Tina, Home Builder Sales Representative: "Hi, how may I help you?”
All eager and ready to sell me a new home!
Me: “Well, I’m hoping you can help me get my mail. I live at _____, just around the corner. I and my husband each have a key and we have tried EVERY mail box but our keys don’t open any of them. Here’s the culprit, does this look like the mail box keys you issue.”
“Hmm, yes, but it doesn’t work? Which house do you live in?”
I point it out on her map.
“Oh, yes, that used to be a different address number, then it changed, then I think it changed again, but now it’s what it is.”
“Right… um o.k. But, what mail box number am I? I’ve tried them all, our keys do not open any of them.”
“Really, goodness, that’s not good.”
“Nope, sure isn’t. So…”
“Well, you’ll need to contact the Post Office since they actually own the mail boxes. Our contact there is Candy, here’s her number.”
Tina hands me her business card with Candy’s number hand written on the back. I walk home. I try calling the number. NO answer. No voice mail. Nada. I give Erik the low down that night. The next day he gets through to Candy. Candy explains that we have mail box number 8. Eight is great, but only if the damn thing works. Candy goes on to explain that if that doesn’t do the trick have the home builder call her directly.
We try both number 8 mail boxes. Our keys don’t work in either. Several days later I contact the home builder and relive the saga. Nothing happens.
Two more days later I walk over to the sales office, again. I speak to a different Sales Rep. She says, “Sorry your key doesn’t work. You’ll have to contact the Post Office.”
“Right, already did that. I was here last week and spoke with Tina about this.”
“Tina now works at a different location.”
Bully for her. I want my freakin’ mail.
“How nice. Anyway, she gave a contact at the Post Office, Candy. My husband spoke to Candy and explained the issue. Candy told us mail box 8 was for our address. I’ve tried both number 8 mail boxes and neither of them open with this key. I spoke with Pat M. of Home Builders and he’s been wonderful, very helpful. He said he’d speak to someone in the office about this. I guess you since Tina is at a different location.”
"Yes, Pat is very nice. Hmm, well I'll call him."
No answer.
“I’ll continue to try Pat and find out from him what he knows, then I’ll call you. O.k.? What’s your number?”
I give her my number and walk home.
Short while later my phone rings. It’s the new Sales Rep. “I spoke to Pat. He asked where you got the keys from.”
“From my landlord. Mr. ______”
“Mr.___, how is that spelled?”
“Landlord, L-a-n-d-l-o-r-d.”
“Oh I don’t know who that is, he is not in our files.”
“O.k. try Mr. Other Landlord. O-t-h-e-r L-a-n-d-l-o-r-d.”
“Oh yes, he’s in our files. I will call him and ask if he knows who provided him with the mail box keys and why don’t you try Mr. Landlord. Hopefully between the two of them we’ll figure out where the keys came from.”
Swell, I get to add another person to this very exciting equation. How fun. Honestly I don’t care where the stupid keys came from, all I know is they don’t work. I want working keys.
I don't know how he keeps doing it but every time a special event comes up (anniversary, birthday, etc.) the hubby presents me with a wonderful gift. Typically it is something that months and months ago I commented on. Like yesterday's birthday present was a kit that's organized for all my beading supplies, includes a special tray, and a zippered pouch for handy-dandy tools that he also procured: various pliers, wire cutters, etc.
He also prepared a luscious dinner of my choosing: lemon crepes. His lemon crepes are the best on the planet, one of my very favorite dishes he makes. Though it’s a tough call since everything he makes is wonderful. I’m one lucky gal to be married to not only my best friend, but such an incredible human being. He listens, he understands, he’s patient, thoughtful, considerate, “Polite,” loving, kind, caring, sensitive, witty, charming, funny, adorable, and so much more.
