Horray for Wednesday

And not just because it's pub quiz night, but because it means Tuesday is over. Today did not go well.

My first stop was a delivery of a bed frame to waaaay out in the middle of nowhere. When I got out there I discovered that the address I had been given was wrong. I called up the patient's daughter and she spelled the street for me and also gave me their apartment number. Helpful information to have. Unfortunately I still couldn't find it so I called her again and she grudgingly gave me directions. The reason I couldn't find it was that customer service gave me the wrong street, no apartment number, and had me in the city 9 miles too far down the road.

Once I got to the place I had to lug 250 pounds of bed (in more than 1 trip, I'm not that strong) into an apartment that smelled as though somebody had been continuously letting go of a fart since the beginning of the universe. And not only was the apartment maliciously odorous but it was also full of junk. It's very difficult to lug heavy pieces of bed-shaped steel over junk. And it kills your sense accomplishment when you discover that the room in which the bed is supposed to be placed is already full of an old and particularly nasty hospital bed. The daughter and I fixed that problem by lugging the disgusting thing out into the living room.

During all of this lugging there was a large, strapping, and seemingly capable guy who observed the goings on from the most irritating spot he could find. If I was trying to move the new bed into the room, he'd stand in the doorway so I'd have to squeeze by. If I was trying to weave between the patient in his wheelchair, the blasting TV, and the old hospital bed, he would set himself up as yet another obstacle to crossing the living room. Mr. Helpful I think his name was.

The best part, my favorite part, was when I was trying to put the two halves of the new bed together and I had to move stuff to make room. I'm okay with moving stuff. It doesn't bother me ... usually. But today I had to move a half gallon glass jar full of hypodermic needles. A house just isn't home without one.

To top off this particular delivery, the moment I was ready to get the 20 pages of paperwork signed was the same moment that this lady's kids needed to be picked up. Mr. Helpful, sensing that he could be more irritating elsewhere, disappeared leaving me to wait around until the lady could go get her kids and come back.

I hate customers.

That's not true. My last delivery of the day was to a guy who had to type everything to me. He'd tap away at his keyboard and then press the talk button and a little computer voice would let me know what he had typed. Since TTS engines aren't perfect he had to spell some things phonetically to get them to sound right. He got a big smile on his face when he typed that I should contact his nurse at hoss piss. I liked him.

I did not, however enjoy trying to find him. Customer service paged me with all his information: Name, mattress type, address, and phone number. They got the type of mattress right. That was it. The only reason I had any luck finding him at all was that I happen to have the number to hospice memorized.

So I say again: Hooray for Wednesday.