Thursday, June 16, 2011

Painfully Slow Progress

Each Monday I start out with a list of 15 to 20 tasks I need to complete during the week, and usually before I can even finish composing the list, the phone rings and I get dragged off in some other direction.  I find myself having to make daily lists of tasks on top of my weekly tasks, adding new items each hour, and am lucky if I can pull an item off my weekly list and put it onto a daily list.  I just have too many unexpected responsibilities coming out of left field at me at the moment.  I can't plan for anything.  If you can wake up in the morning and wonder what you're going to do, or better yet, know you are going to get to do what you want to do, consider yourself lucky. 

The theme of my week seems to be hassles around every turn.  I literally could not complete a single task this week without it turning into a huge fiasco that sucked up hours or days of my time.  Whenever I attempted to solve one problem, my solution created 3 or 4 more problems. 

Examples:

1.  I bought a file cabinet to store the extra thousand or so papers I inherited from my mother.  Simple process, right?  Wrong.  The salesman told me I needed to buy these extra rods for hanging file folders and it turned out he was wrong.  Not only did I have to waste another hour of my time and half a tank of gas returning the unneeded items to the store, but I couldn't log into the store's website to claim my warranty, which I needed because one of the drawers on the file cabinet was jammed.  I contacted customer support for help logging on to the website, and no one responded.  I ended up having to beg for help from a clerk in the store.  Three days later, I'm still working on registering the warranty and getting a replacement for the file cabinet.  It just doesn't pay to be a consumer.  I cringe every time I have to buy something, because I know it's going to result in disappointment, returns, exchanges and replacements.  More and more stores are selling damaged goods and not helping their customers deal with the problem.

2.  I spent an entire day insuring and registering my mother's car in my name, a process that was fraught with miscommunications.  I got more bad advice from my attorney.  He told me to transfer the title in my mother's home state and register in my home state.  It turns out that I had to pay both states for the title transfer.  More time and money down the drain.

Then there's the culture shock between how we do it in the country vs. how they do it in the city.  We used to have our own DMV office in town, and when they needed to inspect your VIN on your vehicle, the person who was helping you simply walked out into the parking lot and did it.  Due to our state running out of money, all rural DMV offices were closed, so everyone has to drive into their nearest big city to get whatever DMV needs taken care of that can't be handled over the Internet. 

I waited in line 40 minutes to get to a window, and the first thing the woman said was, "Where is your VIN inspection?"  Say what?  "Isn't that something you do here?"  The lady started yelling at me and said, "No, you have to drive around to the back of the building.  There are too many people waiting in line here.  We can't leave our desks to go look at your car!"

So, off I went in a car with no license plates, driving around the building in search of some secret place to have my VIN inspected.  I couldn't find it.  I sat in my car about ready to break down and cry when I noticed a little hut hidden in the corner of the parking lot.  It looked like a weigh station for trucks.  I drove over there, and that was where I was supposed to go.  Mind you, I did study the DMV website before driving all the way into the city to make sure I had everything I needed.  Nowhere did it say that I had to go to the hut at the back of the building to get the VIN inspection before entering the DMV.

The man gave me a piece of paper verifying that the car I was registering really did have the VIN that was on my pink slip.  Then I returned to the DMV office to wait in line for another 40 minutes to complete the transaction.  My husband works for the State, and he told me that they were supposed to give me a new ticket to go to the front of the line when I returned, but they didn't.  I guess I sufficiently pissed off the clerk with my country bumpkin ignorance and she decided to let me suffer for it.

However, when all was said and done, I looked at the numbers and letters on the license place they assigned me and smiled.  They were all significant numbers and letters that represented something special in my life, and I knew that my parents were sending me a message through that "random" license plate that they are still with me in spirit.

Just to show you how much our state has grown, when we first moved to Nevada 23 years ago, our first license plate began with the letter C.  This latest license plate I received begins with the letter X.

3.  I pulled out all of my business cards for horse trainers and researched them.  I picked out which one was the best match for my needs in training Gabbrielle, and both her phone numbers were disconnected and her website was down.  Back to the drawing board.  Most of the horse trainers in my area will only train already trained horses for a specific discipline.  It's hard to find someone to start a horse under saddle.  The trainer I used with Bombay has disappeared off the face of the earth, and even way back then she was complaining that she was getting too old for it.  So, what I was hoping to be as simple as making a phone call and delivering the horse is going to turn into a much more complicated process as I search for a willing trainer whose horsemanship techniques and philosophies match mine.

In other news, we went from winter to summer so fast that my body is having a hard time adjusting.  It seems it was dark all day and pitch black at 6:00 PM just a few weeks ago, so I would feed the horses at what was supposed to be sunset and go to bed.  Now the sun is out until about 7:30 PM and I find myself falling asleep while the sun still shines.  I need to stay awake longer and feed the horses later so that I can use that time to ride.  I actually see people trailering their horses to the Fairgrounds for a ride while I'm wrapping up my day and climbing into my pajamas because I don't have an ounce of energy left in me.  Before I know it, summer will be over and I'll be back in hibernation.

2 comments:

lytha said...

i'm sorry you have so much stress, even more than usual.

i was getting all tense just reading about it.

cultural differences between city and country - are they like the cultural differences i experience? yes! you can hear me regularly freaking out here, "why is it so difficult here!?" when it comes to the banal things in life that should be easy, but aren't.

our sky is still bright at 10 pm up here, it's so weird. but our winters are darker longer than yours.

hawaiians have got it made, 12 hours of daylight - all year long. or...is that a good thing?

i would really love to come to your state on my next trip to america. i hope we can meet.

achieve1dream said...

Well that sucks. Remind me never to visit your state lol. I hope you were able to sort things out on all three problems.