Thursday, May 13, 2010

Money goes to the Bank, Unless Murphy gets in the way

In my every day life I have a job that I really love.  

This week has been the exception to that rule.  Murphy came to town and has been living with me since Monday.  And I gotta tell you Murphy is of the female persuasion and a bee-yatch to boot!  

Everything that could go wrong has.  

For example, yesterday I had to make a run to the bank and post office.  Now just so you know this is not the first time I have had to do this.  I know what the outcome should be.  Drive to post office, drop outgoing mail, check post box, go to bank and make deposit before coming back to office.  Now that sounds pretty simple right?  Well on a normal day, no sweat, I can do it with my eyes closed.  Well I don't because that would just be silly, but I am trying to illustrate a point here.

Yesterday, it felt as if I really did have my eyes closed.  I made it through the post office part of the scenario with flying colors.  Once on my way to the bank I looked over at the passenger seat where the bank deposit had previously been sitting and noticed it was mysteriously gone.  Hmmm.  I pulled over to see if it has somehow gotten blown to the area between the door and the seat.  Nope, it wasn' t there.  Next I looked under the seat while panic started to rear it's ugly head.  Actually I could hear Murphy laughing and see her rubbing her hands together in a very sinister way.  (Like I said bee-yatch!)

After frantically searching all over the car, yes even the trunk - it could too have been there - it occurred  to me I had probably dropped it at the post office with the other fifty pieces of mail that I just sent out.  Oh no.  Jumping back behind the wheel I careened across four lanes of traffic in a U-turn that would have made NCIS Special Agent Jethro Gibbs proud.  (Actually I merged gently back into traffic, went to the next block and back tracked, but the U-turn sounded so much more dramatic.)

Back at the post office I found myself standing at the back of a line consisting of every grandma and grandpa in the greater Pensacola area.  I guess this is the post office you use if you're a senior citizen.  Twenty five minutes, no joke, later I get to the window.  The lady helping me, her name was Alice (I have changed her name in the interested of protecting an identity.  Mine.  I may still go back and run her down with my car.)

I explain my situation in hurried bursts of conversation.  To say that Alice was unimpressed is an understatement.  Did I mention the deposit that I had misplaced was a ten thousand dollar deposit?  No, well there you have it.  So I really thought she would appreciate my dilemma.  She did not.

Do you remember the character Tim Conway played on the Carol Burnett show.  The Old Man.  He shuffled his way everywhere with the shaggy white hair and could get nothing done right.  I think he and Alice are related.

She had to log out of her computer.  Oh-kay.  After, she put up a "next window" sign.  I was the only person in the joint by this time.  What?  Was she afraid I would not know where she went and would suddenly need more help? 

After another twenty minutes she came back out.  With the deposit.  I was so relieved.  She waved it at me from the door and asked if that was what I was looking for.  I assured her it was and leaned over to take it from her.  At the last second she leaned back and asked if I had some identification with my company name on it.  I was flabbergasted.  Seriously?  SERIOUSLY?  Were their five other people in line asking for the deposit they slipped into the drop box?

She finally just took pity on me and gave it back.  I am not sure if it was because of the fire shooting from my eyes or the steam escaping my ears.  All I kept thinking was, good choice Alice.

I can only imagine what is in store for me the rest of the week.  If anyone out there wants to take mercy on me, call Murphy and tell her to go torture someone else.  Please.

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