who crosses like a maniac because near death experiences are quite normal for her”, again. This time I pretty much run to get ahead of her, and hit the cross button and wait. I blocked her from crossing. Not physically block block. But there is something about a younger person waiting, she HAD to wait, because… she HAD to. And it worked, and I’ve done my teeny deed for today.

Walk past my “non” hair dressers. Where I get my hair “not” cut. I’ve been here over a year and I’ve been there ONCE. The people there probably see me, but today one of them was out having a smoke and was all “hey, how’re you?” and all that. Yeah right lady, like you care. But I couldn’t say it. I just had to go through the average kind of annoying dialogue with stupid humour and more references to the weather than I am comfortable with.

Making a not entirely rude getaway, I get food. Now I’m beginning to miss this one person who KNOWS what I want. I’d walk in, and something which I like, within my reasonable choices would be magically ready and she’d give me discounts and so on because she realized I was a regular, and I liked being treated like one. I just realize I don’t even know her name. Need to fix that.

Now that regular sem’s on, she isn’t there as often, and things like today happen. Finish eating, and as I’m leaving the other lady comes up to the “veggie guy” and gives me “my” wallet which I “lost”. I was impressed and embarrassed and all that. But I thank her and take it, and leave. Resisting the urge to check the contents in front of her. Trallalllaaaa.. walking along, I place my hands in my pockets, to find TWO wallets, that look reasonably similar.

Open one, it’s some *SEA’s wallet. So I walk back and give it back to her. Another employee from the back goes, see I told you he doesn’t look like the guy in the photo. Good lord. This brainy soul’s blind. Good hearted, but blind. She SAW the pic of the SEA AND followed me to return it.

I know I’m being mean but.. sheesh. I guess this is why I miss the other girl who seemingly “knows” me.

*SEA – South East Asian

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