Like a virgin?
“Hello and welcome to We Already Have your Money and There’s Nothing You Can Do About It. For customer service, press 1 or say customer service…” I enunciate, “Customer service”… “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand, did you say new reservation?” “CUSTOMER SERVICE,” I bark into the phone. “Customer service,” she repeats cheerily. “Please enter or say your 18-thousand-digit account number now.” Oh, man, where is my card? This time I decide to punch in the numbers.
“Did you enter 8…7…5…4…4…3…3…2…3…2…3…2…9…9…9…9…9…9? If this is correct, please press 1 now; if it’s not correct please press 2.” Braaaar, I practically smash in the one key. “For information regarding your account, press or say 2….” “TWO!” I bellow. “For a new or existing problem press or say 4… for passengers with questions regarding intercontinental, European or Mid-Atlantic travel press or say 5…
I wonder, Did they hang up on me…again? I don’t dare hang up, even though I am furious that I have to be on this stupid call; they should have a card that racks up extra miles for all the hours you spend trying to redeem your points you have worked your ass off for. I push the phone into my head to see if I can hear anything and then…”Your business is important to us, thank you for holding.” Then nothing again. I have literally over half an hour invested so there’s no way I am hanging up now. Did I mention this was my third call?
“Mizz Comparto?” “Oh, hi yes…it’s me. Ms. Comaroto!” “Okay Miss Comparto…how can I help you with your gold card account today?” “I don’t have a gold account…wait..I have a silver account, I pressed silver, can you do silver?” I plead. “This is the gold membership department, you need the silver membership department, Miss Comparto, I am going to place you on hold for a brief moment. Just one moment while I transfer your call to the silver department.” And then it happens…“If you wish to make another call please hang up and try your call again….” They hang up on me.
My first thought is to write a letter to that saucy Brit who owns the airlines and tell him that I am going to do a whole radio show on how their airlines seduces you in like a VIRGIN and then wham bam thank you Mizz Comparto…you can’t even pronounce my name the next morning! But I don’t.
And not because I don’t want to. Once upon a time that mechanism to reflect and self-inquire (or redirect the storm) was undeveloped in me. After years and years of self-inquiry and listening to my inner urgings and longings, I have learned how to identify and constructively redirect them (particularly the ones that want up and out and like freight trains), as their overwhelming nature and urgency has the potential for so much damage; guilt, shame, remorse, and worse. Like losing jobs, partners and more.
Today I have a practice that includes rigorous and vigilant inquiry into my feelings, emotions, thoughts, and actions, and my responsibility to and for them. This responsibility expands to include everything I experience. And my history illustrates the divine benefits of having matured enough to be able to respond rather than react, which in this split second of evolution for me looks something like…hmmmm, what am I going to choose to do here? From the eye of the tornado the forecast looks entirely different. I choose to express myself entirely, with respect and abandon; to see myself, to acknowledge my own self in a way that will not hurt me or anyone else. I write. I write until I empty it all the way out. And what used to in the beginning feel like taming the beast or securing myself to the earth in the midst of a tornado now feels like a rocket ship ready to launch with a clear destination. 5-4-3-2…
I pick up the phone, one more time, this time paying attention to every number I press, remembering the tricks I learned the last three times, and decide, I will prevail. I take a firm grasp of the situation, “No more or less than is necessary” as my teacher would say, and forge on. Not a victim nor a villain, just “chop wood, carry water”; if you’re like me, with some sass on the side!
So what’s the moral? Maybe that sometimes it takes what it takes. We have become so impatient, so entitled, so, well…big babies, really! There, I said it! And like my mother’s boyfriend used to tell me, “Maryanne…if you have to shovel a pile of sh&* from one side of the room to the other…you might as well have a good time doin’ it!”
“Did you enter 8…7…5…4…4…3…3…2…3…2…3…2…9…9…9…9…9…9? If this is correct, please press 1 now; if it’s not correct please press 2.” Braaaar, I practically smash in the one key. “For information regarding your account, press or say 2….” “TWO!” I bellow. “For a new or existing problem press or say 4… for passengers with questions regarding intercontinental, European or Mid-Atlantic travel press or say 5…
I wonder, Did they hang up on me…again? I don’t dare hang up, even though I am furious that I have to be on this stupid call; they should have a card that racks up extra miles for all the hours you spend trying to redeem your points you have worked your ass off for. I push the phone into my head to see if I can hear anything and then…”Your business is important to us, thank you for holding.” Then nothing again. I have literally over half an hour invested so there’s no way I am hanging up now. Did I mention this was my third call?
“Mizz Comparto?” “Oh, hi yes…it’s me. Ms. Comaroto!” “Okay Miss Comparto…how can I help you with your gold card account today?” “I don’t have a gold account…wait..I have a silver account, I pressed silver, can you do silver?” I plead. “This is the gold membership department, you need the silver membership department, Miss Comparto, I am going to place you on hold for a brief moment. Just one moment while I transfer your call to the silver department.” And then it happens…“If you wish to make another call please hang up and try your call again….” They hang up on me.
My first thought is to write a letter to that saucy Brit who owns the airlines and tell him that I am going to do a whole radio show on how their airlines seduces you in like a VIRGIN and then wham bam thank you Mizz Comparto…you can’t even pronounce my name the next morning! But I don’t.
And not because I don’t want to. Once upon a time that mechanism to reflect and self-inquire (or redirect the storm) was undeveloped in me. After years and years of self-inquiry and listening to my inner urgings and longings, I have learned how to identify and constructively redirect them (particularly the ones that want up and out and like freight trains), as their overwhelming nature and urgency has the potential for so much damage; guilt, shame, remorse, and worse. Like losing jobs, partners and more.
Today I have a practice that includes rigorous and vigilant inquiry into my feelings, emotions, thoughts, and actions, and my responsibility to and for them. This responsibility expands to include everything I experience. And my history illustrates the divine benefits of having matured enough to be able to respond rather than react, which in this split second of evolution for me looks something like…hmmmm, what am I going to choose to do here? From the eye of the tornado the forecast looks entirely different. I choose to express myself entirely, with respect and abandon; to see myself, to acknowledge my own self in a way that will not hurt me or anyone else. I write. I write until I empty it all the way out. And what used to in the beginning feel like taming the beast or securing myself to the earth in the midst of a tornado now feels like a rocket ship ready to launch with a clear destination. 5-4-3-2…
I pick up the phone, one more time, this time paying attention to every number I press, remembering the tricks I learned the last three times, and decide, I will prevail. I take a firm grasp of the situation, “No more or less than is necessary” as my teacher would say, and forge on. Not a victim nor a villain, just “chop wood, carry water”; if you’re like me, with some sass on the side!
So what’s the moral? Maybe that sometimes it takes what it takes. We have become so impatient, so entitled, so, well…big babies, really! There, I said it! And like my mother’s boyfriend used to tell me, “Maryanne…if you have to shovel a pile of sh&* from one side of the room to the other…you might as well have a good time doin’ it!”
No comments have been added yet.
