You can't get $101 from an A.T.M.

There are many different ways I could begin this post.  (Alas, I chose a boring option.)  I could say, "Call me Alexander.  (Ishmael is taken.)" and cite the book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.  I could ponder why, if Murphy's Law is a law, why didn't everything go wrong yesterday?  (Although, considering I couldn't log on yet again to post this misadventure, and that my key card worked when I brought in the groceries but not when I returned from the apartment, it came pretty close.)

I'm sure I've forgotten some things, since that's what I do when I'm overwhelmed with data in one day, but you'll get my point.  I oversee five crews (and a smattering of other people).  At the end of the day, I congratulated the leader of the crew that had not broken or damaged any equipment.  One guy (from the smattering) I'll have to write up because 1) as he was pulling a trailer from the shop to park it just 100 feet away, the trailer came off the hitch and cut a hole into the passenger door of a pickup truck parked there, and 2) the truck he had driven for a repair job at one of the schools was reported for running a stop sign and taking the corner on two wheels.  As far as everyone else goes, I have to see if there's perpetual negligence worthy of writing them up, or if they're all taking turns damaging equipment.  (Oh, did I mention the guy, not on my crew nor in the smattering, who reported an injury?)

I managed to call to set up gas and electric service in my name at the apartment.  The gas company was very friendly and said that my installation charge and my deposit would appear on my first bill.  The electric company insisted that I must pay my deposit, in cash, at a check-cashing agency -- who charged me a dollar for the service, which the electric company didn't warn me about, and which I will complain and request a refund for, which I won't get -- the same afternoon, or they wouldn't turn on the electricity.  (I'm just lucky I had some other money in my pocket.)

That completely rearranged my afternoon schedule, but I did get my groceries out of it, since the ATM is in a grocery store.  I didn't get my razor blades because the drugstore, conveniently in the same shopping center as the discount supermarket (oh, didn't the electric company tell me that the check-cashing agency was inside a grocery store and is not a stand-alone business?) was finishing a remodeling and had only brand-name products on their shelves.  (I can wait a few days for the store brand, or go to another store.  I've shelled out enough money already today, thanks.)

I went to the apartment and discovered that my POD had been delivered, although no one called me.  It was placed in the corner of the parking lot farthest from my apartment and will require anyone wheeling a dolly or carrying any item to pass over a speed bump.  (There are two ways to my apartment from this particular corner of the parking lot, and each way has a speed bump.)  The office manager said that the driver told her handyman he "had to" put it there, rather than closer to my apartment, so it wouldn't block traffic.  (How can something which fits in a parking space, which is where it ended up anyway, block traffic?)  The handyman (whom I fortuitously happened to meet, as he had a box cutter to remove the thick, plastic band slid through the latch, which I didn't know would be there, or else I would've brought my stout shears, which I would've done if the driver had phoned me...) says the driver phoned but didn't reach me.  (He, the handyman, also said he would repair the ceiling above my shower tomorrow -- as I'm writing this, in anticipation of posting, I hope, the day after I composed it, which would mean he fixed it, or not, today, assuming I can get online tomorr... today.  Oh, I give up.  Any tense problems from here on can be fixed with a liberal amount of alcohol, taken internally, by the reader.)  I suppose that might be the driver's phone number in my missed calls list, but as he didn't leave me a voice mail, it might also be a wrong number from someone in this area code, since it's not one I have programmed into my phone, so how am I supposed to know, if, as I have said, he didn't leave a voice mail?

I then phoned the POD People to let them know that (even though I had brought my keys, just in case, and removed the lock) I could not open the POD.  (Hey, you could call me Dave, too.)  After talking through all the troubleshooting options she was programmed to feed to me, I finally got through to the woman who answered the phone that I wasn't having any problems with the door (that I know of) because it's the latch which won't move, so I can't even try the door yet.  Seriously, if I had known that would happen, I could've saved gas and time and phoned in my complaint (speaking of complaints, the POD People had my correct phone number on file, but that still doesn't explain why the driver, if he called, didn't leave me a message so that I'd know that he called) from my hotel room.  So, I wasn't able to vacuum my apartment or even determine if my TV and flowerpots survived the move intact.  But wait, there's more!

The young woman on the phone put me on hold (no classical music this time, just propaganda about how great these POD People think they are) to call the local store manager (who, as it turns out, was the driver who insisted he had called me) and learn from him that he can come back to my POD and assist me "some time tomorrow morning" and that he'll call me when he's on his way!  (I hope you're laughing at this point, because I'm still too close to the situation to do anything but cry.)  I asked the woman if I could schedule a time, and she said no.  (Of course not, as they couldn't be bothered to schedule the delivery with me, either.)

I just had a brilliant thought!  (The quiet book during and after dinner must have helped soothe my brain.)  "Why, no, sir," I'll tell the driver, "I haven't received any e-mail from you POD People about my delivery because the hotel has had internet problems since last Thursday -- or was it Wednesday? -- so I have been unable to check e-mail."  (And, if he doubts my statement that I don't use work time for personal e-mails -- considering I can't even use my half-hour lunch break to set up utility service without someone interrupting my dessert apple with a report of more damage -- I'll just refer him to all of you, who indeed will vouch that I have not sent you any e-mails from Tulsa during my work hours.)

I'm really glad that I enjoyed my dinner treat last night, because I certainly paid for that happiness today!  (Um, that dinner the night before, and the paying for happiness yesterday...)  I was tempted to treat myself again (kind of like drowning my sorrows), but that German restaurant wouldn't be open again, and I didn't happen by any other interesting restaurant signs.  (That's interesting signs for restaurants, not necessarily signs for interesting restaurants, although either would be greatly appreciated.)

Now I think I'll shower and go to bed and dream of pleasant things, like having internet connectivity again.  (Considering the typical weirdness of my dreams, being online would qualify as a pleasant dream!)

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This addendum was written on the same day as posting, so there will be no confusion between "today" and "yesterday".  (I still recommend an internal dosage of alcohol.)

The POD Person did phone this morning, and then sounded put out because I said, "I'm in a meeting with my boss.  In about five or ten minutes, I can head over there."  Given our mutual bad moods when I arrived, I didn't complain about the absence of notification.  I didn't even say that the latch looked rustier than when I loaded the POD (mostly because I hadn't seen the unit for six months, so I can't accurately recall how rusty it was, but I didn't think it was as bad then as it is now).  Even the POD Person had to fight with it.  "That needs some oil on it!" was his suggestion.  Well, yeah, and since you work for the company that owns this unit and stored it for me (allegedly indoors, in a temperature-controlled setting), it shouldn't be my responsibility to oil the latch.

Once he unstuck the latch, he had trouble opening the door.  Why?  Because many of my boxes had not just shifted but had come unstacked and tumbled to the back of the unit.  (That kitchen chair definitely was not that close to the door.)  "You should've tied everything down," was his second helpful comment of the day.  Oh?  Well, your company should've kept the unit level instead of slinging it around whenever they moved it, and everything would've stayed where I put it.

Of course, I can't tell you if anything (TV, picture frames, dishes, bicycle, flower pots, etc.) is broken inside because, an hour before quitting time, it started raining, and I'm not going to get cardboard boxes and furniture (small pieces, at any rate) and myself wet with repeated schleps across the parking lot.  I'm going to stay at the hotel, post this, and then enjoy a book.