title

I knew I had neglected the rambling and musing of late--mostly out of not having anything significant to say and sometimes even my whining annoys me as well.

My reading has almost stopped dead in its tracks. To be very honest the last book I read in total was The Phantom Daily Strips Volume 1-1936-1937.

I do have my eye on the latest Jane Austen mystery by Stephanie Barron. Had you been visiting a certain Barnes and Nobles bookstore in Beavercreek Ohio a couple of weeks ago you would have been a witness to a grumpy dinosaur fussing about the latest entry in the series (#11 I believe) which the publishers in their zeal to annoy collectors published in a larger size edition than the standard paperback. I hold the previous proper sized book in hand and show the slightly amused clerk the new book and show her how my bookcase alignment is seriously damaged by this. Do not get me started on Bernard Cornwell's Sharpe novels--I gave up THAT battle for a matched set years ago--anyone who has read them in paperback will know what I mean.

The clerk displays the sympathetic soul of a Logos who has heard from a certain admirer one time too many and sighs. A ray of hope is tossed into the turmoil. She declares the publishers might reprint to standard size in about six months.

But don't count on it.

I have not at all been above calling up secretaries of publishing houses to praise or grump as appropriate even though it has been awhile and the last poor receptionist didn't even realize her company published Godzilla novels. True story. Due to low sales a FIFTH Godzilla novel completely written with cover on a website shown was never released. And yes they were very entertaining. Godzilla and the Lost Continent was the title. Added to the heartbreak of Donald Hamilton's final Matt Helm novel likewise never published by Fawcett Gold Medal books--they OWED that man--bigger sigh.

Moving on--still gainfully employed at AAA. For one of the very few times ever I was presented with a complaint made about my dispatching in which I quite frankly told my boss to tell the member to go to Hell--quote unquote.

Yes I lost my temper. Freely confessed but reluctantly as sin. Mutterings of I do well to be angry Lord (borrowed from the book of Jonah way too often).

The situation: Like it or not we serve OTHER people besides AAA members and this thorn in my hide was represented by the Sprint people.

It started out innocently. He was at a Guardian Self Storage lot on Lyons Rd. So far so good. No problem finding him was expected. There is an address given--key point here.

Except it was Saturday night.

And at night my trucks are less and already scattered hither and yon.

After over an hour or so a truck is on the way. I call the member and advise and I hang up the phone never dreaming he and were destined to become bitter enemies in about twenty minutes.

My driver arrives at the location and waits at the main entrance. No sign of car or member.

I call. Member insists he is there and my driver is not.

I call back the driver. He too insists he is there.

I call John Doe who is NOW getting slightly--just slightly irritated. He mentions a library and police station nearby.

I call my driver. None of those landmarks exist where he is.

I call call Mr. Lost back and ask for confirmation of the address he is at. He refuses to go look. Informs me he is where he is supposed to be and my driver should find him.

I then make the remark that gets a written complaint by a fellow who has too much time on his hands and not willing to admit perhaps a mistake has been made somewhere.

"All right I need to get busy and find out where you REALLY are."

I dig out a phone book and a minute later the mystery is solved.

He is really at Guardian Self Storage WEST --also on Lyons--about two blocks away. A driver finds him and no more is said--until the complaint shows at the office about attitudes.

This is one of the very few times I explode and inform my boss, Tami, that I am up to here with members etc. who don't help themselves in resolving this sort of thing and can't admit they are wrong. To be fair often members will; especially the ones who tell us the wrong side of the highway they are on.

Nothing further comes of this. I carefully forget John Doe's name to avoid carrying out revenge fantasies more then I should.

In fairness to him since he didn't know the adress. I suspect the Sprint calltaker took it off a computer website--Google maps probably. I leave it at that. I really don't want it proven one way or the other if he was a complete moron.