Seventy Six Trombones

Well it’s Friday. I’m supposed to have Fridays off but here I am in the office waiting for phone calls. I called up Vivek and told him that I was in and waiting to hear from Raj in Pennsylvania.

Vivek made a comment that this job is mine if I want it and I told him I did. I also told him that I think I would be good at it. Basically I would be a salesman. Vivek seemed surprised at my confidence, then made a comment that it would help if I wouldn’t be as moody as I’ve been for the past couple of weeks.

Well as I mentioned the other the other day I was working on it. I’m doing my best to smile as I pick up and throw out used tissues, and to ignore the conservative loud mouths going on a few feet away from my desk.

I’m sure it was inadvertent but Vivek’s words had an undermining effect. But I can’t do anything until I hear from Raj and then ask Vivek or his business partner or Abby and so far they haven’t called despite my attempts to reach them.

And that is making me feel depressed. I did have some plans for fun and whatnot today but those fell by the wayside when I found myself having to come into the office without pay, and also when I found out that Bill was not going to work and was planning on being around the apartment.

That made it just as well that I was going to work. Nothing against Bill of course, but lately I’ve been feeling a bit unmoored.

My gmail box is near full so I’ve been going back and deleting just about everything, going as far back as 2005. In going that far back I’ve found some fun things and some sad things. 2005 was when Bill and I had a falling out and there are some pictures that he had taken to perhaps boost up our relations.

They didn’t have the desired effect. In fact there was little or no desire to be had. 4 years later, it still leaves me bitter.

It’s a beautiful day outside and once again, I ain’t feeling it. Why? because I’ve been sitting in a cube in my office waiting to hear from people who’ve insisted that getting in touch with me is so very important.

Well I’ve left a few messages for these people and haven’t heard a word. The day just gets better from there.

I come home all gloomy Gus, and find 2 packages at my door with my name on it. I ordered some cigars the other day but these did not seem too heavy. Nevertheless, my name was on the packages and I brought them upstairs and opened them.

One package contained weight loss diet supplements, the other had two bottles of collagen for face and body. I didn’t order either of these.

I call up my bank after pulling up my account on the computer and there were 4 charges to my bank card, all done on Monday, April 20, within minutes of each other.

The bank does what they can on the phone and suggest that I go to a branch and cancel my card and have the charges disputed.

I do that and and sit with Antoinette who does what she can, cancels my card and gives me forms with the wrong apartment number. I come home and call these companies. 3 of them seemed understanding and cancelled, the 4th had a dick named Tou in customer service.

They claim that someone must have stolen my card. I ask them how often does someone have a card stolen and have products shipped to the card holder. They tell me they can’t explain the criminal mind.

This guy Tou tells me I have to get a police report and send it in. Once I get off the phone with this idiot, I walk down to the police station and ask to file a police report.

The officer behind the desk tells me they could give me a case number but I wouldn’t be able to get a copy of the report until Monday.

Right now I’m fit to be tied. I really hoped to talk to someone, and with all the numbers in my cellphone, there was no one I could talk to.

Everyone has their own problems and more than likely don’t want to hear about mine.

And I could be writing more but I’m a pussy. I censor myself when I write this blog. And once again I’m leaving it at that.

One thought on “Seventy Six Trombones

Leave a Reply