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10:56 a.m. - 2004-12-05 Misses ScroogeI don't know if it is me or Midtown Pallet. I think I have a statement in my profile to the effect that really odd people seem to be attracted to me so I guess it is not surprising that I would find a job with a company that really odd people are attracted to also. I wrote an entry once on the Halloween party I threw where 90 percent of the guests turned out to be retarded people ....this is pretty much a constant in my life and I have learned to accept it. I also don't throw parties anymore. Friday I was furiously trying to catch up on every little detail at work, not wanting to leave any stone unturned. My bosses will leave me a mess as it is while I am on vacation and I wanted to leave things as clean as possible. Fridays are always busy and it didn't help that Chander was calling me every hour ORDERING me (he doesn't ask nicely or ask if you CAN do something...he barks out an order in a snappy, bitchy hindu accent and expects that the work WILL be done...so far I haven't disappointed him.) Anyway, the last thing I needed was some oddball to call and take me from my tight schedule. The phone rang. "Midtown Pallet, can I help you?" I asked with my usual professional voice. "Do you sell pallets to private people?" a quivering old sounding female voice on the other end begged. "Sure we do, some people need them to put in their basements to stack stuff on and keep the damp off. We can set you up with something for about $ 5.00 each if you want to come and pick it up." I said. "Well, I need it to put my dog house on and I need it delivered." "Well, we can't deliver one pallet maam, we don't deliver less than 100 and even if we did it is illegal to take a semi tractor trailer into a residential area." I explained. The old lady's tone turned bitchy and whiny. "Listen, young lady, I am 95 years old and I need someone to bring me a pallet NOW." I asked her where she lived figuring that she was a local lady and one of the guys with a pickup truck could swing by her place and drop off a pallet to keep her doggy dry. When she said she lived in St. Charles, I knew that would be impossible. It is 45 minute drive in bad traffic and no one here lives in that direction. "I'm sure you could probably get a friend or relative to come get a pallet for you." I suggested. "I don't have freinds or relatives." she snapped. I ignored her comment and said, "well, maybe you could get someone to go by one of the factory areas and see if they have pallets out by their garbage. If you go in the office and ask, they will probably let you have one." Again she barked, "No, they won't, I asked and they won't deliver either...no one will help me, what am I supposed to do. Maybe I could put some sticks of wood under the doghouse, do you think that would work?" "Sure", I said, "or bricks would work too." This really got her anger up. "Now where am I going to get bricks Einstein?" I ignored her comment and went on speaking nice to her. "Listen, why don't you call the Village of St. Charles and explain your situation to them. I am sure they have a social services person who will be glad to find a volunteer to help you out." "No, they won't...I am a renter...no one cares about renters...no one cares about old ladies and no one cares about me." Her tone was getting nastier and bitchier. "It is OK if you are a renter, they will help you as long as you live in St. Charles....just call and ask for a social services department or explain that you are a senior citizin living alone and need help with something." "They don't have one of those departments." "Yes they do...all villages have them." "Well, St. Charles don't...they don't care...you don't care and no one cares...I guess I'll just have go steal a pallet, what do you think of that?" she said in a threatening manner. "I guess you will." I agreed with her. The other phone line started to ring. "I have to go now maam....hope you find a solution and have a Merry Christmas." "BAH!!!" she barked. "No wonder you have no friends or family", I thought. "How wonderful that at 95 you are still so independant, and how sad that you are alone." P. I. Yarnsmith
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