Tomorrow, I’m Going To Make A Grown Man Cry

I’m about this close to burning down The Blue House. (this.is.how.close.)

It hasn’t even been three weeks, and I’ve practically had the damn thing rebuilt from the pipes on up. Busted water pipes, leaky water heaters, faulty electricity, toilets backing up into the bathtub, PANTIES BEING STOLEN, greedy landlords who only understand English when it is convenient for them, rogue packs of dogs sullying Ella’s good name, awnings caving in, termites, PANTIES BEING STOLEN, emotional breakdowns, crying, weeping, gnashing of teeth…

Enough. Enough. Enough.Enough.Enough.Enough.

I’ve had enough.

Today started out with the reserved, yet hopeful, anticipation that we would have high speed internet by sundown. AT&T delivered like a champ. They were here bright and early first thing this morning, and as each obstacle presented itself, they addressed the problem immediately and with cracker jack precision. 5 hours of pole climbing, cable laying, and network testing yielded the best internet connection any of us ever had. Well done, AT&T.

Also in the line-up today was the electrician. I shopped around until I found one that worked within my pay range and who would allow me to make payments. I can strong-arm a landlord into paying for water pipes, but a dryer is not considered a necessity. I almost bled blood trying to get her to send me a plumber to fix the toilet…The appliance outlet wasn’t going to make much of a blip on her radar. The guy showed up, and in the space of two minutes, the outlet problem was fixed. I wanted to french kiss the little guy. First the internet, and now clean clothes. Life is starting to look up. Right?

Wrong.

Tony hooked up the washer with the missing hoses I sent my son to get from the appliance place because a douche “forgot” to bring them when he delivered the prehistoric machines. So much for paying for the delivery and set up of the purchases. Surprise! The washing machine doesn’t work at all. 

What.A.Surprise.

It doesn’t even pretend to turn on. And the dryer? No heat!! Forget that both of these machines look like they were the first step above the washboard. When I found out how much Mindy had paid for these two pieces of scrap metal, my first thought was that some jerk salesman saw her coming about a mile away. The fact that the deliveryman was unable to install either of them due to “leaving some hoses and his tools at the store” had been a pretty big red flag to me, but I was busy dealing with Mindy’s F-Word Rant. I wanted to flip out on the idiot about his obvious laziness and general indifference to our expectations, but I also didn’t want Mindy to come completely unglued. It was a judgement call…

I looked over Mindy’s receipt, and wouldn’t you know it, there is all sorts of fine print protecting the company’s interest, and pretty much nothing offered in the customer’s interests. I hope they think it’s going to be Mindy Bo Peep coming in tomorrow to sort this out. I really do. Then they won’t be prepared for me.

I’m sick of greedy people. I’m sick of deceitful sales people and lazy workers. I’m sick of obsessing over my daughter’s stolen panties. I’m sick of everyone lining up with their hands out thinking that I’m a mark and I’ll be too polite to call them on their bullshit. I’m sick of having to be a bitch just to get people to do the right thing. I’m sick of having to soothe the fears of so many people, while dealing with my own secretly, so as to not alarm those people who look to me to solve these problems.

Weeks of dealing with one problem after another, each annoying and inconvenient, has built up to this moment.

You should pity the Home Team Appliance, 1740 S Harvard Ave, Tulsa, OK 74112, 888-561-6065 store and the smooth-talking sales person who took advantage of Mindy, and the slacker who delivered this junk 7 HOURS LATE, and forgot to bring anything to do his job, and who didn’t even bother to apologize for not living up to the agreement. They are about meet Mindy’s roommate, Bird, who has finally reached the limit of what her patience can take, and is about to show them all the proper way to use the F-word, how much I give a rat’s ass what a receipt disclaimer says,  and who is happy to demonstrate how a washing machine can fit right up a salesman’s butt if one is truly determined to get it up there. The dryer I’m saving for the worthless delivery man’s ass.

Pray for their souls because their asses are mine!

~ Bird

PS: Home Team Appliance, I hope you wear a cup.