y'all realize that the older that you get the more in your life changes. i will not go into the cruel effect that time has on the body, or the constant trick bag that it opens up on nearly a daily basis. I'm gonna stick to the ever changing culture of today's society. i never thought that i would see the day that there would be so many people in this country that could not speak the English language well enough to keep me from feeling like an absolute fool while speaking on the telephone.
i know that i was born at a disadvantage anyway, but i speak two fluent languages, and have my whole life. the first one is English.......pure and simple. the second is what we redneck country folks call southernese. i can't not get lost in either one of these languages while I'm in the south, and that's where I've lived all of my life. i can walk up to any mountain hillbilly's front porch while the older men are battling it out in a game of checkers, and never get confused about what they are saying. yes,..............i am gifted!!
however,.............it seems any time i've got to make a service call on the telephone to get some advice about what to do with a problem, as soon as the phone starts ringing i start hearing the theme from the twilight zone playing. ( i'm gonna ship all the crap that we do to get another human being actually on the phone, because i think that we all know what that's like.) the minute somebody finally answers the phone, and you hear a voice the first words out of my mouth ususally are," what?...............what did you say?...........are you speaking English?" usually they reassure, or at least try to reassure me that they are speaking the English language. the whole deal is that most of the time this goes on for 45 minutes to an hour, and nothing has been accomplished but my blood pressure about to burst my heart!!
do you ever do something that you know is just the right thing to do? when i first lost my home, i did exactly something that i felt was the right thing to do. i stored some very vital, and important paperwork in this place called quest downtown. these people came highly praised for helping the homeless get back on the right track. i quickly realized that the was nothing that they could do for me, but i gave them a shot. i asked for housing, and they told me where to go. i ask for help filing my disability, and they told me to go to the social security office. the only thing that they done to help me out was store a bag in their closet.
in side of this bag was just things that i knew that could not be replaced. i had every medical record for the past 2 years. i had all my food stamp information. i had where i had recieved assistance with paying my rent over the past year, and i had everything that i needed to recieve medical services from Shands hospital. i even had old work payslips, and information from the social security administration.
even as valuable as all this was it was still not my prize possession. i had a Bible that i had bought ten years ago. it was my first Bible that i had ever personally bought. actually,...........it was the only one that i've ever bought. it was a Matthew Henry study Bible, and i paid around 100 bucks for it.
they let me know that they would only hold it for a month, and if i needed them to keep it long just come by or call. i kept every rule that they put on me, because this was the most important stuff that i had left, and i wanted it to be secure, so if my stuff was stolen then i would still have that available. i placed my stuff in a bag, and put the name tag on it myself with my counselors signature on it, and placed it in the closet.
today was the day that i decided i needed to collect my valuables. mostly because of issues with food stamps. i went into quest this morning, and something was different. it was calm!! no shouting, no cussing, and nobody was being threatened. usually it like a barroom brawl situation, but today it felt almost human.
i told the guy what i needed, and he took me right to the closet. there was another lady looking for here bag, and we decided to team up on the hunt. it wasn't long before i located the bag with my tag on it, so i pitched it outside the closet, and continued to help this woman. it wasn't long before the guy came back there again, and said that if i had found my bag then i need to go, because she could find her's without my help.
i just walked away, and taking my bag with me i went back to the waiting area. i was thinking that i never remembered having all this stuff to begin with, but it could have been possible that i had forget storing so much. i opened the bag, and started pulling clothes out, then shoes. this wasn't my bag at all!!! it was somebody else's bag. i looked at my tag to make sure that it was mine. i thought maybe i picked the wrong bag up. sure enough it was my tag. i was bewildered to say the least.
i should have realized that i was in the presence of a whinny scarred little boy figure when he told me that i needed to calm down, that he was on my side, and touched my arm. anybody that knows me knows that i am calm about things until you tried to treat me like i was a child. then i snapped. i said," do not touch me, or even try to patronize me. i'm just telling you that this is not my bag, and i don't want this bag. i want my bag!! now,.....you can go home and watch Dr. Phil this afternoon to get more help with dealing with adults, but right now i simply want my damn bag!!
he nervously said that i could go back into the closet, and look through every bag until i found mine. there was probably 200 bags in that closet, and i went through all of them that could have been mine, and still my bag was not found.
i just walked out the door , and left that wimp talking to himself. i wonder how my tag got on somebody Else's bag, when i know that i put it on my bag to begin with?? ooh,...................ooh,.................i know this,.............and i love it,....................you ready?.............here it is!!!
.....................just another illusion of confusion!!!
.............much love
No comments:
Post a Comment