Small town life . . . enough to make a shy, bald Buddhist reflect and plan a mass murder
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Because everyone deserves to
celebrate Halloween. I think the striped pants go with the m&m top.
Just when I thought it couldn't get any more
unbelievable, I found out from the fools on the hill that my paperwork, completed months ago, was actually quietly sitting in my file. Available for anyone who bothered to listen.
It's hard to have a sense of humor in a cloak, in a high wind, on a moor.
-- Margaret Atwood, Good Bones and Simple Murders
Chapter Two
in Tales from the Dark Side.
Today I was told that the staff person who (supposedly) can help me with my paperwork is on vacation, not to return before the deadline I have for filing the papers. And yes, I was assured that this is the only person who can help me, but that I should go back to the office that didn't know what to do to help me on Monday. I gnashed my teeth, but did go there and try to set up an appointment, but was told that the office staff cannot make appointments because if they do, "everything gets too mixed up." I am now working on Plan C.
Employment program for the terminally inept.
A bright spot yesterday, though. After hours of waiting in line and being shunted from one office to another, my previous impressions were confirmed. "Make sure you keep copies of everything because no one here knows what they're doing."
