Again? Already?

So, another year has came and went, again, and it’s that time of the year once more. Holy crap, what the hell happened? It seems like just last week I was sitting out in the backyard enjoying a cold beverage. Yes, I know, I could do that now but choose not to on account of my ass. It’s treated me well over these many years and does not deserve to be frozen off. Who’s does really? Unless you figuratively are one, then freeze away, you ass you. And stay away too dammit. At least from me anyway. But, in the immortal words of Ed the Sock, “I’d rather be a smart ass than a dumb ass”. Thanks Ed.

Speaking of dumb ass, and swerving off topic just a tad, I realized just how much of one I’ve been. The amount of crap that I had to clear off of my antique roll top desk that I use for such things as scribing this drivel, could choke a goat. So the dumb ass du jour, c’est moi. Funny how fast the crap piles up when you’re not paying attention. Deja vu on the paying attention thing there.

Ok I’m back. Where was I? Oh yeah, the patio. Just kidding.

This is the time of year where everyone, and I mean everyone, bitches about shopping, idiot shoppers, driving, idiot drivers, weather, idiot weather-people, time, crowds, lines, price, out of stock items, fatigue, and other general pain in the ass kind of stuff. And yet still do their best to attempt to portray a minute portion of the true intent of the holiday season, which is “Peace on earth and good will toward men”, yet don’t, until they get home from the mall. Now that was a mouthful.

I’m not sure that I will ever understand the reason for needing an occasion that occurs only once a year for people to be nice to each other. The whole gift giving, celebrating, feasting, storytelling, laughing, and enjoying part should go beyond the confines of your hermetically sealed domicile. The niceties that you feign for curtain family members, should be unleashed tenfold and legitimately on those unsuspecting shoppers that are living the frustrations from the aforementioned paragraph. This is a time of joy, a time of sharing, a time of cheer, and a time of thinking of others, which includes every single one of those other miserable people not having a good fricken time with this.

I know what you’re thinking right now. “It’s a good thing he’s not talking about us”, right? I knew it. My readers are not normal, just like me. So as a random act of kindness I’m asking everyone who reads this to extend a hand and a smile to people you encounter, regardless of their response or lack thereof, over this holiday season. It may very well be the only one that they receive. Nothing huge like donating money, however I could use a coffee right now. Who am I kidding, anyone who knows me, knows I like a good Scotch lol.

Just one quick thought about random acts of kindness. If they have been filmed, especially by someone not performing the kindness act, and then posted on the interweb, then they aren’t “random”. They are staged and scripted because the person being filmed needs attention. Maybe they weren’t held as a child, or some other crap. Either way it’s a “look at me” thing. Definitely not random.

Here is what I ask. Hold the door open, thank people, don’t be in a rush, wish people a Merry Christmas, none of this politically correct Happy Holidays crap either, help push that stroller though the snow, tolerate the screaming kids in Walmart, and if all else fails, just smile and be happy and wish someone “have a nice day”. A positive attitude radiates exponentially. Try it.

That’s it, that’s all. It may very well be contagious. I’m hoping.

Sound corny? Damn right it sounds corny, but it works too.

Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Make The Change

Here is a documented letter that I sent to a major retail establishment regarding an interaction with their staff. I will not disclose their name, but it rhymes with "Bosco". As of today, I am awaiting a reply.

I thought I might share it with you because customer service these days seems to be a thing of the past. It seems to be a give me your money and piss off situation these days.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

On December 4^th of this year at approximately 11:30 am, my wife and I went to the Cxxxxx location here in Mytown, Ontario for a specific purpose and were rather surprised, not in a good way, at how your staff handled the situation.

Let me preface this by explaining our reason for being there that day.

The Corporation that my wife works for has an employee purchase plan available to staff who wish to buy new electronic equipment such as a computer, TV, tablet, laptop, e-reader,…etc. The employee submits a printed price quote/estimate including all fees and taxes showing an “out the door” price total. The company then furnishes payment in full to the retail establishment and the employee is left with a reasonable and manageable payroll deduction, interest free, for the purchase over a predetermined amount of time. Got it? Let’s continue, shall we.

With that in mind, we meander on over to Cxxxxx to obtain a price quote for a Samsung Galaxy Tab S2 ($547.99 + tax =$619.23) and a Samsung Galaxy Tab A ($296.99 + tax = 335.60).

We first stopped at the customer service counter to explain in detail the aforementioned purchase arrangement thinking this would be the obvious place to go. After all, they have the computers and printers for just such things. We were swiftly directed to locate an employee in the electronics area for assistance which we found unusual. No printing stations on the department floor. And yet, we venture on.

After explaining our inquiry in great detail, again, our now lowered expectations are met when the staff member in electronics redirects us to someone else, who turns out to be a floor supervisor. His name is Andre’. The names have been changed to protect to innocent. If only we could find an innocent.

We explain our situation in detail for a third time. Andre’ nods and says that he would be right back. He heads over to his computer station and begins doing something. We feel that we have finally made it to the right person for the job. After a few minutes, Andre’ returned to offer us a hand scribbled note, written in red pen, on a torn piece of scrap paper, with the names of the items listed and corresponding prices. I then reiterated the fact that we needed a printed price quote on a sheet of paper to submit to a corporate office. He responded, and I quote,

“We cannot issue a fake receipt just in case you alter it and try to claim a refund” as he pointed at the cash register area.

I then explained that we did not need a cash register receipt but a printed price total. His answer surprised me as did his following action. He answered, and I quote once again,

“That would mean I would have to all the way into the office and it’s really busy right now”.

He then turned to another employee, who seemed to be more interested in chatting with her friends than working, and said rather abruptly, “’ Maybe you can help these people”. Andre’ then turned away to help the lone other person looking to have a question answered, as he said, “I’m sorry for the wait”.

This is where we meet Nicolette without any introduction whatsoever. We are met with a wordless nod of the head, one can only interpret as “whatsup”. So we explain the entire situation all over again into a blank and uninterested gaze. Her response was short to say the least.

“Yeah, we don’t do that”. Then she turned and walked away as if we were bothering her. Andre’, having already dealt with the other customer, just shrugged his shoulders and walked away as well.

I hope that this is not the type of customer service that you encourage in your employees. It has made me reconsider Cxxxxx as not being my choice for major purchases in the future.

Just to let you know, after leaving your establishment, we went directly to two other electronics retailers and obtained price quotes without hesitation. The purchase was made through one of them that actually beat your price. Your staff just blew off close to $1000.00 sale plus future considerations.

Yours truly

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

I will do my best to update you on the type of response I receive.

I also encourage people to start writing these kinds of letters only because the situation will not change without it.

In the words of Frank Zappa, “Change is not possible without deviation from the norm”.

Very true indeed.

The Call Out

                I find watching any kind of surveillance video rather comical. Even though the content is accurate and, well, as it happened,  the TV and Movie industry have made it to seem unreal, for some reason. It is to laugh, as an old friend used to say.

          I was watching a local report from a news agency regarding a theft of items from an athletic facility, and they had video footage of the suspected perpetrator of the crime. Not actual footage of the crime itself, but of the people suspected or implicated somehow.

          There was a rather accurate description of the so called perpetrator of this crime on the news reel, as well as a great shot of them on the video as they exited the building. The description was rather accurate regarding the suspect, however, overly politically correct. I feel that this is an injustice. Bear with me here.

          The commentary was the same as always.

          “The perpetrator exited the building calmly as seen on the video. They are believed to be 5 foot 6, brown hair pulled in a ponytail, heavy framed, and wearing track pants.”

          Now, my take on this should be an honest one. Don’t be politically correct when it comes to criminals. These people are stealing form others and harming people. Call them out. Be honest. Screw political correctness.

          With the amount of soft shelled and spineless individuals becoming offended at stupid shit on a daily basis, and you know who you are, us normal folk need to take a stand.

          Call it like you see it, or like it is.

          The crime report should be broadcast as this:

“We are looking for anyone with information on the person in the video. This coward went into a locker room and stole items while people were competing for an athletic championship. What a complete scumbag. This shithead appears to be 5’2’’ (much shorter than they are), wearing rather soiled track pants, which proves that they don’t care what they look like. They’re heavy set, no, wait, they’re fat. That’s right bigger than average, which means they do not exercise and could not outrun a police officer even if they had to. This is a fat out of shape individual. The acne on their face seems to indicate a fast food diet. The overall unkempt appearance also indicates a complete lack of respect for oneself, and the overwhelming body odour should become an easy trail for local a law enforcement K9 unit to hone in on.”

          This way, the suck-holes in society, that become offended over stupid crap on a daily basis, should be pissed off enough so that the dumb ass criminals amongst them become so offended that they expose themselves. In effect, turn themselves in as they complain about being offended. 

“They called me fat”. 

Problem solved.

Motivation

Peculiar how time flies when you’re not paying attention. Or caring for that matter. That seems more to the point. Not caring. Truer to the point would be complete lack of motivation.

Those that are readers of my occasional drivel are not going to believe me if I tell you that I’ve been too busy. You already know that’s not the case. From previous posts, and, well, my life is not that full. Its lack of motivation is this case. Complete and utter.

Not that there has been a lack of subjects or topics to write about, on the contrary. I have noted a plethora of experiences in my notebook to opine about but, just have not felt the desire. Until lately.

Funny how a job can suck the life completely from you. I mean suck the life out of you to the point where you notice a change in yourself. Blame can be pointed at the company, at coworkers, at the job, at the weather, or at anything else you may dislike at any given moment. I had such a job, but no more. Thank God. Did I mention the part about being paroled? Oh wait, keep reading.

I do blame the job for one thing. That is sucking the life out of me. I blame myself even more for the fact that I allowed it to happen. Which means that I became complacent in an unhealthy situation, and it affected me to the point where I did not like the person I became.

That has been changed, and I feel as though I’ve been paroled. No shit. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about so hold off on your bullshit email comments on that fact.

Funny how something as insignificant as a job change can make one of the biggest differences in your life. Just the sheer lack of stress alone makes for a better sleep at night. Creative thoughts begin to flow again. I realize now that a pay cut in order to retain my sanity was the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. There is a hell of a lot more to life than money. Really.

All I can impart right now, is the fact that I am sleeping better, feeling better, doing better, and working better than I have in some time. A long time overdue.

I’m tired of working at a job just to survive, for a company that doesn’t deserve my efforts or loyalty. Too many times I’ve regretted having to go to work in the morning. I don’t anymore. And I encourage all those who dislike their careers to find something they enjoy, and pursue it wholeheartedly.  If it isn’t out there, create it. You will not regret your efforts. But efforts it will take.

The world is too full of sheep, content on punching a clock for the sake of a paycheck. You do have a choice. But it’s yours for the taking.

I’m not sorry for taking too long to post a new article. Actually, I’m disappointed with myself that it took so long. But I’m not sorry, lol.

Thanks for waiting.

Driving

Ah yes, the feel of the wind in your hair, if you have any. Summer weather is finally upon us and we now get to drive with the windows down, elbow stuck out of the door, shades on, music playing, and the beginnings of a quite impressive lopsided exposure to the brightness of the day. There are a few terms for it but it’s commonly referred to as a farmer’s, or trucker’s tan. Yes that inconspicuous darker tanned left arm. No, driving in reverse does not help one bit.

Feeling the sun on my face while driving with the windows wide open is rather freeing. Not quite as exhilarating as riding on the open road, but enjoyable all the same. The dog always sticks his head out of the passenger side window with ears-a-flapping in an effort to express his own pleasure with the whole thing as well. I would too but, alas, between the two of us, I’m the one that seems to end up stuck doing all of the driving. I may need to renegotiate this sometime soon.

I’m always rather surprised, that on a beautiful day like this, how many people would rather stay hermetically sealed inside a rolling hotbox with the windows fastened tight as if there were a storm approaching. The air conditioning on full blast no doubt. Sometimes I actually look to see if there is some form of condensation or frost forming in the corner of the windows. It’s there, but you need to look for it.

I mentioned earlier about the windows being down with the music playing. Many of us do this and I want to be the first to tell you that it’s alright if people see you jamming out and hear you singing aloud. Here’s a nickel’s worth of free advice on that. Look them square in the eye, keep on singing, or continue making your intense rocker face. You know the face. We all have one. It usually involves the biting of the lower lip while squinting and scrunching up your nose, all the while bobbing your head to the beat of the tune. Never break eye contact, never. Either way you will make their experience unforgettable. Being remembered as the comical rocker dude or the escaped mental patient makes no nevermind to me.

The one thing that I need to be clear about is the fact that the music that I play in my vehicle at an elevated volume, but not overbearing to my fellow motorists, is for my benefit only and nobody else’s. I have not installed a higher quality sound system just to inflict some form of unintelligible garbage, with so much bass that the trunk of the car vibrates, on the unsuspecting passers-by that I encounter on the street. There is always that one idiot, and a growing number of them. The only trend in this that I can see is, the louder the music, the worse the taste in the music. The louder, the shittier is what I mean to say.

When you encounter one of these creatures, and you will if you haven’t yet, here’s what I do. Let’s call it another little nugget of advice. This is where I direct you back to a previous paragraph regarding the singing and or rocker face. Remember? Now this is where you get to combine the two with a bonus move.

Sing louder while intensifying the face moves, and then hit them with your air guitar “A” game, all while starring right at them. They won’t know what just hit them. Having fun with it sure beats shaking your head in disgust like their parents probably do regularly.

Too Long

          I was told by a friend who reads my blog, that sometimes, they are a bit long. Also, this person, admittedly, doesn’t read so fast and it sometimes takes them longer to finish reading the entire entry. Such a dilemma. For that reason I’m going to do two things with this one just for them. The rest of you can follow along as usual.

          So here’s what I’ll do. I’m going to keep it short, and I’m going to write slower just because I know they can’t read fast. I want to make sure they keep up with the rest of the class. Cool? Now to the topic at hand.

          I was outside of an eatery that had designated handicapped parking spaces in unusual locations to say the least. They were, however, clearly marked and unmistakeable. One was near the roadside entrance to the parking lot and the other at the back/side of the building beside the delivery door. Clearly someone was not thinking when they were paid to design this convenience for our handicapped citizens.

          The people utilizing these clearly designated spaces all had the proper permits prominently displayed in the windshields of their vehicles. That’s not what I’m questioning here. I’m wondering how these permits are doled out. What is the criteria needed to obtain one of these windshield passes? They must hand them out like candy at Gramma’s house.

          I witnessed a number of vehicles park in these spots that all had permits clearly affixed in the windshield. But one struck me as odd and made me question the screening process of said permits.

          This was a contractor van that had its services of home renovations clearly emblazoned on the side. Now this seems like a pretty physical type of job. What is the handicap that allows you to have a parking permit and continue to do home renovations.

          So what is the handicap? Physical? No. They run their own contracting company. Mental? No. They run their own contracting company. I’m curious as to the criteria for these permits being issued. Am I Missing something here?

          Short and slow enough for you?

Time

          Looking back at how much time has passed since my last entry I feel I need to give you an explanation. Alright, maybe not a complete explanation because there really isn’t one. I could try to carry on about ooooh how busy I was, or how hectic things have been lately but, that would be a complete lie. I haven’t, and it hasn’t.

          The funny thing about the whole “I’ve been real busy lately” excuse is that nine times out of ten, whenever anyone, and I do mean anyone, gives you that line, they are totally bullshitting you. It is a complete and utter embellishment on a life that they want you to believe they actually have. The truth of the whole matter is that they let time get away from them and have not yet returned your call, or email, text, message (yes text and message are two different things), letter, note, posting, or suggestion. They forgot, I mean, I just plain forgot.

          I’ll speak only for myself here in this part, if only not to have to field the barrage of comments and emails with opinions to the contrary, even though you all have done this. Yes, all of you. We use the “I’ve been really busy excuse” way too often for fear that the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth will not go over well without further questioning that would surely reveal the extent of the lack of “busyness” occupying our spare time.

I have met very few people in my life that are truly and honestly busy all of the time. And even they will have a certain amount of spare time allotted just for themselves so they can take time away from things like, well…us.

I’m here to tell you that I am not too busy. I have not been too busy. Nor do I intend to be too busy any time soon. Time has just gotten away from me, and within that period of time, I seem to have neglected certain things and people that I shouldn’t have. Namely this, and you. Plus maybe a few other people.

Nope, still not sorry. And for that and only that, am I really sorry. You’d think I would have some sort of guilt cloud hanging over me by now, but, nope. I do however, realize that I am way overdue with this next posting but still…nope…nothing…sorry.

How time passes is a matter of perspective because when I was young, time seemed to always take forever. Like waiting for the end of the school year and summer vacation. It takes forever to get here. Or waiting for your approaching birthday. We all tend to count down the days right until it happens.

Compare that to growing older. The older I get the more I seem to be asking myself “where the fuck did the time go this time?”. Kinda like now. You know, the whole late with the next post thing.

Not just because I haven’t written anything in a while is not the complete reason for this reflection of time. I celebrated a birthday recently and was reflecting upon my previous birthday experiences. Through the joy, the sorrow, the excitement, the surprise, the love, the laughs, and the tears, one thing always stuck with me.

There is always that one fucking idiot who asks you the single most dumbass question on your birthday. “So…do you feel any older? Yuk yuk yuk”. And they’re always the only one laughing at it, unless you are eight years old and hearing it for the first time. I would almost always fake a sarcastic chuckle, then pretended to notice something happening…away from them. Until this year.

This year I took the time to consider this, no longer such a stupid question, because this year, for no particular reason whatsoever, it made me think. Holy crap yes I do feel older. A lot older. My God I ache in places I didn’t know I had. I groan when I sit down. Don’t get me started on the whole getting back up business. My eyesight has gotten a little worse. I’m not sleeping as well as I used to. I can crack certain joints at will. Some other joints do it on their own unexpectedly. My feet hurt. My neck and shoulders are stiff. But as I considered all of this and more, I can still smile.

Considering what has transpired in my life within the last two and a half years, you’re damn right I can smile. And for the first time I can honestly answer that silly question.

Feel older? Yes. Yes I do. Because I am able to be older, and enjoy feeling all of it.

Look Who’s Talking?

          Looking back from here it seems like a long time ago. In fact it’s only been a little over a year and a half. Not long at all, yet so far away. A lot has happened in that short period of time I must say, and never a bad moment. Well, that might be a little exaggeration from the truth but it has been a great ride as far as I can tell up to now anyway.

          I remember the day we met as if it were yesterday. To me it feels like it was, and still is, as if we had been friends all our lives. And if you believe that I have a bridge for sale that you might be interested in.

          The fact is, that we weren’t sure what to think of each other right from the initial meeting. I mean, we sized each other up at the beginning to get a feel for one other, but it was the confirmation of the final decision that made it all seem to be the right move at the time. Cliché’? Let me explain.

           I knew right from the get go that we didn’t quite see eye to eye. There was even a growl or two involved at the initial meeting which lingered to the trial walk on the leash. That did not go too well. A bit more growling and uncertainty which is to be expected with an unexpected situation looming overhead. It’s all very confusing with the whole not knowing “what’s next” kind of business.

          For lack of a better term, “the wife” was the deciding factor. For her it was something to behold. The exchange of seemingly understood facial expressions became almost indescribable if not unfathomable yet wonderful for a first encounter type of experience. It was uncanny to say the least. An instant connection if you believe in that sort of thing. I didn’t until I was in the thick of it, and was in awe. I just sat there looking with the wonder of what was next.

Remember all of that growling that was mentioned earlier during the initial meeting? Yeah, well, that was not a problem once we all got into the truck to go home. There was an elation, as a matter of fact. A realization really. This was the new direction, this was the new addition, and all of that other crap is going to be left behind. This is a good day, a happy day worthy of the excitement that was felt by all involved. 

At least all that were in the truck felt it anyway so stay tuned.

A Venting

I feel the need to vent on this particular topic so please bear with me. I don’t think that I have ever vented before so this may be a first. I’ve opined on many occasion, observed on more, yet participated on all, and been the recipient of many a situation, circumstance, happening, event, happenstance, over the course of this entertaining ride we’ve been on. But I digress.

When someone takes credit for things, like the work you did, the theories that you disproved, the options you made available, or even the ideas to solve the problems that the company asked you to solve. It kind of burns inside to the point that the diplomacy valve in my brain refuses to engage and function properly. This is not new to me yet seems to be a surprise to some of the people who claim to know me. Go figure.

The thing that was the cause of all of this was the fact that a co-worker not only took credit for my ideas, (a situation that was almost swallowable) until this chucklehead decided to gloat about it in front of me. Great big smile on his face. Are you kidding me? Not only does he stab me in the back, lie to the powers that be, claim my work and ideas, wander among us, and forget who he has either stolen from or screwed over and/or lied to. Oh my fucking God you complete sack of shit.

All I will divulge here in this entry is that in no uncertain terms and that any friendship that may have been pending (and there wasn’t because he is an opportunistic infantile egomaniac) is no longer an option. I can live with that.

I do need to let you know that we did have words. Some good ones. Choice words. And people were in earshot. I was commended in silent by fellow employees.

As it turns out, if you treat people the way that they treat you they seem to get offended. Go figure. My response is “suck it up Alice”. I’m of the opinion that if you truly do not want an honest answer to the query, then by all means, do not, for God’s sake, do not ask me the question.

The truth hurts most people regardless of what they tell you. Consider the source. Those three words are extremely good advice for the party asking or answering “any” query from anyone about anything. Consider the source. 

Shorts

          Seeing as it’s been a month since my last entry I figured I would submit a few smaller occurrences contained in one post. Most of these are not page worthy in my opinion, but I may be wrong. I have been before. You be the judge. I like to call them quick quips, and may revisit that as a title at a later date so pay attention. There may be a test later.

          I bet you thought that this was going to be another rant about what people are wearing these days. Wrong.

          Let’s jump right in shall we?

          I saw an advert for a television show about this family that had eighteen kids. Oh…My…God…Eighteen kids? Eighteen? Are you kidding me? What does this guy do for a living that they can afford eighteen children?

          Immediate questions that come to mind come streaming to my brain.

          How big is the house? Does each child have their own room or do they stack them to save space?

          How tired of this crap is his wife really?

          Do they have cable T.V.? If not, that may explain the eighteen kids.

          Whatever the reason, stop already. Thanks.

I was at a fast food establishment and noticed a small pickup truck in the parking lot. You know the kind. The trucks produced with the false intent to do the same job as a real truck but with better gas economy. I call them mini trucks. The ones that come with a 4 cylinder motor and claim to haul a half ton load.

Anyway, this truck had a decal on the back window in six inch tall letters that said “No Fat Chicks”. So I waited to see what the owner of the truck looked like. You would too, don’t lie.

As it turns out he was a rather large gentleman. He appeared to weigh about three hundred pounds if he was an ounce. I am underestimating to be polite of course. I watched him shoehorn himself into this vehicle which seemed carnival-like the longer I looked.

Two questions came to mind. Recalling the decal on the rear window I’m puzzled.

Is he worried about the gross vehicle overload from another person in the cab of the truck because he is fat?

Or

Is he worried that there may not be enough room for another person in the cab of the truck because he’s so huge?

I’m sorry Bobby, but it’s spelled “chamomile” pronounced camo-meal.

It does not mean a dehydrated food survival packet that you take with you hunting. But you may be on to something there.

I was watching a hockey game where the defenceman blocked a shot headed for the goal. He took the shot on the side of the knee area where there isn’t much padding. Needless to say he went down.

The announcer stated aloud that “he went down slowly and deliberately”. Seriously? He dropped like a sack of wet cement. Nothing slow or deliberate about it. Are we watching the same game? It’s not like he had time to ask his teammates “can you help me down”.

Until next time.

Complete Brain Fart

          This particular day was a day just like any other. Who the hell am I trying to kid here? It was nothing like any other day at all. Not even in the slightest. It was 5:00 am, -19 degrees Celsius with a wind chill factor that made it feel like -27 degrees, and I’m out, attempting to start my truck in an effort to get myself to work. For my all “Merikin” friends, that’s cold eh! And yes I did bring in my brass monkey the night before.

          I had no reason to believe that my truck would not start as it had been faithfully maintained ever since it fell into my ownership. O.k. that’s not entirely true either. I’m about a month overdue for an oil change but I have a plan, trust me. My point here is that it has never let me down before. Also the fact that I’m a total idiot for completely forgetting one rather important issue in this whole scenario that I’ll get to that in a minute. Back to the build-up.

          Here I am, bundled up like a papoose, fumbling with my keys, attempting to get into my vehicle before my fingers freeze solid, all while juggling the needed work supply type stuff that I carry with me. It’s a small duffle bag. Not important to you what it is but let’s just say that I need it for my job. Oh yes, and my lunch bag. I can never forget my lunch bag. I may forget to bring my teeth but I will never, ever forget my lunch bag. My wife, bless her sole, makes my lunch for me. I will, and have gummed down my lunch because I didn’t have my teeth. Spoiled? Me? No way. Loved? Most definitely. No the lunch bag does not fit in the duffle bag…duh. Tried it already.

          So back to the truck. I shiveringly (just made that word up. Feel free to use it) insert my key in the ignition and turn it. Everything powers up, phew. A good sign, until I hear that dreaded “click” of a starter not turning over. The silliness of it all is that I think (and we all do) if I try turning the key a few more times in a row, at different pause intervals, it will change the result and maybe trick it somehow into starting. There are fewer sounds that are more disheartening in the wee hours of a freezing cold morning. I can’t seem to think of any right now but I’m sure there are some. This is where the deflation gasps of air escape in realization that an alternative mode is needed to transport myself to work. A cab  and 30 bucks later.

          Now we fast forward to the next morning. After a 14 hour shift I’m not dealing with a dead battery, or starter, or relay, or solenoid. So the next morning it is. Not nearly as cold, nor as early. Still a pain in the ass though.

          I gather a few diagnostic items, and even fabricate a couple of jumper wires to bypass the ignition switch and the starter relay. Out to the truck I go and delve whole heartedly into this situation determined to get to the bottom of it all. I narrow down the issue to what could only be two things. But in order to prove or disprove either one, I need a battery boost. I now begin the inevitable scan of the parking lot in an attempt to flag down someone that would be willing to help me out. After all, I have cables in my truck. Then it hits me.

Like a slap in the face I start looking around, as if I was sure I was being filmed, to see if there is anyone who has noticed just how stupid of an episode this has become. How could I have forgotten the most important factor in solving this dilemma?

I promptly packed up my tools, embarrassingly tucked my tail between my legs, went back inside, and called the service number on the CAA roadside assistance membership that I forgot that I had all along. Major brain fart. Smack myself in the forehead kind of realization.

          Just to make a long story a bit longer, the service truck shows up and boosts my truck to get it running. Then he goes further and performs a complete battery and electrical diagnostic, which takes about 10 minutes, that determines there is a power drain on my battery. Further investigation reveals that it seems to be a failed adapter module for the aftermarket CD / DVD player that I had installed. Needless to say that it took all of about twenty minutes to reinstall the original CD player. Problem solved.

          Kudos to the gentleman that showed up to go above and beyond just giving me a boost. If he hadn’t, the problem would have persisted. Rest assured that your employer has already been made aware of your job well done.

As for me? The CAA membership just paid for itself even though I’m an idiot.