A few months back, I had to call my local post office regarding a package I was awaiting. For some reason — I guess the truck driver just doesn’t feel like doing her job — the tracking system always says that a notice was left, but there never is actually any such notice. So this morning, I called the post office to find out when / how I am supposed to pick up my package, if I don’t have the notice required to do so.
I got the same employee as last time. And, hard as it may be to believe, she was an even bigger bitch than she had been previously.
All I wanted to know was where my package was, because if it was in the post office — like the system claimed — then I would have gone to pick it up. She immediately started to yell at me that she couldn’t call the driver, and that it would be delivered today — except I have no idea how she could have told me this for certain, since she never even gave me the opportunity to provide the tracking number! Instead, she snapped, “You are not hearing me, so I’m going to put you on hold!” This happened twice. Which would explain why it took me an hour to get past the busy signal; she was probably doing that to everyone all morning. Nevertheless, if I were the crying type, she would have brought me to tears.
As a general rule, I am very polite with customer service representatives. But I’ve had it with this individual. When she came back after putting me on hold the second time and started to rant and rail, “Well, what do you want me to do?! There’s nothing more I can tell you,” I told her that what I wanted was for her to stop being so rude and obnoxious, because I had done absolutely nothing to warrant her abuse.
And then I hung up on her. And filed a complaint.
No thanks to her, I did eventually get my package. In case you are wondering why I am not reading the books I so desperately needed, it’s because I’m never going to finish in time anyway, so I may as well just do it leisurely over the next couple of days. Oh, and it kind of helps that I am idiot — one of the books is a trilogy, and I need to read all three parts, but I brilliantly only ordered the first volume. So I have less to read, if I want to look at it optimistically.
The future of the acupuncture clinic is still up in the air. I quote: They haven’t told me I’m unwelcome here, so I guess I’ll keep coming until they tell me otherwise. Hmmm.
My nutritionist appointment was … frustrating. I wasn’t “fired,” so I guess that’s good. But holidays always pose a huge challenge for me.
The most difficult part, I think, is the fact that I’m supposed to act like it isn’t difficult. I’m admittedly hopelessly confused when it comes to such things, but I so often find myself in a situation where I know exactly how to eradicate the anxiety, even if I “shouldn’t” … for example, my mom bought mostly regular challah, but she bought one whole wheat challah for me. Which is a lovely gesture, except that because of lechem mishneh, I have to eat the challah that my dad cuts into first. Double anxiety: it’s made with white flour; and if I have that, why would I want more challah afterward?! This is, by the way, me being completely irrational, because I can just take a crumb of that. But it doesn’t take very much to send me into a panic!
It isn’t a source of pride to me that I am perfectly capable of leading people to believe I’ve eaten something when I actually haven’t. If I allow my parents to think that I’ve eaten “their” challah, without actually doing so, I will A) quiet my anxiety, and B) quiet the parental badgering. But that’s a short-term quiet, because as much as I hate them, holidays will come up. Again and again and again. Going through them by lying to others — and, essentially, to myself — is not the way to do it. So there’s my challenge to myself: to stop catastrophizing and freaking out over every tiny thing.
That’s actually not quite as simple as it sounds. Despite the fact that it will probably just be the four of us — my parents, my brother and me — my mom has made enough food for at least twenty people. Many of these are things that I like, or once liked, and that scare me to death because it feels like if I so much as think about eating it, I am going to inhale the entire thing by myself in one sitting. I would love to quit being so black-and-white, and think that it’s possible to eat something in moderation and not freak out over it.
There are two Israeli girls (one of them is my cousins’ neighbor in Israel, which is how they wound up here) are staying in my house for the month. (They thought I was their age; they are eighteen. I know I look young, but hello, there’s a limit!!) I’ve already had to hide all of my cereal. But I’m kind of running out of hiding places! And someone finished my Nana’s cookie bars last week; I recently discovered that I really like them frozen, so I’ve been trying to buy more, but I can’t find them anywhere. Figures. Having guests rocks… it’s so much fun to feel like an intruder in your own house!
And, with that, I will shut up (because believe me, I could go on and on and on and on!) — I’m off to face the new year.
Have a great end to your week / weekend!
“An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.”