PLEASE MAY I TALK TO A REAL PERSON?

Saturday morning and it looks like its going to be another beautiful fall day. I am waiting for nature to start painting her colors on the leaves and the world will come alive. Nobody paints like God and Mother nature. Oh its our family's Little Hero's Birthday today. Malachi is two. Happy Birthday Little Man, we love you.

Now I gripe all the time about people who always complain that life has served them up a real sour plate. But this week has surely caused me to bite my tongue a time or two. We lost "H", our radiator on the car went out, then yesterday our checks didn't come in. Okay Karma, ease up a little okay.

I called Social Security to make sure both of our checks had been mailed. Oh, goody, an automated voice. I hate that so much. They give you a menu ten miles long to choose from. Guess what nothing they mention is what you need. Give me a break. Give me a live person who may at least half way know what I am talking about, Please.

I would punch "O" for an operator. The line would ring. A voice would say all operators busy, call back. Click the line goes dead. For 45 minutes the automated person and I played this game. Then suddnelly after all this time the automated, imitation person came on saying "All offices are closed till Monday morning." Jeez!

I never talked to anyone. My head hurt, my blood pressure was up and I wanted to cry, "Why me." Then I realized, "Why not me." I advise everyone, "Buck up, its only life." But I sure wasn't bucking. Not where anyone could see anyway. Its much easier to give the advice than to mtake it, huh?

So anyone that has went through the automated routine knows full well what I am talking about. Give me back the days when someone came on the line and truly communicated with you. But alas I think those days are gone forever. Can you believe I can remember back in the days when you made a telephone call a real live person said, "Number please." Unbelievable, right? So goes progress.

So with empty pockets I make my way through the streets of Blogland. Its a good thing they don't charge to get in here. If I had a hat I'd take it off in hopes someone would put pennies in it. I make my way to the outskirts, so that means I'm outta here.