Well, I can't stand it anymore and must vent. I am having a particularly frustrating few weeks and must put a voice to my various beefs that I'm harboring. Hence the title.
Our ward congregation helps out the community in many wonderful ways. One way is to partner up with other churches in the community to help feed homeless and way under-privileged families in our city. Totally awesome and well-meaning. So it's our turn this month. Normally, we are assigned the lovely menu item of pasta as our "theme" or whatever for the evening. So in Relief Society, a sign-up goes around and you can choose to bring the main pasta dish, salad/rolls, or dessert. It is announced to us ladies that although it's pasta night, to please try to be more creative than lasagne since the patrons of the FREE dinner club are getting "tired" of lasagne and would prefer something different this time around. WHAT??? I am new to Bozeman and new to this ward and, guess what, I didn't sign up and I probably won't the next time around! A friend sitting next to me said out loud, "How about vegetable lasagne?" at which point I laughed out loud. Unbelievably ungrateful and shocking to think that people who are so desperate for a meal actually are probably not desperate and are being choose-y and whiny about the food handed to them.
What would Jesus had told the 5,000 if they had asked him, "Do you have anything else besides loaves and fishes? We're tired of that. Do you have any lamb or fresh fruit?"
Oh, I'm charitable. I'm happy to give. Happy to sacrifice. Happy to serve. But I have a hard time with being a doormat, too. Perhaps I need to be more Christlike in my efforts; humble myself and be less proud.
My second beef comes directly from Lenscrafters. Jason and I have spent tons and tons of money at this store buying Jacob his glasses every year or so. His glasses cost easily $3- to $400 a pop. They are never done in under an hour because he wears bifocals, which means they have to be sent out to a very special lab somewhere in the middle of nowhere. It usually takes ten to 14 days to receive the glasses back in their tiny store. Then we have to drive back and do the fitting, etc., etc. It's an endless, back-breaking fiasco. We ordered the glasses a week before Spring Break and I figured they would come in whilst we were away and we would have a message on our phone saying they had come in. Well, when we returned home, no message and another week goes by before I decide to call the store. At that point it had been well over 14 days.
Me: Hi, I'm Diana Blaser, and I'm calling about my son's glasses that should've been in by now. And please let me just express my love to you and undying affection towards your glorious store. It's an absolute honor to be your customer and unload my checking account into your hands periodically. (I added the last part. I'm going for maximum sarcasm here.)
Lady On The Phone: Oh, let me check to see if they've come in.
(What seems like ten minutes later of complete silence...)
Lady On The Phone: Thanks for holding. Yes, we have Jacob's glasses here and we tried calling you but it was the wrong number."
Me: Well, what number do you have?
(She proceeds to tell me my home telephone number in Bozeman. BUT WITH MY TEXAS AREA CODE.)
I was so mad. So you can't reach the customer. Did you even try to use a Montana area code with that telephone number there? Did you make any attempt to find me or reach out to me otherwise? Did you look into your computer for thirty seconds to see if there was an additional phone number or e-mail address where I could be reached? Did you attempt to send me a postcard in the mail indicating that you were trying to reach me and apparently our phone number is incorrect? Did you do anything? No. They did not do anything.
Which leads me to my third and final beef which is in the same realm of my second beef. I took Jimmy and Christie to the doctor's last month because of bad colds/ear infections and that kind of excitement that thrills mothers everywhere. They took my insurance card to make a copy and never returned it to me because I am brainless and apparently didn't ask for it back. I guess I was supposed to ask for it back instead of just assuming that the girl behind the desk would kindly find me and return it to me.
So today -- a month later -- I'm looking in my wallet for the kids' insurance card because I have to fill out paperwork for Jimmy to go to Day Camp with the other darling Cub Scouts next month and I have to have it all turned in TONIGHT. So I'm looking around my wallet and purse. No insurance card. Well, where is it? So I'm remembering that the last place I used it was at the pediatrician's office. So I make the phone call.
Me: Hello. My name is Diana Blaser and I'm wondering if I left behind my children's insurance card when we visited your fine establishment over a month ago and I'm also wondering why someone could not have made a 20-second phone call alerting me of that fact?
Turns out I had left it there but no one bothered to inform me.
So tonight as I write this, I'm asking myself: "Am I losing my mind or has common courtesy completely disappeared? How about manners? Where are those? Integrity? ha ha ha ha -- laughable.
