I'm a Real Person, Damnit!
This morning I was briefly, but hilariously, possessed by the spirit of my dead mother.
Before I explain, I feel compelled to say this is a post that no self-respecting person would share with world (or even the two or three people who might read this). Oh, I'm not going to admit to anything illegal or even anything that could get me in trouble at work, but just a story that makes me look very silly. But I really don't have a sense of shame (I do have an overactive sense of guilt but these are very different things) and while I feel a little guilty about this morning's hijinks, they are possibility entertaining. And I prize being entertaining above all else. So here goes.
To set the stage: when I got home from work last night, there was a notice on our door from CenterPoint saying "Please call to schedule an appointment." You see, "they" (CenterPoint, the City, the aliens?) have been doing work in our neighborhood for the last month or so. I don't know who they are or what they are doing, I don't care what they are doing. I only know that they sometimes wake me up in the morning (either from the noise they are actually making or by setting my dogs off) and they have torn up the sidewalk making it very difficult to complete my OCD mapped out run. They have also left casually-strewn caution barricades lying on the corner, blinking away in the dark, looking both ghostly and cool.
The notice says we need to call "immediately" to avoid having our "gas cut off." And there are all kinds of arrows and underlines and capitalization to make me feel like I just received a ransom note. (See attached photo, Exhibit A). And I have all night to stew about this. What do they mean by "immediately"? Do they expect me to around tomorrow? Do I even need gas in the summer? Can I handle taking a cold shower? Etc., etc...
So this morning I stumble out of bed at 7:30 (I know, hardly the crack of dawn, but hey, I didn't really get to sleep until 4:00 the night before because of a middle-aged meltdown and sleep deprivation is harder to bounce back from when you're middle-aged) and call the number on the notice. I am asked to leave a message, and my mother, she of the hysterical answering machine messages, temporarily takes over my body. Thank god I don't actually have a copy of the message (although I am sure it has been replayed and enjoyed over and over today by several employees involved in the street project) but to the best of my recollection (and using a small amount of artistic license) it went like this:
"Hello, this is Amy, at (our address) and I'm calling about a notice we got yesterday about needing to make an appointment for service to avoid having our gas cut off. I...I can't even think of any polite way to describe this note. It's very dramatic. So I guess call me back so we can make an appointment. I will be around, but you know, we are real people, with real lives and jobs and we just can't sit around waiting for you."
Well, I guess that told them. To make it better, I'm pretty sure that because of aforementioned sleep-deprivation, I sounded stoned.
Long anecdote short, the guy who left the note called back right away. Turns out he is one of the dudes actually working on our street so he stops on over and is very polite and apologizes if his note sounded "threatening." (To paint the picture, while we are chatting, I am in my sweaty running clothes but wearing flip flops with big flowers on them). So we have an appointment for some other guy to come over tomorrow to replace our gas meter. Again, I don't know who or why but just know that I have to be around when it happens (luckily with my real life job I can often work from home) and that Chad and I had some "negotiations" about who was going to clean out the basement and invade Kitty Boo-Boo's lair so the gas guy can access the meter. (Chad won/lost. I got to leave the crazy message, he got to face the basement.)
So why am I blaming any of my craziness on my poor mother? Here are just a few examples of the dramatic messages she delivered (paraphrased and artistically filtered and rendered, of course. I'm sure my siblings could think of more!)
Before I explain, I feel compelled to say this is a post that no self-respecting person would share with world (or even the two or three people who might read this). Oh, I'm not going to admit to anything illegal or even anything that could get me in trouble at work, but just a story that makes me look very silly. But I really don't have a sense of shame (I do have an overactive sense of guilt but these are very different things) and while I feel a little guilty about this morning's hijinks, they are possibility entertaining. And I prize being entertaining above all else. So here goes.
To set the stage: when I got home from work last night, there was a notice on our door from CenterPoint saying "Please call to schedule an appointment." You see, "they" (CenterPoint, the City, the aliens?) have been doing work in our neighborhood for the last month or so. I don't know who they are or what they are doing, I don't care what they are doing. I only know that they sometimes wake me up in the morning (either from the noise they are actually making or by setting my dogs off) and they have torn up the sidewalk making it very difficult to complete my OCD mapped out run. They have also left casually-strewn caution barricades lying on the corner, blinking away in the dark, looking both ghostly and cool.
The notice says we need to call "immediately" to avoid having our "gas cut off." And there are all kinds of arrows and underlines and capitalization to make me feel like I just received a ransom note. (See attached photo, Exhibit A). And I have all night to stew about this. What do they mean by "immediately"? Do they expect me to around tomorrow? Do I even need gas in the summer? Can I handle taking a cold shower? Etc., etc...
 |
| Exhibit A: The Ransom Note |
So this morning I stumble out of bed at 7:30 (I know, hardly the crack of dawn, but hey, I didn't really get to sleep until 4:00 the night before because of a middle-aged meltdown and sleep deprivation is harder to bounce back from when you're middle-aged) and call the number on the notice. I am asked to leave a message, and my mother, she of the hysterical answering machine messages, temporarily takes over my body. Thank god I don't actually have a copy of the message (although I am sure it has been replayed and enjoyed over and over today by several employees involved in the street project) but to the best of my recollection (and using a small amount of artistic license) it went like this:
"Hello, this is Amy, at (our address) and I'm calling about a notice we got yesterday about needing to make an appointment for service to avoid having our gas cut off. I...I can't even think of any polite way to describe this note. It's very dramatic. So I guess call me back so we can make an appointment. I will be around, but you know, we are real people, with real lives and jobs and we just can't sit around waiting for you."
Well, I guess that told them. To make it better, I'm pretty sure that because of aforementioned sleep-deprivation, I sounded stoned.
Long anecdote short, the guy who left the note called back right away. Turns out he is one of the dudes actually working on our street so he stops on over and is very polite and apologizes if his note sounded "threatening." (To paint the picture, while we are chatting, I am in my sweaty running clothes but wearing flip flops with big flowers on them). So we have an appointment for some other guy to come over tomorrow to replace our gas meter. Again, I don't know who or why but just know that I have to be around when it happens (luckily with my real life job I can often work from home) and that Chad and I had some "negotiations" about who was going to clean out the basement and invade Kitty Boo-Boo's lair so the gas guy can access the meter. (Chad won/lost. I got to leave the crazy message, he got to face the basement.)
So why am I blaming any of my craziness on my poor mother? Here are just a few examples of the dramatic messages she delivered (paraphrased and artistically filtered and rendered, of course. I'm sure my siblings could think of more!)
- To the power company during a power outage: "You have to restore the power right away because my daughter (me) was taking a shower when the power went out and now she can't rinse the soap out of her eyes." (I stood by her in the kitchen and listened in amazement as she said this, because I hadn't been even close to the shower).
- To Marshfield Clinic: "I don't see why I should have to pay this medical bill because despite all the operations you did on my husband, he's not working right. You can just have him back if you want." (She kind of had a point there).
- To ANYONE (including insurance agents) that she described the car accident I was in as a teenager): "Amy wasn't wearing her seatbelt, but it was in her lap. She just hadn't had a chance to fasten it yet." (Just completely not true).
I'm not saying that my mom was a liar or intentionally difficult. I think she just got caught up in the moment and really wanted to make an impact. If she felt the victim of an injustice, she would use whatever words she could to right the wrong, and she was totally committed to her version of reality.
Yes, I know I was not in any significant way wronged by CenterPoint or the City of Minneapolis or the guys or the aliens or whoever it is working on our street. Just slightly inconvenienced. So I am embarrassed that I gave some poor guy just trying to do his job a hard time, but also have to smile because I made my mother proud.
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