The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Life

Going To War Over A Phone Bill

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I can be a prickly sort of fellow, in fact you could say that I am working on becoming a curmudgeon. I kind of like it. There is something kind of fun about being a grumpy old man. I am good at it. In about 75 years or so the body will be wrinkled enough to really pull it off well.

Today I received an email from the good people at AT&T letting me know that my e-bill is ready for viewing. Good old Ma Bell, the old battle axe is never shy about sticking her hand in my pocket. I am not one of those people who just pay the bill. I always look at it. Mistakes happen and I am not interested in giving away any more cash than I already do. It is also why I stay on top of their promotions to see if I qualify for any sort of special rate.

Last week I found out that there is a new program that costs around ten bucks less a month than the one I had. So I called the old lady up and asked her to switch me over to the new and improved AT&T. Lickety split the good woman took care of my request and all was good, or so I thought. Had I not received an email from the old broad I would still have this goofy smile on my face. You know the one, it is that feeling you get when you feel like you just negotiated a good deal.

Anyhoo, I dutifully followed the link in the email to read my bill and flipped my lid. The freaking thing is a good $50 more than I expected. Not only that, but the fine folks at the phone company have done their best to create a bill that is thoroughly unintelligible. It is authentic frontier gibberish. I have never claimed to be Einstein, but Mama Shack didn’t raise a complete idiot. So I pored over the bill and inspected it. There were all sorts of charges and credits. And I can’t help but believe that their intention is to make it so difficult to understand that you just give up.

Well I don’t give up. I don’t let things go, at least not if they are important. Had it been possible I would have called the company immediately to have my concerns addressed. But of course their business hours ended 16 hours ago. Customer service is available for about fifteen minutes each day. As a a proper corporation they spread those fifteen minutes around, such as 8:55 am, 9:21 am, 11:16 and 30 seconds am etc. You get the picture. It is 15 minutes but not consecutive.

Jackasses.

I am not going to go quietly into the night. Tomorrow morning I’ll plug the number into the speed dialer and hit redial one thousand and seventy-two times. Ok, pop quiz, who knows Gematria and the value of 1,072. Or as my old rav would sing, echod, mi yodaya.

One of these days I’ll spend a few minutes and share with you my disgust regarding the insurance companies and their fercockteh bills. For now this is all I have got for you.

What is There to Live For

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In a couple of weeks my paternal grandfather will turn 91. In some ways it is hard to believe that he is so old. I still remember the guy who pulled me in my wagon, took me to movies and a thousand other places. I remember the man who always told me a joke and laughed heartily at life.

At the grand old age of 91 my grandfather’s mind is still sharp. He can tell you stories about his time in the carnival business, regal you with tales of Winters spent in New Orleans and time hustling pool. There are stories about life in Vegas and his childhood in Chicago. He’ll tell you about his time in the army and fighting the battle of Victorville. It is a seemingless endless supply of stories.

But his recitation of these stories has grown limited. The times in which he speaks are fewer and farther between. That man doesn’t seem to be there right now. The stories are still there, he remembers them all but instead of laughter all I hear is silence. He is retreating. He is turning his gaze inward and spending more time sleeping or lost in his own thoughts.

This concerns me. I think that he and I are going to have a conversation about what his plans are for the near future. He hasn’t said it yet, but I suspect that in the back of his head he is asking himslef “what is there to live for.”

I have a special relationship with all of my grandparents, but in some ways he and I are closer. From a personality standpoint there are many similarities, but part of our bond stems back to my very early childhood. I remember the time between my grandmother dying and his meeting/marrying his second wife, who I came to call grandma as well.

It is a little more than two years since she passed away and he went to live with my father. Within that time frame his eyesight has dramatically deteriorated, he broke his pelvis and has had a number of age related health issues. I cannot imagine that any of that is easy and I rather suspect that he hates it. And I know that he misses being able to drive and is not thrilled about having to live with my parents.

At 91 his ability to roll with the punches is diminished. I think that there would be problems even if my grandmother still alive, but they are exacerbated by his loneliness. He won’t go to any senior centers or activities for seniors and you couldn’t make him if you tried. His stubborness is legendary.

So we find ourselves trying to get him to interact with us, encourage him to speak but it is not working so well.

If this attitude does not change I do not think that he will be with us for too long and in good conscience I cannot sit back and watch this any longer. I don’t have any profound insights or solutions to this problem.

My plan is very basic. I am going to ask him what his plans are and whether he wants to continue to live. I can speak in very direct terms with him. I can lay it out as starkly as it sounds here and not be worried because that is the kind of relationship he and I have.

I am afraid not to be blunt because I think that the time for being soft and sensitive is past. Very soon I am going to find out if he still has a fire in his belly and if not I am going to try and light it.

I don’t know what the outcome will be, but it cannot be worse than it is now.

Looking For a Fight

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When I was younger it was not unusual for my temper to get me in trouble. Not unlike other young men I was full of piss and vinegar and sometimes succumbed to a lack of judgement. There were times that I went looking for trouble and times when it came looking for me.

The saddest part about this is that generally when the two sides met there was more than a hullaballoo. Those that know me know that there are times when you would swear that a hurricane follows me because there is a whirlwind of activity and more trouble than you really want to be involved in. Simple is not a good description because sometimes simple got crumpled up, kicked in the mouth and pushed to the side.

As a slightly older and I think somewhat wiser man I have managed to avoid many of the stupid problems of the past. I ignore them or walk away or deal with them in a manner that prevents my having to contend with issues that in the past would have dogged me.

However there are moments when you can see flashes of the guy I used to be and sometimes people are surprised because even though it is infrequent there are flashes of that temper.

Typically if it manifests itself now it is because I am frustrated at the lack of understanding/response to a given subject. And if you catch me/confront me during these moments you may find that I am not real receptive to a quiet conversation. You may find that there is fire coming out of my nose but I have walked away so as to maintain a civil tongue.

If you choose to try and engage me during one of these moments consider yourself warned in advance that I may try to skin you alive and will eat you uncooked or charbroiled.

It Is Only Water

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He was standing there with a look of surprise on his face, or should I say he was crouching next to my hose. A teenage boy, at best in his early 20s was using my hose to fill up a water bottle.

Perhaps it is more appropriate to say that we were both surprised. I had walked outside because I was preparing to leave to pick up my dinner and I am certain that he never expected to encounter anyone.

For a moment I was silent as I tried to assess the situation. He spoke first by saying that it was only water, but there was something about his manner that bothered me. I said that it was more than just water. I pay for that water. It is not free, it comes from my pocket. I know that I had a harsh look on my face and an edge in my tone.

I told him to turn off my hose and stand up. As he did so I confronted him, peppering him with questions.

“Why didn’t you knock on the door and ask, do you need money, what makes you think that you can just take it?”

And in return he said that he was sorry, but it was just water. The lack of sincerity in his voice further incited me. I noticed that he was heading to a car parked across the street. It had three or four people inside it and as he walked I told him to get in the car and leave.

He mumbled something at me and kept walking. I stood and stared while he flagged down cars to ask for assistance with his vehicle. Apparently it was stalled on my street and for a moment I considered walking over to offer him some water, but I just couldn’t do it.

He was willing to stop cars to ask for help so I wondered about why he couldn’t have knocked on the door and asked for help or at least permission to use my hose. It took me a moment to realize the source of my anger. It stems back to the incident at Target when my son shouted “Daddy, they have mommy’s purse.”

The more I thought about it the more that I realized that I felt violated again and though it might seem trivial, some of the anger/frustration comes from the first incident. To him it may have “just been water” but to me it was something more.

I was angry. It bothered me that he was willing to flag down cars in the street to ask for help but that he was unwilling to do the right thing and knock on my door and ask for permission to use my hose. For a moment I wanted to stop him in his tracks to get some clarification on this but it wasn’t going to happen.

He wasn’t going to allow himself to look any more foolish in front of his friends and I wasn’t going to engage in further dialogue because I really did want to let it all blow over because I didn’t want to make the situation worse.

What I mean by that is that I had to be concerned about what this kid might do to my home later. It is a sad statement, but the reality is that I had to consider whether he would choose to come back and vandalize my home in some manner.

In the time that has elapsed nothing has happened so I am cautiously optimistic that this is nothing more than a story, but I admit to being disturbed that I had to worry about any of this.