Call them first thing in the morning, and insist on the tracking number.
I once had to fill out an elaborate online form, I think for something related to Medicare. When I got to the last page I had to do an electronic signature. It demanded that I have a middle name or initial. I don’t have a middle name. It would not accept my form without a middle name, and it wouldn’t accept a made-up one. I had to get on the phone and fill out the entire form verbally, spelling every damn thing, which took almost two hours.
My wife did that yesterday. They’re supposed to call at 2pm today to confirm the tracking number. I’m not holding my breath.
Sometimes it feels like every square foot of Silicon Valley is under construction. I had to drive out at lunchtime today to do an errand, and I was held up in four separate bad traffic jams caused by construction. I was half an hour late back from lunch.
This is another first-world problem. If the economy wasn’t booming, then all this building wouldn’t be going on. It sucked, though.
To complete my trilogy, today the sticking point was my middle name. I have an unpronounceably unusual middle name, that is one name made up of two words. In one official document it was initialised as “T” and in the other it was “T R” and in most others it doesn’t get listed at all.
I am used to it being misspelt and misread, and tend not to bring it up too often to avoid complication, but in official documentation it’s inescapable. But how they choose to address it is up to them and rarely will match up. In their attempts to streamline some Government systems they are accessing every department to prove identity and auto-fill parts of the forms, and as they are filled with information that are not just pre-Internet but pre-Computers, what a disastrous shamozzle.
Anyway. I am now enrolled at Uni for a year-long Graphic Design course. Though apparently I am going to be dinged for the full fee upfront just because I am not a citizen of Australia. That used to not matter, citizenship of New Zealand was accepted, but somewhere along the way the rules changed and now it does matter.
Darn it.
Managers at my work usually bring in doughnuts and bagels on Fridays. But this is a holiday weekend, so they didn’t. A notice was emailed, but I still haven’t gotten it, so I stopped for butter on the way in for nothing.
I really had my teeth set for an everything bagel, toasted and dripping with melted butter. Poop.
It’s July. *cue fireworks