Poor Raoul, or How I Rediscovered My Snark

I was beginning to worry that it was gone forever.  You know, that edge, that hostile piece of your reply which impels the listener to wonder just what part of New York you had lived in during your formative years.  The coarse, rough edge,the what IS your problem sense of entitlement because it's not that much that I'm asking.... just DO YOUR JOB in a timely, intelligent, thoughtful manner which does not insult my intelligence.

I'd lost that piece of myself after getting shot.  Nothing seemed to be worth getting that het up about.  The sun came up and I was here to see it - by definition it was a good day.  I worried a bit.  I fretted on occasion.  I never got pissed. It was never worth the effort.  Being content was simpler and felt better. I didn't need the snark.

Not until today.  Not until Walgreens By Mail, which is now called something else, decided to get in my way.  Not until my mental health was unhealthy because my prescription for Sertraline was not where it was supposed to be.  That is to say, it was not in my mailbox.  It is lost in fill-it-by-mail-purgatory, I suppose.  The only thing I know for sure is that my credit card has been charged for both the prescription and the 2 business day delivery surcharge.  Yes,  they made sure they got their money.

I am confused about a great many things pertaining to this situation.  For example, I have a message in my Walgreens inbox which is dated October 20, 2011.  To the best of my knowledge, that date is still in the future.  Yet Walgreens is somehow able to tell me that my credit card cannot be charged on that date. I wonder if, perhaps, my bank is smarter than my pharmacy-by-mail and recognizes that the 20th has a ways to go before it arrives.  As I said, I'm confused.

There's also the fact that I received an email telling me that my prescription had been sent by the United States Postal Service on Monday, October 10. That was Columbus Day, celebrated here in the USofA by the suspension of postal service.  And yet, somehow, my pills were sent on their way when no one was working.  More confusion.

Two business day delivery was guaranteed after I'd forked over $10.95. Sent on Monday, not a business day, that would mean Wednesday, today, is the second day and the pills should have been in my mailbox.  When they weren't, I called Walgreens By Mail's new name and listened to the automated system tell me that the pills had been shipped by the USPS on Monday (Columbus Day, remember?) and would be delivered to my home on the 17th.

Definitely not two business day delivery.

I needed to speak to a human.  That option was not available on the automated menu.  And there was nothing but the automated menu. Being a creative soul, I began saying HELP into the mouthpiece.  When that brought nothing I began to hit the Operator key over and over again; nothing.  Thanks to nothing I can figure out, the automaton said that it was time to get some help and we began to wait.

6 minutes..... 18 minutes...... loud music precluding putting the phone on speaker so I had it attached to my ear...... 24 minutes and I took out my right hearing aid to lessen the pain..... and then, 30 some minutes later Raoul had the misfortune to say hello to me.

Poor Raoul.  He's a nice guy.  In fact, he's the only positive piece of this whole situation.  But I was peeved and I was tired and I was in the right and the medication in question is designed to keep me on an even keel and it was not here.  The situation is getting kinda perilous.

It took me a moment to catch my breath; Raoul had to ask if I were there.  YES, I was there and if I could wait for (pause to look at the timer on the phone) 34 minutes to get a human he could and at that moment I realized that I was back.

The real me.  The snarky New York heathen I'd thought vanished in the maelstrom of January and beyond was there, right on the tip of my tongue.  For a moment, it felt really really good.

But while we'd been waiting, listening to noise with a pattern, TBG began to feel sorry for the person who would eventually answer the phone.  The longer I waited, the nuttier I became.  Waiting gave me time to consider that nuttiness and that's where I was when Raoul, poor Raoul, wondered if I were really there.

I re-identified myself (of course, even though I'd done it digitally at the beginning of the call lo those many minutes ago) and described the problem and asked that the extra fast that wasn't so fast fee be refunded and he agreed and was writing up the ticket and though he couldn't cc me or call me or email me directly on the notes he was sending to Accounting but if I would be patient I could have a reference number.  Of course, he couldn't give me the number until he filled out his forms.... and so I waited.

I waited.  And waited.  And then I got pissed.  Seriously and completely and totally furious with a company dealing with my health making me crazy, hiring a nice young man and making it impossible for him to do his job and leave me a happy customer.  So I took some deep breaths and got the Reference Number and thanked Raoul for doing a difficult job well.

To his credit, he never said a bad word about his employer.  He really did listen to what I said and he didn't ask a stupid or unnecessary questions.

But back to the snark.  Raoul told me that the drugs would be at my house tomorrow. How he knows, I do not know.  The fact that he was so certain amused me and annoyed me and gave me a few moments of true, New York, down and dirty attitude.  Of course he has no idea where they are or when they'll be here.  No one does.  It's funny, in a bad business kind of way.

And it's kinda nice to find something good in all this...... to find that I am not as different as I'd feared I'd be.  My old self is still in there, pushing at edges and absurdities and making me smile in a nasty sort of way.

It's also kinda nice that the softer me has tempered the poky pieces