I think my children are allergic to the phone. Not the actual appliance. That they push buttons on, chew, gnaw, hide, slobber over and Owen has been known to use as a flashlight to scare away monsters. It is only when it is properly in use that the allergic reaction begins. The second someone answers on the other end or I attempt to leave a message, someone has a breakdown.
Today, I realized that I never paid the credit card bill. It is usually due about now and I don't remember ever seeing it. I grabbed the mail basket, which Tess immediately emptied all over the floor and began to chew on some junk mail. I decided that a cd case was much more safe and seemed to occupy her for a moment.
After sifting through some old Christmas cards, a few coupons, magazine subscription renewal pleas and mounds of junk mail ...I find what I had been searching for. The bill. The one that is due tomorrow. Any other bill and this would be no big deal. Credit cards however will have a late fee equivalent to my balance. I realize that this is the 21st century and I can pay it online. No clue what the log in is but surely I can click on that box under login pass word and they can email it to me. Atleast after I tell them my pet's name, 3rd grade teacher and bra size.
One small problem, they need to know that little bitty # written on the back of your credit card. I don't actually have this card. It is in the lock box in the top of Shaun's closet ... for obvious reasons ( hey, the lock box is much improved over the ziplock bag of water that it used to be frozen in the freezer).
I decide to go with plan B and make my payment over the phone ( for a big fat fee......although still less than my late fee would be). I go to the bathroom, gather up snacks and find something good to watch on TV, knowing that I might be here a while. On hold, listening to corny music interupted every so often just to let me know that my call is important to them.
Shockingly after pushing about 50 buttons and only 5 or so minutes on hold......a person actually answer.
A person who for which English is not their first langauge. Flashbacks to Slumdog Millionaire flood my brain while I ask to make my payment, agree to their outrageous fee, and that NO I would not like to purchase additional insurance, a new watch or a magic bullet food processor.
Tess suddenly realizes that I am actually talking on the phone and her allergic reaction begins.
She discards the tasty cd case that she was chewing on and tries to eat the phone. I hear a click and fear the worst. That me and my new foriegn friend have been disconnected. I click flash and am relieved to hear this woman ( even if it is a struggle to understant her) still on the other line. I repeat my bank's routing #. Loudly over much screaming.
Genius on the other end takes this moment to point out that, " miss, I think your baby is crying".
Really. You think so. And I am suddenly aware that she just might be able to hear her screams all the way in India............even after I hang up.
Today, I realized that I never paid the credit card bill. It is usually due about now and I don't remember ever seeing it. I grabbed the mail basket, which Tess immediately emptied all over the floor and began to chew on some junk mail. I decided that a cd case was much more safe and seemed to occupy her for a moment.
After sifting through some old Christmas cards, a few coupons, magazine subscription renewal pleas and mounds of junk mail ...I find what I had been searching for. The bill. The one that is due tomorrow. Any other bill and this would be no big deal. Credit cards however will have a late fee equivalent to my balance. I realize that this is the 21st century and I can pay it online. No clue what the log in is but surely I can click on that box under login pass word and they can email it to me. Atleast after I tell them my pet's name, 3rd grade teacher and bra size.
One small problem, they need to know that little bitty # written on the back of your credit card. I don't actually have this card. It is in the lock box in the top of Shaun's closet ... for obvious reasons ( hey, the lock box is much improved over the ziplock bag of water that it used to be frozen in the freezer).
I decide to go with plan B and make my payment over the phone ( for a big fat fee......although still less than my late fee would be). I go to the bathroom, gather up snacks and find something good to watch on TV, knowing that I might be here a while. On hold, listening to corny music interupted every so often just to let me know that my call is important to them.
Shockingly after pushing about 50 buttons and only 5 or so minutes on hold......a person actually answer.
A person who for which English is not their first langauge. Flashbacks to Slumdog Millionaire flood my brain while I ask to make my payment, agree to their outrageous fee, and that NO I would not like to purchase additional insurance, a new watch or a magic bullet food processor.
Tess suddenly realizes that I am actually talking on the phone and her allergic reaction begins.
She discards the tasty cd case that she was chewing on and tries to eat the phone. I hear a click and fear the worst. That me and my new foriegn friend have been disconnected. I click flash and am relieved to hear this woman ( even if it is a struggle to understant her) still on the other line. I repeat my bank's routing #. Loudly over much screaming.
Genius on the other end takes this moment to point out that, " miss, I think your baby is crying".
Really. You think so. And I am suddenly aware that she just might be able to hear her screams all the way in India............even after I hang up.
Comments