Senior Day At The Cinema

Mom called the other day and asked if I wanted to go see a new movie since she hadn't been in a while. I agreed to go since I didn't have anything better to do. We decided to go to the afternoon matinee and went to Applebees for lunch. It was really a hard decision about lunch because we usually like to go to Red Lobster when we're in the neighboring town. Anyhow, lunch was mostly uneventful. We got the Horatio Cane of waitresses. She tried having a conversation with us and wouldn't even look our way. She kept looking out the window and down at the floor. If you're not sure about what I'm referring to check out CSI Miami and watch Horatio. He's always looking down and has his head tilted funny. Weird! We purchased our tickets, bitched about the price of the popcorn and walked inside the movie theater. I thought it was strange when the lady selling the tickets said that we had purchased the last two tickets and the movie was now sold out. It was a Wednesday afternoon, school had already started back and I didn't think that this movie was supposed to be a blockbuster or anything. I soon got my answer when we arrived in Theater 2; the place was packed. It was filled with row upon row of old people, namely senior citizens. I was the youngest person in there by about 30 years. Even Mom, who ain't a spring chicken any longer looked at me strangely. What the heck's going on she seemed to be thinking? Did they get Senior price? Did they get a group discount? How can I get in this group? Quite honestly, I was thinking something completely different. I hoped no one fell, or even worse, keeled over during the exciting part of the movie. We found two seats up in the very last row and after tripping over two walking canes, a walker on wheels and a prosthetic leg we settled into our seats. The movie started and we were about 30 minutes into it when the tape broke. Mom elbowed me and decided that she wanted popcorn after all and now would be a good time to get it. I agreed and started down the steps when I heard someone ask me if I was going to the concession stand. I stopped and looked towards the voice and was startled to see the smallest little old lady imaginable. I said I was and she asked if I would get her something too. Her legs don't move so good especially when she's been sitting awhile. I nodded in agreement, collected her money and started back down the steps. Another voice chimed in. And then another. Finally, once I reached the bottom of the stairs, I just asked the entire audience who wanted popcorn. Almost every hand in the theater wobbled upright. I looked a little scared I think because the lady on the bottom row said, "Come on honey, I'll help you." It seems in the rush to get the Soothing Waters Assisted Living Home residents inside the theater before the movie started someone had neglected to ask the Seniors if they wanted any refreshments. And that's how for the next 30 minutes, myself and my helper, Genevieve, made about 25 trips to the concession stand. The manager of the theater noticed what we were doing and didn't restart the movie until we had finished. Everyone had popcorn and everyone had a drink! Well, almost. When I walked backed up the stairs totally exhausted to reclaim my seat Mom gave me a quizzical look. "Where's my popcorn?" she asked.

Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road?

I have no idea. I just thought it was a good title. But in this case, the chicken crossed the road or was placed by someone in my neighbor's fenced yard for no other reason to drive me crazy on a Sunday afternoon. I have no idea where the rooster came from. I have the windows open because it's too hot, too soon and I'm too cheap to turn on the air conditioner this early in the year. It's still winter, for heaven's sake. The rooster crowed for over an hour before I realized it wasn't coming from the television. I've stopped watching a lot of network television--however, I am hooked on Homeland on Showtime--I only have about three weeks of the free stuff left on my new customer special with Dish so I am binge-watching it to get caught up. Imagine my surprise, after the umpteenth cock-a-doodle-do that I realized the television wasn't on. I live in the country but none of my neighbors have any chickens. I heard the rooster sound off again and decided this was cause for an investigation so I put on my slippers and ventured outside. Mom called right when I saw the chicken for the first time. Mom: "What are you doing?"  Me: "Spying on a chicken."  Mom: "Is it fried?"  Me: "Nope, it's still running around the yard. Don't know where it came from?"  Mom: "Okay, but you're not keeping it."  Me: "Why not?"  Mom: "Cause I already ate..." I wasn't the only one interested in the chicken. Wally and Ralphie spent the whole afternoon searching for the bird making all that racket.   Later in the afternoon, after a Sunday meal of fried chicken (I know) Mom called and wanted an update on the situation. Me: "Guess what?"  Mom: "You caught the chicken?"  Me: "Nope. Friend tried to get a pic of it."  Mom: "Did she get it?"  Me: "Nope. She stepped on a snake..."  Mom: "Oh. I thought I heard yelling..."  Me: "There's was LOTS of yelling and cursing and I beat her inside the house...." Now, I know why the chicken crossed the road. To get the hell away from that snake.

A Letter To Rose

Author's note: The following essay was my entry into the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition which takes place every two years. Everyone suffers loss and each person has their own way of coping--mine is to write and this is probably the most honest thing I've written. Even though it didn't win the contest, Rose's daughter, Elizabeth, told me a poem I wrote and read aloud at her mom's memorial service was framed and hanging on her wall and  also her grandmother's wall. To me, nothing captures the spirit and writings of Erma more than the acknowledgement that someone likes your words well enough to hang them up on a door, wall or refrigerator. And you know what, there's nothing losing about that. With the family's blessing, I'm sharing the essay here. Dear Rose, I can't believe you're gone. It seems like yesterday we were sharing stories and laughs over a large sweet tea from Chick-Fil-A--about the guy that always forgot your name. A lot has happened since then. I've thought about what brought me to the post office that day. Five years since I'd dropped by, but on my drive home, thoughts of "Have lunch with Rose" wouldn't leave my mind.  We'd tried to get together but our plans always fell through. I was shocked when I walked in the door. Sitting in a chair working the counter--which was never allowed--was someone unrecognizable. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Doctors say pneumonia, but I'm not so sure." We talked, but you didn't have the strength for lunch, so we planned it for another day. How could I have known it would be your last day at work? How could we have known that another day would never come? I received the call while driving and pulled over to get the news. Stage four. Cancer. You’re only 50. I called as soon as I got home."It's stage four,” you said, “but treatable. I'll do anything to get out of work." We laughed together at that, but "treatable" is what we clung to. "I'll visit when I get back," I said. “You take the best vacations,” you said. “Bring me a souvenir” "Are you coming to visit today?" your daughter asked. "Mom is having trouble." “I’ll be there soon.” "She's here, Rose. Your friend is here," your mom said. The light returned to the room when you opened your eyes--an afternoon of laughter, tears and memories but heartbreak just outside the door. "Thank you so much for coming," your sister said, “You gave us back our laughter,” and we cried some more. "When will you be back?" I saw the look on her face as she led me into the room. "Maybe, a week at most," your mom said. "How can this be happening?" You died two days later. I think you were there when I read the poem to our friends at the service. It made us cry but we all laughed at the punch line.  Everyone came. Finally, Rose, I just wanted you to know that you have a new granddaughter, your namesake, and she's beautiful. Your grandson is so sweet and kind, but sometimes, he just stares at her. Maybe he knows you’re looking out at him. Every one of us has an empty place that will never be whole again. The laughter may come and go but love lasts forever and we’ll always remember your name. I miss you. Signed, your friend.

The Gas Company Strikes Back...The Whole Story

Mistakes happen. And bad customer service reigns supreme throughout the land. At least this seems to be my life with the local gas company. For nearly 20 years I have been the unfortunate recipient of mistakes and bad customer service. Usually in the same visit. Things have gotten so bad I am more surprised when a visit goes off without a glitch. Shouldn't my experience be the opposite? Is it too much to expect to place a phone call, discuss the price per gallon, argue over the extra fees (Come on people, a fuel surcharge fee? That's so last year. Besides, gas is the lowest its been in years--next thing you know, they'll be charging a hose connect fee to complete the delivery.), get a final total, go pay for it in person (because they overcharged your credit card on the phone), get and look at the receipt before leaving (because they put it on another account), get thanked for using their service (never happens), and expect delivery of the product in a timely fashion (if it shows up at all)? Well, is it? Gimme a break! If you missed the earlier tale of my bad gas experiences, you can check it out here. In late October when the first chilly morning dawns (Chilly is subjective here, because as the MAFW, my hormones fluctuate on an hourly basis, so your definition of chilly might be slightly different. For me, it's usually noticeable frost on the windshield) I pull out the Farmer's Almanac and read their projections for the winter ahead. I also look at the local television station's long-term forecast and then take an afternoon hike searching for any woolly bear caterpillars (more brown and less black) that might be around (sometimes, old school still works best). Based on those factors and the balance in my checking account, I send out positive thoughts to anyone that might be listening (for patience and a sense of humor) and make the call. The following conversation occurred last fall: Rep: "Hello? Heritage Propane. Can I help you?" Me: "Hi, I'd like to place an order for propane, please." Rep: "Sure. Do you have an account with us?" Me: "Yes, I do." Rep: "Sure. What's the account number?" Me: "I'm not sure, I don't have paperwork from last year. Can you look it up another way?" Rep: "Sure. What's your phone number?" I rattled off my telephone number. Rep: "I'm sorry, I don't have you in my system. Could it be listed under another name?" Me: "Nope. I've had the same name for 48 years." Silence. Rep: "Sure." (What is it with the sure?) "Let me check again? Could you repeat the number?" Me: "Sure..." Rep: "There you are, we had your named spelled wrong." Me: "Not a problem. Happens all the time." Rep: "I'm sure. How much gas did you want to order?" Me: "How much is it?" Rep: "Well, that depends on how much you purchase. The more you order, the cheaper it is." Me: "I'm sure. I have a five-hundred gallon tank." Rep: "Wow! That's big. What percentage are you on?" (And that right there my friends is where she almost tripped me up. If you say you have less than a certain amount, the gas company says they have to perform a suck test to make sure there aren't any leaks in the system. And you know, there's a fee for that, too. I'm sure! The magic number is 10%; you never have less than that amount.) Me: "I've got about ten percent." Rep: "Okay then. The price is $1.29 a gallon." Me: "Excuse me?" Rep: "It's $1.29 a gallon." Me: "Are you sure?" Rep: "Of course, I'm sure." I heard her running numbers through the calculator again and then she put me on hold. Me: "Hello?" Rep: "Sorry about that, but I'm new here and wanted to make sure I was doing everything correctly. You questioned the price I gave you and I wanted to be sure I was doing it right." Me: "I'm sorry. I was just startled by the quote you gave." Rep: "Too high?" Me: "Are you kidding me? I've never paid less than $2.00 a gallon. I was in shock." Rep: "I see. Okay, well how much would you like." Me: "Fill 'er up..." Rep: "You want me to fill it up?" I started doing the calculations in my head. I recently returned from a two-week trip up the East Coast and it was less than two months before Christmas. A fill up would be a very large chunk of change that I really didn't want to pay, but the price was so good and I knew it would only be going up during the winter months. I could be warm now but end up eating Ramen noodles and Vienna Sausages during the Holidays. There's nothing wrong with that but I do have a fondness for more traditional holiday fare. Me: "On second thought, let me get 300 hundred gallons. I checked my various sources and they said it wasn't supposed to be that cold this winter." Rep: "I read a report here at the office that said that, too, but I saw a woolly worm the other day and it was completely black." Me: "Uh oh. That's bad." We chatted some more while she rang up my total and once you added in the taxes and fees it was nearly $500. I was quite pleased with this because my total consumption for the year is never more than 425 gallons and I usually only purchase a 100 gallons at a time because it's so expensive. Rep: "Okay, everything is set. Did you want to pay by credit card?" Me: "Uh, no. I'll be up with a check later today." Rep: "Sure. Thanks for calling. Have a good one." I did go and pay by check later that day and the propane was delivered eight days later. I did have to call and ask about it at the one week mark because...well...I've had problems in the past. The delivery ticket was lost somewhere in the office and it was delivered the next day. (I only live three miles from the location.) I was still happy. You can't beat $1.29... ...Or maybe you can. On February 15, I checked the gauge carefully (I use carefully here because there is that time when I used a lighter as a flashlight to check the gauge one winter evening and almost blew myself up) on the buried propane tank and it was nearing 10%. It turned out that it hasn't been that cold this winter--certainly not for an extended period of time and for a moment, I thought about not ordering anymore gas. I could always put on a second sweater (I always wear one sweater because it's an old drafty house.) I thought better of it when both cats looked at me and shivered. (Not really, but Wally sleeps on the vent.) So I placed the call. The price per gallon was now $1.89--certainly higher than $1.29, but way better than $2.79 or higher which is what I have paid in the past. I ordered a 100 gallons, verified my 10% (which was dropping fast), and paid the bill. The estimate for delivery was 7-10 working days (I would probably be out by then and they would try to get me to pay for the suck test. It's happened in the past.). Imagine my surprise three days later when I returned home from Walmart (another place that sucks the money right out of your wallet) and found a delivery ticket in the door. I jumped out of Friend's truck, opened the lid and read the gauge. I almost passed out when I read it. It said 80%. Me: "It says 80%." Friend: "You're kidding?" Me: "Maybe, the gauge is stuck." I stuck my hand further down in the tank and tapped the gauge several times. It didn't move. Friend: "I don't think it's stuck." Me: "WHY?" Friend: "We got 369 gallons..." It was Friday, after 4:00 pm. They close at four and are closed on the weekends. They don't offer anything online (although, they are working on that), so I had all weekend to think about it. Me: "You're kidding, right? It says 369 gallons..." ...How could this happen? It's not like a 100 gallons and 369 gallons are anywhere close to each other on the meter. Was the driver distracted? Was he trolling Facebook? Was he taking a leak? Was he playing pocket pool? According to my calculations, that's almost four times the amount I should have received. What normally takes less than three minutes turned into over ten minutes? Was he on a break? All of these questions and many more ran through my mind the entire weekend. But perhaps the most frustrating of all was the fact that someone was going to have to pay for it, and even though I told myself a million times that I wasn't going to, somehow, I knew that wouldn't be the case. It wasn't in the budget and for all I cared they could just come right back out to the house and suck it all back out. (I'm sure there's a fee for that, too!) I dreaded making the call on Monday, but on the other hand, I couldn't wait to hear what the explanation was about the quadrupling of my order and how they were going to handle the situation. At least I wouldn't have to talk to the mean lady because she would have probably explained that it was all my fault and they were going to sue because I caused the driver undo anguish over the mistake. I took a deep breath and placed the call. Rep: "Heritage Propane? Can I help you?" Me: "Hi, I'm Gianetta Palmer and I ordered gas last week, but there was a mistake with my delivery." Rep: "Okay. What was the problem?" Me: "Well, I ordered 100 gallons, but I received 369 gallons." Silence. Me: "Hello?" Rep: "I'm here. I think I know what you're talking about. What's your account number?" I rattled off a few numbers and she continued. Rep: "Okay, I have it right here. Yeah, the driver called right away and said he got distracted. Julie (?) worked a few numbers and we were able to take $.30 off the price per gallon and drop the price to $1.59 a gallon. I know it's a problem for you." Silence. Me: "You're right! It's a big problem...." (I was very calm and polite.) More silence. Rep: "Okay, well let me talk to Julie again and work some numbers and I'll call you back. Is that okay?" Me: "Sure." She called back a short time later. Rep: "I'm new here, but I saw in your account records that you've had problems in the past." Me: "A few.." Rep: "Well, that was before I was here but I sure am sorry (first time ever someone apologized) you're having this many problems. I mean it's not rocket science or something, we're selling gas." Me: "That's true." Rep: "Here's what we were able to do: You originally paid $1.89 a gallon for 100 hundred gallons. We reduced the original price to $.99 a gallon so deducting what you've already paid and adding the taxes and fees back in you will only owe us $161.82. And if that doesn't work for you I can give you the number to the main office and you can talk to the area manager." The only thing I heard out of that conversation was $.99 a gallon. Me: "You're gonna charge me $.99 a gallon for all of it?" Rep: "Yes." Me: "All 369 gallons of it?" Rep: "Yes." Me: "In the middle of winter?" (Two years ago I paid nearly $4 a gallon in February.) Rep: "Yes, ma'am." Me: "Okay." (Unbelievable!) Rep: "And you don't have to pay for thirty days...." I hung up the phone and just sat there waiting on the other shoe to drop. It had taken nearly twenty years and many, many mistakes but I will have to say that the gas company delivered this time. Unless an Ice Age develops in the next ten months I have enough gas to get through the end of the year. I was thrilled. Or at least I was until I got the mail two days later. They sent the new bill and it didn't match what the customer rep told me on the phone. It was $25 more. I thought about calling and complaining about the difference but thought better of it. I'd already saved several hundred dollars. Besides, knowing my luck it was probably an added fee because they had to bill me because I wouldn't pay over the phone. Mistakes happen. There's bad customer service everywhere. But, sometimes if you're nice and calm, things might eventually go your way. And I'll take 50% off any day...

The Gas Company Strikes Again...Part IV

...How could this happen? It's not like a 100 gallons and 369 gallons are anywhere close to each other on the meter. Was the driver distracted? Was he trolling Facebook? Was he taking a leak? Was he playing pocket pool? According to my calculations, that's almost four times the amount I should have received. What normally takes less than three minutes turned into over ten minutes? Was he on a break? All of these questions and many more ran through my mind the entire weekend. But perhaps the most frustrating of all was the fact that someone was going to have to pay for it, and even though I told myself a million times that I wasn't going to, somehow, I knew that wouldn't be the case. It wasn't in the budget and for all I cared they could just come right back out to the house and suck it all back out. (I'm sure there's a fee for that, too!) I dreaded making the call on Monday, but on the other hand, I couldn't wait to hear what the explanation was about the quadrupling of my order and how they were going to handle the situation. At least I wouldn't have to talk to the mean lady because she would have probably explained that it was all my fault and they were going to sue because I caused the driver undo anguish over the mistake. I took a deep breath and placed the call. Rep: "Heritage Propane? Can I help you?" Me: "Hi, I'm Gianetta Palmer and I ordered gas last week, but there was a mistake with my delivery." Rep: "Okay. What was the problem?" Me: "Well, I ordered 100 gallons, but I received 369 gallons." Silence. Me: "Hello?" Rep: "I'm here. I think I know what you're talking about. What's your account number?" I rattled off a few numbers and she continued. Rep: "Okay, I have it right here. Yeah, the driver called right away and said he got distracted. Julie (?) worked a few numbers and we were able to take $.30 off the price per gallon and drop the price to $1.59 a gallon. I know it's a problem for you." Silence. Me: "You're right! It's a big problem...." (I was very calm and polite.) More silence. Rep: "Okay, well let me talk to Julie again and work some numbers and I'll call you back. Is that okay?" Me: "Sure." She called back a short time later. Rep: "I'm new here, but I saw in your account records that you've had problems in the past." Me: "A few.." Rep: "Well, that was before I was here but I sure am sorry (first time ever someone apologized) you're having this many problems. I mean it's not rocket science or something, we're selling gas." Me: "That's true." Rep: "Here's what we were able to do: You originally paid $1.89 a gallon for 100 hundred gallons. We reduced the original price to $.99 a gallon so deducting what you've already paid and adding the taxes and fees back in you will only owe us $161.82. And if that doesn't work for you I can give you the number to the main office and you can talk to the area manager." The only thing I heard out of that conversation was $.99 a gallon. Me: "You're gonna charge me $.99 a gallon for all of it?" Rep: "Yes." Me: "All 369 gallons of it?" Rep: "Yes." Me: "In the middle of winter?" (Two years ago I paid nearly $4 a gallon in February.) Rep: "Yes, ma'am." Me: "Okay." (Unbelievable!) Rep: "And you don't have to pay for thirty days...." I hung up the phone and just sat there waiting on the other shoe to drop. It had taken nearly twenty years and many, many mistakes but I will have to say that the gas company delivered this time. Unless an Ice Age develops in the next ten months I have enough gas to get through the end of the year. I was thrilled. Or at least I was until I got the mail two days later. They sent the new bill and it didn't match what the customer rep told me on the phone. It was $25 more. I thought about calling and complaining about the difference but thought better of it. I'd already saved several hundred dollars. Besides, knowing my luck it was probably an added fee because they had to bill me because I wouldn't pay over the phone. Mistakes happen. There's bad customer service everywhere. But, sometimes if you're nice and calm, things might eventually go your way. And I'll take 50% off any day...

The Gas Company Strikes Again...Part III

...Part III of my latest encounter with the gas company. Check out parts one and two to get you caught up. Me: "Fill 'er up" Rep: "You want me to fill it up?" I started doing the calculations in my head. I recently returned from a two-week trip up the East Coast and it was less than two months before Christmas. A fill up would be a very large chunk of change that I really didn't want to pay, but the price was so good and I knew it would only be going up during the winter months. I could be warm now but end up eating Ramen noodles and Vienna Sausages during the Holidays. There's nothing wrong with that but I do have a fondness for more traditional holiday fare. Me: "On second thought, let me get 300 hundred gallons. I checked my various sources and they said it wasn't supposed to be that cold this winter." Rep: "I read a report here at the office that said that, too, but I saw a woolly worm the other day and it was completely black." Me: "Uh oh. That's bad." We chatted some more while she rang up my total and once you added in the taxes and fees it was nearly $500. I was quite pleased with this because my total consumption for the year is never more than 425 gallons and I usually only purchase a 100 gallons at a time because it's so expensive. Rep: "Okay, everything is set. Did you want to pay by credit card?" Me: "Uh, no. I'll be up with a check later today." Rep: "Sure. Thanks for calling. Have a good one." I did go and pay by check later that day and the propane was delivered eight days later. I did have to call and ask about it at the one week mark because...well...I've had problems in the past. The delivery ticket was lost somewhere in the office and it was delivered the next day. (I only live three miles from the location.) I was still happy. You can't beat $1.29... ...Or maybe you can. On February 15, I checked the gauge carefully (I use carefully here because there is that time when I used a lighter as a flashlight to check the gauge one winter evening and almost blew myself up) on the buried propane tank and it was nearing 10%. It turned out that it hasn't been that cold this winter--certainly not for an extended period of time and for a moment, I thought about not ordering anymore gas. I could always put on a second sweater (I always wear one sweater because it's an old drafty house.) I thought better of it when both cats looked at me and shivered. (Not really, but Wally sleeps on the vent.) So I placed the call. The price per gallon was now $1.89--certainly higher than $1.29, but way better than $2.79 or higher which is what I have paid in the past. I ordered a 100 gallons, verified my 10% (which was dropping fast), and paid the bill. The estimate for delivery was 7-10 working days (I would probably be out by then and they would try to get me to pay for the suck test. It's happened in the past.). Imagine my surprise three days later when I returned home from Walmart (another place that sucks the money right out of your wallet) and found a delivery ticket in the door. I jumped out of Friend's truck, opened the lid and read the gauge. I almost passed out when I read it. It said 80%. Me: "It says 80%." Friend: "You're kidding?" Me: "Maybe, the gauge is stuck." I stuck my hand further down in the tank and tapped the gauge several times. It didn't move. Friend: "I don't think it's stuck." Me: "WHY?" Friend: "We got 369 gallons..." It was Friday, after 4:00 pm. They close at four and are closed on the weekends. They don't offer anything online (although, they are working on that), so I had all weekend to think about it. Me: "You're kidding, right? It says 369 gallons..." This story is longer than I expected. Check back on Sunday for the conclusion....

The Gas Company Strikes Again...Part II

...And I'm a bit late with part two but I did finish all of the revisions and wrote the ending on my next two books. So, I haven't been sitting around eating Cadbury Eggs. (Well, I have been doing that, too!) On with the story... Rep: "There you are, we had your named spelled wrong." Me: "Not a problem. Happens all the time." Rep: "I'm sure. How much gas did you want to order?" Me: "How much is it?" Rep: "Well, that depends on how much you purchase. The more you order, the cheaper it is." Me: "I'm sure. I have a five-hundred gallon tank." Rep: "Wow! That's big. What percentage are you on?" (And that right there my friends is where she almost tripped me up. If you say you have less than a certain amount, the gas company says they have to perform a suck test to make sure there aren't any leaks in the system. And you know, there's a fee for that, too. I'm sure! The magic number is 10%; you never have less than that amount.) Me: "I've got about ten percent." Rep: "Okay then. The price is $1.29 a gallon." Me: "Excuse me?" Rep: "It's $1.29 a gallon." Me: "Are you sure?" Rep: "Of course, I'm sure." I heard her running numbers through the calculator again and then she put me on hold. Me: "Hello?" Rep: "Sorry about that, but I'm new here and wanted to make sure I was doing everything correctly. You questioned the price I gave you and I wanted to be sure I was doing it right." Me: "I'm sorry. I was just startled by the quote you gave." Rep: "Too high?" Me: "Are you kidding me? I've never paid less than $2.00 a gallon. I was in shock." Rep: "I see. Okay, well how much would you like." Me: "Fill 'er up..." Check back soon for part three and the conclusion...