Chivalry is dead, and common courtesy is wheezing its last gasp.
Wednesday, I made my regular trip to The Gas Station Chicken Store. As I was entering, I spied a dude coming that way at a good clip. I gave the door an extra-wide shove so it didn't close in his face. He caught it and entered on my heels. Figuratively, not literally. No thanks or anything. Not that I expected it.
We continued down the middle aisle, me stepping lively, due to that heel thing. At the end by the coolers, I made a right turn to get to the soda fountain. I was conscientious about doing my business quickly, because I wasn't sure if he was waiting for a turn at the beverage trough. I heard the cooler door slam, and I knew he wasn't. Still, I glanced over my shoulder just in case. Dude was nowhere in sight.
I walked to the front, toting my 44 oz Diet Coke. Peering around the end cap of the aisle, I could see Dude standing there holding two bottles of soda. So I knew he was ahead of me, even if we weren't in an actual line. I'd heard the cooler door, and he was already up front when I got there and I looked.
Two old ladies were paying at the counter. One started a lengthy spiel to the Man Owner, who was running the register. She must be a regular, or former regular. She told him about her husband having Alzheimer's, and two strokes. The other old lady, who had forked over the money, smiled at Man Owner, and said, "Okay, Mom. It's time to go." As they made their exit, Dude stepped up to the counter.
Fair enough. It WAS Dude's turn. Though some people will politely glance at the true line, and ask if another person was there first. Once in a blue moon, of course. As Dude was stepping up, an old man came in the door, kind of shuffling, a bit hunched over. He didn't go down the aisle, but stayed beside the end of the counter, where the card scanner sits, tethered by a wire. I figured I'd let him go ahead of me, because I was going to cash in a $75 scratcher. I'm a giver like that. A giver of my rightful turn in line.
Yes, I knew full well I was next. But I thought I'd let that old man go first. He was old, you know. Imagine my surprise when Old Man bellied up to the counter like it was his inalienable right, stating that he had $25 in gas!
HOW DARE HE!
Old Man KNEW it was my turn. He had looked me right in the eye when he came in the door. He saw me standing next in line, as soda Dude was paying. Yet now he was deliberately taking my rightful turn! Let the record show that this made me want to NOT GIVE HIM MY TURN!
I guess nearness to the register is 9/10 of the Next-In-Line Law.
I was even more surprised that Man Owner let Old Man get away with it. I'll give him a pass, because Man Owner gets all discombobulated when there is more than one customer. Besides, he apologized for my wait. I assured him that I am never in a hurry.
What in the Not-Heaven is wrong with people these days? An old Val can't even give away her turn without it being stolen from her first!
Friday, May 10, 2019
Thursday, May 9, 2019
Hick House Basement 05-08-19, Re-Visited
Of course Hick sent me more pictures of the Hick House basement right after my pictorial of it had published. That's how he does things. Rather than stop the presses after the fact, and try to edit that tale, I made things easier on myself. I also made things easier on you, by letting you out of the basement for a day. Well. Not really. I merely transferred you from the Hick House basement to my own basement lair. Hope you don't grow moss from your subterranean sojourn.
Today you're back at Hick House.
Good luck with these images. I sincerely thought I had the basement layout mastered. According to Hick, I did not. It doesn't help that he changes his descriptions from day to day.
This is that opening he described, to get into the room with the black cast iron old sewer pipes. Silly me. I'd thought it was at the corner of the main basement area, but apparently, it's in a separate room that would be accessed through this hole. It's still under the old bathroom. At the back of the house, on the uphill side. Here are some of the new sewer pipes that HOS has run from the new bathroom. If you stand in the basement door upon entering, this would be the wall on your left, that runs across the back of the house.
Sorry if that's confusing. My mind is still swirling from Hick giving me three detailed explanations, walking me through the landmarks, while I was on our own back deck, shucking corn. It didn't help that each description was different than the one before, and that Hick kept referring to NORTH SIDE.
I asked Hick about those jars on the ledge, and he said they're gallon jugs.
"They were in the house already. They're really old."
"How old?"
"I'd say they're from the late 80s or early 90s."
"Um. That's barely 30 years. I don't really consider them old."
This is a little door that has nothing to do with anything. It's in the front wall of the basement, as Hick calls it. The wall on your right as you're standing in the basement door. It leads to a crawlspace under the front part of the house. Like the area under the living room and master bedroom.
This is the back wall of the basement, after you've stepped through the door, and turned to face left. You can see the door, and the new electric box that Hick has now put a door on. Also, he's gotten rid of the old electric box. This picture also shows a lot of junk that was originally in the basement, that Hick told HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) to get rid of. In Hick's words, HOS has been fiddle-fartin' around doing pieces of other projects, and not following Hick's commands. Hick is a little testy (heh, heh, I said TESTY). He says there is about half a dumpster full of junk that he had to step over and around while putting in the electric.
That's the thing. When you're the one who spent the $5000 to get the house, you think you're the boss of the project! Hick thinks HOS should have shoveled up that junk and gotten it out of the basement, rather than just clearing it into piles. Hick is the foreman of this job site, and HOS is the laborer!
Today you're back at Hick House.
Good luck with these images. I sincerely thought I had the basement layout mastered. According to Hick, I did not. It doesn't help that he changes his descriptions from day to day.
Sorry if that's confusing. My mind is still swirling from Hick giving me three detailed explanations, walking me through the landmarks, while I was on our own back deck, shucking corn. It didn't help that each description was different than the one before, and that Hick kept referring to NORTH SIDE.
I asked Hick about those jars on the ledge, and he said they're gallon jugs.
"They were in the house already. They're really old."
"How old?"
"I'd say they're from the late 80s or early 90s."
"Um. That's barely 30 years. I don't really consider them old."
That's the thing. When you're the one who spent the $5000 to get the house, you think you're the boss of the project! Hick thinks HOS should have shoveled up that junk and gotten it out of the basement, rather than just clearing it into piles. Hick is the foreman of this job site, and HOS is the laborer!
Wednesday, May 8, 2019
That Creepy Over-the-Shoulder Feeling
Not sure what is going on around here. I'd blame Hick for making me the star of my own Gaslight
movie, but he was nowhere around. In fact, he was upstairs, where I
could keep tabs on him by his footsteps. More accurately, by the sound
of him stumping around on footless ankles. That's how he walks. Like
there's no fleshy heel or flexible foot.
Anyhoo... Monday night, Hick had been over to the BARn for 45 minutes, looking for some kind of boring electrical connectors to use at Hick House. I purely regretted asking him why he went over there. I thought I might nod off from sudden-onset narcolepsy, there at the bottom of the stairs, while he went into detail. Then I asked him about the pictures from the Hick House basement he'd sent me. You can bet your bottom dollar that Val is not gonna risk a fine from violating the Truth in Blogging Law! Our entire exchange lasted about three minutes, and I returned to my lair.
I was tapping away at New Delly's keyboard when something seemed amiss. You know how you get that feeling. Like something is different. Like when you're driving your usual route, and your eye is drawn to a new yard sign, or a house with its trim painted a different color. You might not be consciously thinking about it, but your subconscious knows. I swiveled my old rolly chair part-way, and looked over my left shoulder.
Huh!
The ceiling light in the corner was on. Not a big deal, right? I had the lights on. Since I've been spending so much time alone down here, without The Pony or even Hick to hear me scream, I turn the lights on. The Truth in Blogging Law just gently tapped me on the shoulder, and said, "You'd better make that 'turn the light on,' because only one of the four ceiling lights works, remember?"
Yes. That has been standard operating procedure here in the lair for many, many months now. Maybe longer. Hick says he has the fluorescent lights somewhere. He's always meaning to fix them. I've gotten used to my foot-candles. I can have 3/4 of a dark basement lair. The next best thing, without being frightened out of my skin by the occasional (okay, routine) odd occurrence.
Anyhoo... my subconscious had picked up on the fact that my lair was TOO BRIGHT! I'm including pics, to prove it happened.
That's the offending light, which had the GALL to come on, while I was out of the room talking to Hick. It's in the corner behind me, diagonal from my desk and New Delly.
There's the one by the door of my lair. Off. As usual.
That's over in The Pony's corner. Off. Where my old giant gray metal desk sits, which used to hold young Pony's computer, when he was in his formative years.
That's the light directly over New Delly. The only light that has been consistently lit all these years.
Let the record show that I'm not as bad a picture-taker as these skewed images might portend. Nor am I trying to be artsy-fartsy and make you feel like you're going down on the Titanic. I was just trying to include other parts than the ceiling, so you could see that these are four different lights, in four different areas of the lair's ceiling.
I went back out to holler up to Hick. Kind of glancing over my shoulder, lest that light go OFF while I was out of sight. Hick didn't see anything remarkable about this occurrence.
"Oh. That happens. They come back on."
I wonder if that's what he told the people at work who wanted their lights replaced. I know that when such a light went out in my classroom, it did not come back on. I had to fill out a maintenance request, and wait about a week or two for fixing. I know that, because I had 100 students every day, a good number of which were kind enough to point out to me every day that the light was not working.
Maybe that's why Hick has been so slow to fix my lights. He KNEW they'd eventually come back on! Nah. I don't think so.
_____________________________________________________________
Welp! That didn't last long.
That light has been off again, as usual, from the time I descended to my lair around 2:00 this afternoon. (Tuesday)
I pointed out to Hick that the light is off again.
"But that's perfectly normal, according to you, so no big deal."
"It's NOT normal, Val."
"That's what you told me yesterday. That these lights go on and off all the time."
"No. Things happen to them. That's what I said. It's not normal, no."
Funny how Hick changes his tune after Val has finished the symphony.
Anyhoo... Monday night, Hick had been over to the BARn for 45 minutes, looking for some kind of boring electrical connectors to use at Hick House. I purely regretted asking him why he went over there. I thought I might nod off from sudden-onset narcolepsy, there at the bottom of the stairs, while he went into detail. Then I asked him about the pictures from the Hick House basement he'd sent me. You can bet your bottom dollar that Val is not gonna risk a fine from violating the Truth in Blogging Law! Our entire exchange lasted about three minutes, and I returned to my lair.
I was tapping away at New Delly's keyboard when something seemed amiss. You know how you get that feeling. Like something is different. Like when you're driving your usual route, and your eye is drawn to a new yard sign, or a house with its trim painted a different color. You might not be consciously thinking about it, but your subconscious knows. I swiveled my old rolly chair part-way, and looked over my left shoulder.
Huh!
The ceiling light in the corner was on. Not a big deal, right? I had the lights on. Since I've been spending so much time alone down here, without The Pony or even Hick to hear me scream, I turn the lights on. The Truth in Blogging Law just gently tapped me on the shoulder, and said, "You'd better make that 'turn the light on,' because only one of the four ceiling lights works, remember?"
Yes. That has been standard operating procedure here in the lair for many, many months now. Maybe longer. Hick says he has the fluorescent lights somewhere. He's always meaning to fix them. I've gotten used to my foot-candles. I can have 3/4 of a dark basement lair. The next best thing, without being frightened out of my skin by the occasional (okay, routine) odd occurrence.
Anyhoo... my subconscious had picked up on the fact that my lair was TOO BRIGHT! I'm including pics, to prove it happened.
That's the offending light, which had the GALL to come on, while I was out of the room talking to Hick. It's in the corner behind me, diagonal from my desk and New Delly.
There's the one by the door of my lair. Off. As usual.
That's over in The Pony's corner. Off. Where my old giant gray metal desk sits, which used to hold young Pony's computer, when he was in his formative years.
That's the light directly over New Delly. The only light that has been consistently lit all these years.
Let the record show that I'm not as bad a picture-taker as these skewed images might portend. Nor am I trying to be artsy-fartsy and make you feel like you're going down on the Titanic. I was just trying to include other parts than the ceiling, so you could see that these are four different lights, in four different areas of the lair's ceiling.
I went back out to holler up to Hick. Kind of glancing over my shoulder, lest that light go OFF while I was out of sight. Hick didn't see anything remarkable about this occurrence.
"Oh. That happens. They come back on."
I wonder if that's what he told the people at work who wanted their lights replaced. I know that when such a light went out in my classroom, it did not come back on. I had to fill out a maintenance request, and wait about a week or two for fixing. I know that, because I had 100 students every day, a good number of which were kind enough to point out to me every day that the light was not working.
Maybe that's why Hick has been so slow to fix my lights. He KNEW they'd eventually come back on! Nah. I don't think so.
_____________________________________________________________
Welp! That didn't last long.
That light has been off again, as usual, from the time I descended to my lair around 2:00 this afternoon. (Tuesday)
I pointed out to Hick that the light is off again.
"But that's perfectly normal, according to you, so no big deal."
"It's NOT normal, Val."
"That's what you told me yesterday. That these lights go on and off all the time."
"No. Things happen to them. That's what I said. It's not normal, no."
Funny how Hick changes his tune after Val has finished the symphony.
Tuesday, May 7, 2019
Hick House Basement 05-05-19
The electric company came to Hick House on Monday, and connected electricity from the poles on the street to the new service entrance Hick put on the side of the house. They also disconnected power from the original wires that ran across the deck. That meant Hick could finalize the electrical connections in the basement. Here are some pictures he took over the weekend.
This is the original cast-iron sewer pipe, which the new plumbing (PVC pipe) will tie into. It's in the corner of the basement under the old bathroom, which is now just a room that will be used for storage, next to the new bathroom. I'm sure you remember the old bathroom.
HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) got all the fixtures out of that room. He had to use a SAWZALL to get the shower out in pieces. Hick and HOS bought some plywood to patch the floor, and have since moved all their tools and sawhorses in there, in preparations for starting work on the master bedroom.
Standing in the basement door, looking in, you can see the water heater has been moved in. That's a concrete pillar supporting the house. The other things are part of the heating duct work hanging down. The light is coming from an actual light, not from a window.
It's a partial basement, that runs along the back of the house, under the pantry off the kitchen, the old bathroom, the kitchen itself, the new bathroom, and perhaps a sliver of the living room and master bedroom. Big enough to store things in, hold the water heater and furnace, and seek shelter from tornadoes. According to Hick, the big cast iron sewer pipe is in a separate little room, that you get to through this room, through a 2' x 3' hole. When I asked what the purpose of that was, Hick said, "That's just how they did things back then."
The main electric box is also in the basement. If you step in through the basement door, the electric box is to your left, on the wall behind you.
There's the new electric box that Hick just installed, next to the off-kilter old electric box, which Hick tied into so he could have power while waiting for the new source to be hooked up to the poles on the street by the electric company. Now that it has been connected, Hick is ready to take out the old box, and put a door on the new one, with the breakers labeled.
The big projects remaining are the master bedroom, and the plumbing. According to Hick, the plumbing can be done in one day, if HOS is on time, and they really get after it. HOS has not yet moved in the furnace, which he has, much like Hick had a collection of assorted building materials. A friend of HOS is going to hook up the electric furnace for him. Hick could do the electrical part, but not the duct work. There IS a limit to Hick's talents.
HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) got all the fixtures out of that room. He had to use a SAWZALL to get the shower out in pieces. Hick and HOS bought some plywood to patch the floor, and have since moved all their tools and sawhorses in there, in preparations for starting work on the master bedroom.
Standing in the basement door, looking in, you can see the water heater has been moved in. That's a concrete pillar supporting the house. The other things are part of the heating duct work hanging down. The light is coming from an actual light, not from a window.
It's a partial basement, that runs along the back of the house, under the pantry off the kitchen, the old bathroom, the kitchen itself, the new bathroom, and perhaps a sliver of the living room and master bedroom. Big enough to store things in, hold the water heater and furnace, and seek shelter from tornadoes. According to Hick, the big cast iron sewer pipe is in a separate little room, that you get to through this room, through a 2' x 3' hole. When I asked what the purpose of that was, Hick said, "That's just how they did things back then."
The main electric box is also in the basement. If you step in through the basement door, the electric box is to your left, on the wall behind you.
There's the new electric box that Hick just installed, next to the off-kilter old electric box, which Hick tied into so he could have power while waiting for the new source to be hooked up to the poles on the street by the electric company. Now that it has been connected, Hick is ready to take out the old box, and put a door on the new one, with the breakers labeled.
The big projects remaining are the master bedroom, and the plumbing. According to Hick, the plumbing can be done in one day, if HOS is on time, and they really get after it. HOS has not yet moved in the furnace, which he has, much like Hick had a collection of assorted building materials. A friend of HOS is going to hook up the electric furnace for him. Hick could do the electrical part, but not the duct work. There IS a limit to Hick's talents.
Monday, May 6, 2019
This Is Hick's Idea of Winning the Lottery
It's no secret that Hick is not the lucky sort. Well. Except for snagging Val, of course. Otherwise, he is not one to win big on lottery tickets. Probably due to not buying many. Nor is he a lucky duck in a casino, low-rolling. But on Saturday, Hick felt like he hit the jackpot.
I had called him to ask about (one of) his tractor(s). HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) had asked to borrow it to move some stuff up on our other property, where he is currently residing. Yet when I came home from town three hours later, Hick's tractor was still in front of the BARn. Anyhoo... Hick wasn't concerned about the tractor. He'd been on a Goodwill tour up north. He didn't find anything, but he was excited.
"I was coming down [county road lettered highway] and saw some people putting stuff out at the end of their driveway. They had a wire rack, like for plants, and a gun rack, and a microwave! I stopped to get them."
"Were the people still there?"
"Yeah. The guy said, 'I have a dresser, too, if you want that.' So I went to look at it, but it's too big, and they don't sell. That rack will bring me $15, and the gun rack will get $5, and the microwave $8-10. So I got a bargain! Anything I make off them will be profit!"
I wish I'd taken a picture of them in the back of SilverRedO. Hick pulled down the driveway while I was sitting in it talking to him on my cell phone. I was excited because he was finally there, for once, to carry in my box of groceries from Save A Lot. It doesn't take much to make Val giddy. Hick wanted me to admire his haul first.
The plant rack was nice. It was black metal, with some curvy curlicues. The gun rack was solid wood, with grooves for five guns. A little sanding, and a stain, and it might even get more than $5. The microwave was not my cup of tea. Hick was going to plug it in on the porch, to see if it worked. Before he bothered to clean it. As you might imagine, nobody cleans a microwave before they set it at the end of their driveway for free.
There. Hick took a picture before he left for the auction. He'd already taken out the microwave. It works! This is not the angle I would have chosen for the picture, but you can still kind of see the black metal plant rack against the backdrop of SilverRedO's black plastic bed-liner. And most of the gun rack.
I quizzed him about whether he was really taking SilverRedO to the auction.
"Somebody will take your treasures out of the back."
"No they won't."
"Seriously? At an auction? Nobody is going to take something left in a truck bed?"
"No."
"You're not planning on taking A-Cad, are you, thinking I won't know?"
"Nope. I'm taking the truck."
He did. His treasures are safe. Who knew that auctions were such bastions of honesty?
I had called him to ask about (one of) his tractor(s). HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) had asked to borrow it to move some stuff up on our other property, where he is currently residing. Yet when I came home from town three hours later, Hick's tractor was still in front of the BARn. Anyhoo... Hick wasn't concerned about the tractor. He'd been on a Goodwill tour up north. He didn't find anything, but he was excited.
"I was coming down [county road lettered highway] and saw some people putting stuff out at the end of their driveway. They had a wire rack, like for plants, and a gun rack, and a microwave! I stopped to get them."
"Were the people still there?"
"Yeah. The guy said, 'I have a dresser, too, if you want that.' So I went to look at it, but it's too big, and they don't sell. That rack will bring me $15, and the gun rack will get $5, and the microwave $8-10. So I got a bargain! Anything I make off them will be profit!"
I wish I'd taken a picture of them in the back of SilverRedO. Hick pulled down the driveway while I was sitting in it talking to him on my cell phone. I was excited because he was finally there, for once, to carry in my box of groceries from Save A Lot. It doesn't take much to make Val giddy. Hick wanted me to admire his haul first.
The plant rack was nice. It was black metal, with some curvy curlicues. The gun rack was solid wood, with grooves for five guns. A little sanding, and a stain, and it might even get more than $5. The microwave was not my cup of tea. Hick was going to plug it in on the porch, to see if it worked. Before he bothered to clean it. As you might imagine, nobody cleans a microwave before they set it at the end of their driveway for free.
There. Hick took a picture before he left for the auction. He'd already taken out the microwave. It works! This is not the angle I would have chosen for the picture, but you can still kind of see the black metal plant rack against the backdrop of SilverRedO's black plastic bed-liner. And most of the gun rack.
I quizzed him about whether he was really taking SilverRedO to the auction.
"Somebody will take your treasures out of the back."
"No they won't."
"Seriously? At an auction? Nobody is going to take something left in a truck bed?"
"No."
"You're not planning on taking A-Cad, are you, thinking I won't know?"
"Nope. I'm taking the truck."
He did. His treasures are safe. Who knew that auctions were such bastions of honesty?
Sunday, May 5, 2019
I Would Bet My Casino Bankroll That This is IRONY!
You might recall that Val and irony are not friends. Not acquaintances. Don't nod at each other in passing. Can't recognize each other in old yearbook photos. No, irony is not part of Val's posse. Irony is more like the sister of a cousin of a friend of the Target check-out gal Val once used when she was 16.
Friday, I went to the ATM at my bank. It's a trip I make every Friday. The ATM is built into the brick wall on the back side of the bank, by the three drive-thru lanes. When I pulled T-Hoe around back, I saw one car in a drive-thru lane, and several foil balloons tied to the tube-y sucky canister thingies. Two employee gals were talking to the driver, clad in special bank t-shirts, wearing their ID badges. I figured they must be having some kind of promotion, quickly running through holidays in my head. I seriously doubted May Day or Cinco de Mayo festivities from these folks. It didn't concern me, though, because I was only dealing with the ATM built into the brick wall. Or so I thought.
I had just slid my debit card into the ATM when one of the outside tellers walked over. She did that little dance, like when you play unintentional chicken with somebody walking towards you, side-to-side, not sure which way to go. Teller started for T-Hoe's driver's window, but it was within six inches of the wall. So I motioned her to the passenger side, and put down the window. I didn't unlock the doors, though. Val wasn't born yesterday. Even a seemingly-innocent teller could carjack me with my ATM fortune!
Teller greeted me by name. I'm like Cheers Norm! Teller was very polite. I like that gal. I think she's the one who told me her aunt won $100,000 on a scratcher. We're probably kindred spirits. She would never think I was scamming the bank with a check from my credit union!
"Do you use online banking?"
"No, but my son does. On the account we share. His student account."
"If you want to set one up, we can do that."
"It's easy for young people like you. But I have trouble with it."
"My stepdaughter is 18 (REEEE! I thought this gal was about 24. I guess it's possible) and she uses it all the time. I do too! It's really convenient."
"My son uses it to pay his credit card, and switch money between accounts."
"It's so easy! You can pay your electric bill, and your credit card, and your TV/internet..."
"I'm not ready right now."
"Well, we can do it any time. Just think about it. We're here when you need it. Would you like a bottle of water, or a muffin?"
"No, thanks."
Teller wandered back to the drive-thru lanes. I turned to the ATM, and made the first of my transactions. I take out money for our weekly cash allowance and some at-home, in-safe savings for six-month bills like insurance. That way, it's not in checking to fritter away, so the bill is covered when we get it, by the cash I've been stashing for that purpose. It's not that I don't trust myself, it's that I don't trust Hick to see a balance in the checkbook and think he can go buy something without telling me. You know. Like shoe inserts from The Good Feet Store, or a third tractor.
Anyhoo... my weekly withdrawal comes out of the ATM in twenties, and rather than risk clogging it, I take it out in two transactions. But this time, the ATM told me in an angry red screen that it could not dispense the money as requested! What in the NOT-HEAVEN! I knew I had enough money. It was not above the daily limit the bank arbitrarily assigned to my account. Had Hick used his debit card that morning for cash back, without telling me? This was poppycock! I call shenanigans! I tried THREE times to get my money out of my account. Each transaction less than the previous, in case the issue was the daily amount. Same red screen of denial. Hmpf!
I took back my debit card and drove through, under the drive-thru roof, and down the back alley, to an old used-car lot, now empty, where Hick and I had once bought a pontoon boat. I stopped there to fill out a withdrawal slip, and headed back up the main road to the bank. I fully intended to go inside anddemand to know inquire politely what the problem was with my account. However, I saw that all ten parking spaces were full, so I went around back to the drive-thru.
Of course all lanes were full now. And the roof must have been replaced with a metal roof last time they fixed it, because my Sirius XM radio would not work. So I fiddled around with my cash that I'd already scammed from the ATM, sorting it for later distribution. Shh...don't tell Hick, but he gets the limp and torn bills, and I take the crisp ones for myself. The medium ones are stashed for Christmas and the insurance.
And now, here comes the IRONY!
When I pulled in, I saw the two bank employees still walking around the drive-thru area, with their clipboards. I overheard one tell a customer,
"Please be patient. We are having trouble with our internet system."
!!!
Wouldn't that put the kibosh on online banking?
Yeah. I'm SURE this is IRONY! Positive! Pretty sure. At least I think so.
Friday, I went to the ATM at my bank. It's a trip I make every Friday. The ATM is built into the brick wall on the back side of the bank, by the three drive-thru lanes. When I pulled T-Hoe around back, I saw one car in a drive-thru lane, and several foil balloons tied to the tube-y sucky canister thingies. Two employee gals were talking to the driver, clad in special bank t-shirts, wearing their ID badges. I figured they must be having some kind of promotion, quickly running through holidays in my head. I seriously doubted May Day or Cinco de Mayo festivities from these folks. It didn't concern me, though, because I was only dealing with the ATM built into the brick wall. Or so I thought.
I had just slid my debit card into the ATM when one of the outside tellers walked over. She did that little dance, like when you play unintentional chicken with somebody walking towards you, side-to-side, not sure which way to go. Teller started for T-Hoe's driver's window, but it was within six inches of the wall. So I motioned her to the passenger side, and put down the window. I didn't unlock the doors, though. Val wasn't born yesterday. Even a seemingly-innocent teller could carjack me with my ATM fortune!
Teller greeted me by name. I'm like Cheers Norm! Teller was very polite. I like that gal. I think she's the one who told me her aunt won $100,000 on a scratcher. We're probably kindred spirits. She would never think I was scamming the bank with a check from my credit union!
"Do you use online banking?"
"No, but my son does. On the account we share. His student account."
"If you want to set one up, we can do that."
"It's easy for young people like you. But I have trouble with it."
"My stepdaughter is 18 (REEEE! I thought this gal was about 24. I guess it's possible) and she uses it all the time. I do too! It's really convenient."
"My son uses it to pay his credit card, and switch money between accounts."
"It's so easy! You can pay your electric bill, and your credit card, and your TV/internet..."
"I'm not ready right now."
"Well, we can do it any time. Just think about it. We're here when you need it. Would you like a bottle of water, or a muffin?"
"No, thanks."
Teller wandered back to the drive-thru lanes. I turned to the ATM, and made the first of my transactions. I take out money for our weekly cash allowance and some at-home, in-safe savings for six-month bills like insurance. That way, it's not in checking to fritter away, so the bill is covered when we get it, by the cash I've been stashing for that purpose. It's not that I don't trust myself, it's that I don't trust Hick to see a balance in the checkbook and think he can go buy something without telling me. You know. Like shoe inserts from The Good Feet Store, or a third tractor.
Anyhoo... my weekly withdrawal comes out of the ATM in twenties, and rather than risk clogging it, I take it out in two transactions. But this time, the ATM told me in an angry red screen that it could not dispense the money as requested! What in the NOT-HEAVEN! I knew I had enough money. It was not above the daily limit the bank arbitrarily assigned to my account. Had Hick used his debit card that morning for cash back, without telling me? This was poppycock! I call shenanigans! I tried THREE times to get my money out of my account. Each transaction less than the previous, in case the issue was the daily amount. Same red screen of denial. Hmpf!
I took back my debit card and drove through, under the drive-thru roof, and down the back alley, to an old used-car lot, now empty, where Hick and I had once bought a pontoon boat. I stopped there to fill out a withdrawal slip, and headed back up the main road to the bank. I fully intended to go inside and
Of course all lanes were full now. And the roof must have been replaced with a metal roof last time they fixed it, because my Sirius XM radio would not work. So I fiddled around with my cash that I'd already scammed from the ATM, sorting it for later distribution. Shh...don't tell Hick, but he gets the limp and torn bills, and I take the crisp ones for myself. The medium ones are stashed for Christmas and the insurance.
And now, here comes the IRONY!
When I pulled in, I saw the two bank employees still walking around the drive-thru area, with their clipboards. I overheard one tell a customer,
"Please be patient. We are having trouble with our internet system."
!!!
Wouldn't that put the kibosh on online banking?
Yeah. I'm SURE this is IRONY! Positive! Pretty sure. At least I think so.
Saturday, May 4, 2019
A DesCENT Was Inevitable, I Suppose
Val is no longer on the top of her penny game. Oh, how the mighty has fallen. No more 30+ penny days for her! A single cent these days is cause for celebration.
Like this lone Lincoln that awaited me on WEDNESDAY, May 1. I might have treated it with more reverence, had I known at the time of finding that this would be my singular cent for the week.
It was a 1988, face down. Showing me its tail! Such a cheeky copper! Still, better than a shut-out.
____________________________________________________________________
Don't you worry about nearly-penny-less Val, though! She had other fish to fry this week.
In case you missed it, the winner was this:
That's $200! But that's not all. Two days later, I bought THIS:
It was JUST a $100 winner. Not that I'm complaining. That's almost a year of pennies.
##################################################################
"HO HO HOOOOOLD the presses!" shouts jolly old Even Steven, with his impeccable sense of humor and timing. "I have once again bestowed upon Val a last-minute coin while she's in town, with her Saturday CENTSus pre-set to publish."
It was a dime, (my word!) waiting for my hoard, in Orb K, looking up at me! [Heh, heh, a little song lyric theft from Val. Thanks, Eagles!] Actually, it was NOT looking up at me, because it was face down.
I don't know the year, because it's still in my shirt pocket upstairs. These last-minute finds tend to discombobulate me. I found this one at 12:50, with my post set to publish at 12:54. I might come back later to add the year. For record-keeping purposes. [1996]
I suppose this was Even Steven evening the dastardly trick he pulled LAST Saturday, when I spied a dime in Orb K, under the energy supplement racks, too far back for harvesting. That could be their new slogan. "Orb K: For all your energy supplement and floor-dime needs."
__________________________________________________________________
2019 Running Total
Penny # 57.
Dime # 8.
Nickel still at 6.
Quarter still at 1.
2018 TOTALS
Penny 131
Dime 17
Nickel 6
Quarter 1
2017 TOTALS (Started in March, 2017)
Penny 78
Dime 6
Nickel 0
Quarter 0
___________________________________________________________________
Like this lone Lincoln that awaited me on WEDNESDAY, May 1. I might have treated it with more reverence, had I known at the time of finding that this would be my singular cent for the week.
It was a 1988, face down. Showing me its tail! Such a cheeky copper! Still, better than a shut-out.
____________________________________________________________________
Don't you worry about nearly-penny-less Val, though! She had other fish to fry this week.
In case you missed it, the winner was this:
That's $200! But that's not all. Two days later, I bought THIS:
It was JUST a $100 winner. Not that I'm complaining. That's almost a year of pennies.
##################################################################
"HO HO HOOOOOLD the presses!" shouts jolly old Even Steven, with his impeccable sense of humor and timing. "I have once again bestowed upon Val a last-minute coin while she's in town, with her Saturday CENTSus pre-set to publish."
I don't know the year, because it's still in my shirt pocket upstairs. These last-minute finds tend to discombobulate me. I found this one at 12:50, with my post set to publish at 12:54. I might come back later to add the year. For record-keeping purposes. [1996]
I suppose this was Even Steven evening the dastardly trick he pulled LAST Saturday, when I spied a dime in Orb K, under the energy supplement racks, too far back for harvesting. That could be their new slogan. "Orb K: For all your energy supplement and floor-dime needs."
__________________________________________________________________
2019 Running Total
Penny # 57.
Dime # 8.
Nickel still at 6.
Quarter still at 1.
2018 TOTALS
Penny 131
Dime 17
Nickel 6
Quarter 1
2017 TOTALS (Started in March, 2017)
Penny 78
Dime 6
Nickel 0
Quarter 0
___________________________________________________________________
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