This is going to be a race between me and my computer battery. My charger has a break in the wire and won’t work unless I hold it in a certain position. I can’t do that and type. They didn’t have one in stock at Best Buy and they told me to buy it off Amazon. I ordered it Thursday. It should have come today. I checked and it’s coming tomorrow. I will try and see if I can tape it in place but I’ll try and write this first. Part of what I’m going to write about is issues with the USPS. I am not confident that I’ll get it by tomorrow and as Monday is a holiday I wouldn’t get it till Tuesday. It seemed stranger that I was getting a USPS delivery on Sunday but I called Amazon and was told that they do that. So now I have to race to write about two days. I should have done this last night.
On Friday I went to an ultimate home game, No Fuss and Feathers Traveling All-Stars and Motor Kings at Rockwood Music Hall Stage 3. A band made up of four good friends, at the venue where I am often greeted by name, and an audience filled with friends. Too bad my psyche didn’t know this. I had a bad anxiety attack most of the show. It’s the kind that nobody would notice if I didn’t tell them but my heart was racing and I had that feeling in the pit of my stomach. Just keep that as background information, it doesn’t affect what happens but it had a huge effect on my subjective experience. I’m sharing this with you as people are often unaware that you can have anxiety even under the best of circumstances. Sometimes it just happens and this was the best of circumstances.
My adventures started on my trip to Rockwood. That’s extraordinarily easy, just the D train to the F and takes me about 50 minutes. I expected to get there at 8 for an 8:30 show. I wanted maximal pre-show socializing. That would have been what happened if I hadn’t been exposed to gold kryptonite. That’s the one that removes a Kryptonian’s superpowers. My superpower is the ability to fall asleep on public transit and wake up one stop before the one I need. I depend on that and normally nap on the subway. You can see where this is leading; I woke up just as the doors of the D train closed at Grand Street, the last stop in Manhattan. The next stop is a long way off, Atlantic Terminal in Brooklyn. The train has to cross the Manhattan Bridge. I got to Brooklyn, went to the other side of the tracks and waiting for the next train. The upshot was that instead of arriving half an hour early, I was a few minutes late and arrived halfway through the first song.
I was able to find a seat on the aisle with Gene & Isabel. That was perfect as I haven’t seen them in a while. Oddly I couldn’t see most of the people I knew. It was dark. I’m blind, and I’m an idiot. Coco heard me and I heard but didn’t see Coco. I’m always easy to spot as I heckle. I prefer to think of it as the unscripted part of the act. Somebody has to keep Jay in line. When the stage banter goes off the rails as much as it does at an NFF show I’m not sure if anything that isn’t insulting counts as heckling. There was a discussion of vegan elves. Not elves that don’t eat meat but whether or not vegans can eat elves. I think they might be a fungus. I had no part in that, that was all by the people in the band. This is what happens when they let my friends get together on stage. It just hit me, they are the closest thing ever to Trainwreck with Clowns, the Comedia del Arte busking duo I had with Carey. It consisted of nothing but us being silly between songs. We were purer that NFF, we were silly during the songs too. NFF’s music is great. They don’t realize that’s a distraction from the insanity. I’m quite aware that some people think I have this backward. Some people also believe in trickle down economics. Doesn’t make it right.
So here’s the thing, even when you are wound tighter than a mainspring it’s well nigh impossible to not enjoy a No Fuss and Feathers show. You got great songwriters, amazing singers, gifted musicians, loads of talent, and then there’s Jay. He figured out how to be the only guy in the band so deserves to get picked on by those less fortunate.
Let’s see if I can do the run down of the people I know who were there. This will be tough as I can’t use my usual method of organizing people by where they were sitting. I couldn’t see them. I’ll use that method for those that came to post-concert soiree. There was Elisa & Jon, Gene & Isabel, Fred, and am I really forgetting everyone else? Afraid so. But now prepare to be amazed as I go around the table at the diner in order, starting from my left and progressing clockwise. Coco, Carol, Jeff, Bruce, Carolann, Karyn, Allison, Allison’s cousin? Niece? Anna, who didn’t have a mouse dancing on her hand (why I said that), Ina May, Katherine, and a banana. I guess I need to explain the fruit. When Coco wanted to check if everyone were there she asked, “Do we have Abe and Anna?” Say that quickly and all will be revealed. I’m still laughing over it.
My anxiety passed while I was there. This might just be time, it might be the company, and it might be because of the dinner; its name is “The Remedy.” I told my therapist that she should set up business there. She’ll make out like a bandit; the food is great and everyone in New York needs a therapist.
On Sunday I went to Katherine’s birthday party; Thursday was her actual birthday. They didn’t bring a cake but an arrangement of strawberries with a candle in them. I should have gotten a picture.
After the show I experienced why I moved to Brooklyn. Almost everyone headed down to the County of Kings. I did have company for two stops on the subway with Ina May. I got off at West 4th to switch to the D. When I got here I found Allison on the platform. She had left earlier. Why was she there? She too went to switch from the F to the D but the D wasn’t running south of 34th street. It’s always something We switched to the A to take us to 59th. I was able to get the D there and that was Allison’s stop. Unfortunate for Allison but lucky for me as go to sit with friends for part of my ride home.
Now on to Friday. That’s therapy. I got a call from physical therapy that my insurance approved six more sessions. I didn’t have time to go before therapy but hoped to afterward. Before therapy I went to the post office. I had another adventure with the USPS. I had ordered a water bottle form Amazon. I always lose my bottles. It was supposed to be delivered on Wednesday. Instead I got a pink slip that they didn’t deliver it with no explanation of why. I went through Amazon and then the Post Office and had them redeliver it on Thursday with the specific instruction to leave it at my door if no one was home. I didn’t get it. I didn’t even get a note saying they tried. I got a text saying it wasn’t delivered. I called Amazon; they called the Post Office. We arranged for me to pick it up the post office. That’s not far from the Metro North station. I was told to bring the pink slip and ID. I got there and there was one person working and a fairly long line. I had left myself over half an hour to get the package. That was not enough After 20 minutes I had gotten maybe half the way to the front of the line. It went very slowly. I had to leave to make my train. That meant going back after therapy and doing that instead of PT.
Now I was angrier at the post office and decided to follow up and call customer service. I was told by someone at the post office that they supervise the different offices and were the ones to report problems with a branch to. I had been given the number last time I had a problem. This time I called, was put on hold, and it took 37 minutes for someone to answer. I was on my trip to Harrison for therapy so I had time for this. When the guy answered he said, “who are you on hold for?” Isn’t that a great system? I told him I had no idea, I was just told I was being put on hold. That was the extant of my conversation. He then asked for my case number. Case number? Nobody told me about a case number. I told him I didn’t have one and that was it. He would listen no more. He said, “this is customer service, we need a case number.” I think “Customer Service” doesn’t mean what he thinks it means. I had already told him I had been on hold for 37 minutes. Made no difference to him. I asked how I could get a case number. He rapidly said an 800 number. I asked if I would have to wait for 37 minutes again when I called. He said the very useful, “I don’t know.” I asked if he could just get the case number for me so I wouldn’t have to wait again. He said, “I don’t know what you mean ma’am.” I pulled my difficult person on the phone trick and said sharply, “I am not a woman, I’m a man.” It puts people on the defensive. Unfortunately it only works when the other person has at least a shred of empathy. We had some more back and forth and he just wouldn’t help me. Then he called me Ma’am again. At this point I knew I was getting nowhere and asked him if he were too stupid too know he difference between a man and a woman. He put me back on hold. I hung up.
I went through all my emails and found no case number. I called Amazon and told them what happened. This wasn’t a direct Amazon problem, I just wanted help reporting a problem branch to the Post Office. Amazon was helpful and put me through to the general USPS number. That’s not somebody local. What I wanted from them was to complain not just about my post office but the guy at Customer Service. The woman I talked to this time said that there was no way to report a problem with branch. That’s not the way it works. She could give me a case number but I’d have to call my branch. The ones I was complaining about. People I had already talked to and gotten no satisfaction. You can’t report a bad branch manager to the himself. She said that’s all she could do. She got insulting. She finally said that after I called the branch I could call customer service. So I could just call customer service with the case number? She said that if listened to her I’d have known that. Somehow it didn’t occur to her that when someone says that they need a case number so they could report the branch manager and says that they don’t want to talk to the branch manager, that you shouldn’t start by telling them to talk to the branch manager. I was losing it. Between the wasted trip to post office, the 37 minutes on hold, the fight with customer service, and then with her I had wasted hours on this. I told her that. Her response was a snarky, how much time do you have? I asked for her name. She wouldn’t give it. She said she told me at the start. I’m pretty sure this is not good policy for people whose job it is to deal with the public. The nice person at Amazon told me that she had her name and would email me it with me along with the number I should call.
Therapy was interesting as I had tons of things to discuss but couldn’t until I had vented about the post office. I also spent time explaining the economics of musicians selling CDS at shows as people no longer have CD players. When we went over by 15 minutes I told her that my lesson in folk music economics should not count against my time. I love my therapist.
When I got back to the Bronx I went to the post office. The line was even longer than when I left. Fortunately it moved faster. When I got to the front I gave the lovely woman at the window the pink slip and my driver’s license. She went to get my package. It took a long time. I saw her talk to her supervisor. That’s always trouble. He asked me my address. She came to the window and I told her what a difficult time I had. She was the first postal employee that had showed any hint of empathy. She apologized even though it wasn’t her fault. She was young, maybe they hadn’t beaten the humanity out of her yet. I told her to take care of the next person in line.
The manager found my package and gave it to me. He didn’t explain why it was so difficult to find. As I was there I decided to go into my problems with him. I asked why I didn’t get it delivered to my house. He said, “all it said was no secure location.’ I told him maybe they could say that for Wednesday but on Thursday they were told exactly where to leave it; in front of my apartment door. He asked what floor. I told him the second and he said, “Then they should have left it.” He said he’d talk about it with the captain. I explained that this wasn’t the first, second, third, or even fourth this had happened. All I got was, “I’ll talk to the captain.” He didn’t take my info so he has no intention of getting back to me.
When I got home I called customer service with the case number I now had. Nobody answered. I called the number the Amazon employee gave me. It was not a working number. So now Amazon screwed up too. Ugh. At least I got my water bottle.
I’ll tell you about today’s adventures in making my computer work, tomorrow. There’s a reason I didn’t update until after 9 PM.
Wise Madness 