Thursday, April 4, 2013

Why I Drank A Martini Cocktail Yesterday

I don't believe in a drink at a time of stress and have only ever said, "I need a drink!" jokingly.  Given yesterday, I may have been wrong about this...

As so many frustrations for me do, this started online when both Hertz and the credit union wouldn't let me in. 

Hertz summarily dismissed me and after three tries at access, I said, "Tomorrow."  The credit union sniffed that "We don't recognise this computer" when I have been using it for three months, possibly more.   However, repeatedly yelling "Liar!" at the computer garnered no results.  I was directed to click on my e-mail name and they would send a new access code, but "do not exit the credit union to open it."  They instructed me to wait a moment and then press Control + N which I did -- four times because nothing happened.  In disgust, I signed off, vowing "Tomorrow." And there in my inbox were four identical messages from them. 

While running errands, I  popped into the local Hertz substation and asked why my Gold #1 Club membership was being blocked.  The guy behind the counter didn't know and rather than trying to sort it out, he handed me a brochure, pointed and said, "Call this number" and went back to the telephone and his personal conversation. 

After discussing the matter at length with three different Hertz operators, I was told, "Oh, you didn't rent a car for a year, so the computer dropped you."  I felt so strange -- there I was, sitting in my own dining room, holding a sheet of Hertz letterhead welcoming me to the Gold #1 Club and ... I didn't exist!  I logged on as a "guest" and got the car.

I had a 12:30 to 3:30 p.m. seminar on "Memory Loss" and thank God I'd remembered to calendar it.  I cut out of it at 1:30 p.m. because I had to be at a client's house for a 2 p.m. appointment.  The seminar sponsor was the volunteer program within which I work and the 2 p.m. was their client.  I used the 15 minute window left after driving from A to B to blow through MacDonald's for a Quarter Pounder and small fries.  I ate most of the fries while waiting for the light to change at Inglewood and 190th. 

When I got home, Richie was talking to his brother Charlie in New York, telling him our flights and the hotel.  They finished their conversation and hung up.  less than 15 minutes later, Charlie called back.  He and his wife had discussed the hotel and they wanted us to know it was a "welfare hotel -- you know, where they let all of the homeless in."

While a stay there could have meant an interesting column, it also meant we'd actually have to stay there and Richie was against that.  I booked us into another hotel and called the so-called welfare hotel to cancel.  The very New York-accented receptionist told me that I couldn't cancel with her at the hotel because I'd booked the room through an agency and they had my money.  I said they didn't because they'd never asked for a credit card and I'd never volunteered it.  She said to contact them and hung up.

That's when we went out to dinner and I started it with a dirty gin martini.  I must say it hit the spot. 

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