Coffee and Shame

Part I

I have, of late been subject to a strange and unusual feeling. Checking my symptoms with The Clinical Guide to Psychotropic Medications it appears that I am suffering from shame and looking back over the last few days I suppose that my hypothalamus is justified in holding back on those nice little endomorphines. It all started last Saturday when I just blobbed out. (I don’t know if “blobbed out” is a valid expression in America, in England it has certain female connotations so perhaps I should say I vegged out). Yes indeed I forsook my usual free breakfast at Sam’s Club (I didn’t even go there), I didn’t mow the yard, I didn’t wash the truck, I didn’t do anything at all. I just sat still and watched the second series of Lost on DVD. I watched until my eyes bled. I ignored the pangs of hunger, the pangs of thirst and yes, even the calls of nature. (Note to self, purchase a catering size pack of Depends before they release series 3). That was the sum total of my weekend. 24 episodes back to back, seven disks if you include the bonus features (and I did). Now like a fat chick staring at an empty cream cake box I feel satiated but at the same time sad and hugely guilty. Oh well I am sure that the feeling will pass and the sofa cushions will dry out before season 3 is released.


Part II

So I am slowly getting my self-esteem and respect back when once again life conspires to guide me towards the Prozac bottle. Today I was going to rant about our local telephone company. It is not what they don’t do; it is more a case of what they do (that I don’t want them to do). For many years we have not had a landline at home. As far as I can see they are merely an instrument to allow telemarketers to join us for our evening meal. So we have four cell phones which enable us to keep tabs on FOTL1 and FOTL2 and an international calling card that gets us to Europe for 2 cents a minute (beat that Sprint). Now to my deep regret we have to have a landline or two in the shop for the credit card machine, the fax and of course the telephone. The local telecom scumbags of course cannot resist the opportunity to screw us out of every cent so they

1. Cram our number (click here if you don’t know what cramming is).
2. Despite many calls telling them that the line is for incoming calls only so we don’t want a long distance plan, they sign us up. Guess who with? Yes indeed their parent company.
3. They sell our number so we are subjected to an increasing number of telesales calls.

So why, do you ask, am I feeling the shame? Well as I said I was going to rant and name names and shame the guilty, except they called me first. They want to have an off site meeting and guess where? Yes indeed our place and money is no object. So they remain anonymous and I have sold my personal integrity for the Yankee dollar. Ho hum.

Part III

It seems like I may have been wrong with regard to point three above. Late last night we took yet another call. The formula is “Please hold the line for an important message” at which point I hang up. This time I decided to hold on and give these parasites a piece of my mind. The following ensues;

Hello
Why are you calling this number?
Are you Jenny Talworts?
Who are you?
Are you Jenny Talworts
Who are you?
We are the Acme Debt Recovery Agency.
No I am not Jenny Talworts
Do you know where I can contact her?
No
Click.

Later I realized that it would have been much more fun to have ‘fessed up to being the Jenny Talworts (I have said that name three times now so I hope you caught the double entendre) and found out what the deal is. Watch this space the next time the boys call to break her kneecaps I will wind them up and let you know what transpires.

Still feeling the shame.
TCB