Monday, July 11, 2005
Complaint Box
My cell phone company sent me a text message at three in the morning today to tell me that I'm approaching my "spending limit" for the month. I have no idea what that means (I suspect it may have something to do with the roughly three thousand text messages I've sent on vital topics like the badness of the Dukes of Hazzard trailer and my boredom while waiting in line at Corner Bakery), but I'm certainly glad it woke me up. I sat bolt upright in bed, convinced a close relative was surely lying bloodied in a ditch somewhere, but it turned out that Sprint just thought Monday morning before sunrise would be a great time for some sound fiscal planning. Unfortunately, I doubt my "spending limit" situation can be remedied by chucking my phone out the window.
And the day has not substantially improved. On my run I was nearly struck by a large-haired woman in a Subaru who apparently had a different interpretation of "left turns yield to pedestrians" than I did, although she certainly compensated for any deficits in rhetorical skill with the rather impressive volume of her voice. Then I got to work to discover that everyone here apparently so much fears my departure in a month that they've decided to make it impossible for me to ever leave, creating a little Les-Mis-style barricade in my office out of whatever insane and ridiculous legal pleadings they can find. Oh, and at lunch I found out I just bought a twelve pack of expired, really flat Diet Coke. I'd say it's enough to make me go back to bed, but I'm afraid of what account information Sprint might still have left to share.
Isn't it nice to live in a country where we have the luxury of complaining about such trivial things?
My cell phone company sent me a text message at three in the morning today to tell me that I'm approaching my "spending limit" for the month. I have no idea what that means (I suspect it may have something to do with the roughly three thousand text messages I've sent on vital topics like the badness of the Dukes of Hazzard trailer and my boredom while waiting in line at Corner Bakery), but I'm certainly glad it woke me up. I sat bolt upright in bed, convinced a close relative was surely lying bloodied in a ditch somewhere, but it turned out that Sprint just thought Monday morning before sunrise would be a great time for some sound fiscal planning. Unfortunately, I doubt my "spending limit" situation can be remedied by chucking my phone out the window.
And the day has not substantially improved. On my run I was nearly struck by a large-haired woman in a Subaru who apparently had a different interpretation of "left turns yield to pedestrians" than I did, although she certainly compensated for any deficits in rhetorical skill with the rather impressive volume of her voice. Then I got to work to discover that everyone here apparently so much fears my departure in a month that they've decided to make it impossible for me to ever leave, creating a little Les-Mis-style barricade in my office out of whatever insane and ridiculous legal pleadings they can find. Oh, and at lunch I found out I just bought a twelve pack of expired, really flat Diet Coke. I'd say it's enough to make me go back to bed, but I'm afraid of what account information Sprint might still have left to share.
Isn't it nice to live in a country where we have the luxury of complaining about such trivial things?
