When you've been married this long, you AND your lives start to look alike.

[captainsblog]

Eleanor and I were in different jobs, in different places, yet enjoying virtually the same schadenfreude moments apart this morning.

She: Dealing with an unusual, yet not entirely rare, situation with a customer's problem, she took her question to a higher authority (in this case, a management type in a retail store) and was told, "that's not the way you do it." Eleanor was so certain she was right and the higher authority was wrong, she insisted on calling the manufacturer of the product in question, who confirmed, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Eleanor was right. Woman even wound up offering Eleanor a job in her department.

Me: Dealing with an unusual, yet not entirely rare, situation with a client's problem, I took my question to a higher authority (in this case, a management type in a clerk's office) and was told, "that's not the way you do it." I was so certain I was right and the higher authority was wrong, I insisted on looking up case authorities that confirmed, well not QUITE beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I was right. Higher Authority called just now, and while I did not get exactly what I asked for (and certainly did not get an admission that I was right- this is, after all, a civil servant we're talking about here), I got the most important document accepted for filing. She did not wind up offering me a job in her department, which is probably just as well, since my head probably would have exploded several days after starting.  Much better benefits for my survivors, though.

Not bad for a Thursday. I could never get the hang of Thursdays, even when I'm observing them on Monday (since tomorrow's my last workday this week).

----

One Saturday funny got left off my list from the other day: I made an office supply run, getting, among other things, a new can of compressed air. It does occasionally come in handy for keyboard cleaning and such, but my main use for the product, over the years, has been as a cat-scaring device when they get into places they don't belong around my desk. Most notably of late with the kitten, that would be the insides of the printer, which she insists on inspecting every time a fax comes in or an envelope comes out.  "Carriage Jam" is not a new flavor from Welch's, cat.

Things have gotten all Nancy Reagan in the office supply store since I last bought one of these critters. The label is full of warnings about huffing the stuff, and includes a note that the air now contains "a bitterant to help discourage inhalant abuse." Still, the best part was at checkout, when Nearly Fifty Year Old Me presented my contraband.

"I need your date of birth for the compressed air, sir," says the clerk.

"November 9th, 4 BC," I reply, eyes in a state of extreme rolling.

I swear I saw him type "110904" into the register before I really got going. "Yeah, I'm a little old for this, but the kids ask me to go get the stuff for the huffing parties we have down at the meth lab."

Somehow, he replied to THAT with, "And do you have your rewards card?"  I presume he meant the one from Crimestoppers for turning me in.

----

Itinerary all set. Binghamton Wednesday, New York via Maplewood NJ during the day Thursday, Baltimore by sundown, fly home Friday night. I'll post some contactage in a friends entry in case anyone else wants to pile onto that.

Comments

[mayiwrite.livejournal.com]

Too funny about the huffing.

What isn't funny is this distance. Now.