You know how little things can just get your feathers ruffled? Okay, neither do I. However, I was a bit dismayed to find my old-fashioned Sunday morning newspaper (which I can physically touch) unavailable. Once again. The second Sunday in a row where I was forced to live without the NYT and LA Times puzzles-of-the-week. (The news is already old, but the puzzles aren’t!)
Fortunately, my dear husband printed copies from our electronic subscription, but it’s not the same. It requires intensified reading glasses to finish, and the paper on which I write isn’t as great as newsprint. Alas, I called ‘Customer Service,’ ready to feign ruffled feathers and use my superb acting skills. (Really. I used to be an actress.)
I had the best time on the phone with the woman in charge of complaints. When she asked how she could help, I was tempted to give her a laundry list of household tasks I needed finishing, but instead I just briefly told her I knew my problem wasn’t her fault, but I sure wished it could be resolved. We talked about kids, how to keep them responsible, how summers are difficult when we all get a little lazier, how it would be nice if things just ran the way they were supposed to. We were laughing at the end of the call, and I received a credit for the paper.
What a delightful, small adversity to announce the week!