Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Laughter ... good medicine

About 2 months ago or so I had gotten mad as a hatter because of a phone call. I ranted. Hubby told me to settle down. He suggested that it isn't good for me to get so upset. Ya think? 

So what about a phone call made me mad? It was "Rebecca, from card services."  Now, I have gotten these calls for years. About two years ago we got rid of all credit cards so I hoped the calls would stop. They are simply a solicitation to get their "new and improved" card. Press "1" to be taken off the list or "3" to talk to customer service. I have pushed "3" more times than I can count over the years.

I fully admit that it is my own temper and foretold chaotic life that pushed me to allow this little call (over and over) to get to me, but I am busy. I don't want to get these calls, they supposedly gave me a way to get off the list yet they keep calling. By the way, I have also talked to customer service and asked to speak to a supervisor, and was promptly hung up on.

Then one day the phone rang and it was "Rebecca" and it popped into my head. The picture of a little black plastic whistle we had running around the house. I pressed "3", ran to get the whistle and as soon as someone NOT named Rebecca answered the phone I blew the whistle as hard as I could.

Clatter clatter, "damn", clatter, clatter was what I heard on the other end of the line. I just cracked up.

Now, I realize it is not exactly the fault of that poor girl on the other end, on the other hand the opinion of this household is that credit cards are evil, and those who work for credit card companies are pretty much doomed if they continue suckering people in with half truths and 3/4 lies.

So, today I got the third chance to use my little plastic whistle, and along with the clatter at the other end, I scared the kids, EXCEPT for cheeks who was sleeping. LOL, you should have seen them jump.

I love my little black whistle...

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