I lost my credit card today. The total panic I felt at this moment was awe-inspiring. My mind filled with a rush of oh-my-god-someone-is-going-to-buy-a-new-cell-phone/car/flat screen-and-Kurt-will-think-it-was-me! The best part about losing your card is that the lost or stolen card number is ON THE BACK OF THE CARD. Fabulous. Then, upon finally tracking down this number, the exactly opposite of a helpline, they ask you for your card number.
"I don't have it, that's why I'm calling. I DON'T HAVE MY CARD."
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I need that number. Let me transfer you..."
40 minutes later (and let's admit it, several breaks to go cry in a corner), they finally have the card cancelled. At this point all I want to do is destroy my phone, return to hand-written letters and generally tell the entire technological society to go screw itself and plant a garden. But no, there is not yet an opening for illogical hatred of all things electronic. Now I must enjoy the dreaded RECORDED MESSAGE.
Why not hang up, you ask? Because I have to confirm with a live person that I heard and understood the lawyer-ass-covering babble. If I do not then I have to start ALL OVER.
I cannot go grocery shopping today. And you know what? I'm so glad. Because if I had to face one more person asking me in a supremely fake monotone, "Hi! How is your day and what can I do for you?", I may just forgo my commitment to sanity and pull a full on case of cra-ZAZY.
I could do it, too. You think it wouldn't be that scary? That's because I like you and you've been LUCKY.
(and yes, I am AWARE of my extensive use of all caps. IT'S HOW I FEEL, OK?)