After venting yesterday, I searched endlessly for a comparable witch dress and found none that were not at least twice as expensive. The company wanting to expedite things did not answer my reply, if they even read it.
I will just claw my way through all the stuff that gets stowed away in my sewing room and make something. I really don't want to, but we don't always get what we want, now, do we?
During my stroll through numerous sites, I answered many phone calls. My "last chance" to have my student loans taken care of has apparently slipped by once again. And three other calls from hotels telling me that I am to be considered one of their premium customers and they would like to reward me with a free vacation. And customers calling to make reservations. We are unusually busy for this time of year.
My favorite calls for reservations are those people who know what they are doing. They give me the specifics and I check to see if I can accommodate them and they are ready with a credit card to complete the transaction. Then there are those who want to ask me a dozen questions and then when I tell them I can give them what they want, they tell me they have to check with the rest of the people coming and get back to me. These calls will gobble up a big portion of my day. All of the questions can usually be answered from the web site and leave me in a somewhat foul mood, having been interrupted for up to 30 minutes sometimes. No, I am not kidding.
Let's not forget those who want to make a reservation and then want me to get a calendar so they can decide the dates they want. They seem to want to include me and my recommendations about their outing, acting like my opinion matters. When the time finally arrives to put the event on paper, so to speak, they have to go hunt down a credit card. Maybe I need to take advantage of my premium status at the Marriot and have a vacation my self.
But, there are times when I get a call that is unique and note worthy. That honor goes to the man who called me yesterday. He knew what he wanted and gave me the date and his particulars with no prompting. When I told him I needed a credit card, he told me it would take a second to get it out of his wallet BECAUSE HE WAS DRIVING. I suggested that he call me back when he reached a stopping point, that I would be okay to wait for that information. "Oh, it's okay, I don't mind," says the driver, "I do this all the time."
Before I could harness my tongue, I said, "Well, perhaps you should reconsider this habit, as I am sure the other drivers on the road might mind." He thought this was funny. I can be funny. I wasn't being funny. He could have an accident and even kill someone because he thinks it is cool to handle phone business while driving. I mind.