On coming home: a useless rant against a horrible week

Ok, maybe it’s me or the weather, but the world this week is in disarray. Turn on the television today and listen to the story of a 2 year crushed to death by an air conditioner not properly held in place, follow Trump’s denial that there was no quid pro quo , open your eyes to the climate that is so bizarre, fluctuating from tornadoes to wild fires. Honestly, you could weep. Except forJohn Oliver, Stephen Colbert and hiding your heads in series like Jack Ryan or Catherine The Great, it’s a dreary, painful trip. When my daughter sends me a picture of her little girls, my head and heart breath a sigh of relief and release some angst: that there still remains some loveliness in life.

Returning from 77 degrees in California, walks on the beach and the freedom to move my limbs without fear I will twist an ankle on ice, I am plunged back into an ice breaking cold spell. One expects mid or late December to be the thing of greeting cards, snow lightly dusting gingerbread houses, but these bone chilling temperatures send more than shivers through my incredulous body this week.

Add that to that domestic issues of trying to replace a refrigerator that is threatening to stop, salespeople who lie and then equivocate, replacement sizes that are not as listed, delivery men who refuse to follow directions and the end result being two refrigerators, one blocking my ovens, neither working. And when I go to the company to confront , no one will speak with me. Most likely because I am a woman, I think.

On top of that is Canada Post. Having had a package delivered to my daughter’s because I was away, I receive a card to pick up my offending package. Arriving with email notification, I am told her permission is required. I argue, showing my last name is the same and the communication was actually sent directly to ME from Canada Post.The man at the counter tells me I need her written permission, so home I go and ask her to email me, her authorization and her driver’s license with her address. I return, wait( of course) again and this time I’m told they need a letter on paper. When I suggest they photocopy, he lies and says we do not have a photocopier or printer. In deed, how is it we both share the same last name, I have her permission, proof of identity and even her phone number to be contacted. The manager will not return for an hour, he tells me, it’s freezing out and snowing and why will the manager be more willing to use their brain to come to a reasonable conclusion that the package can go home with me.

When I call Canada Post, I am kept on hold for 30 minutes, and basically, they concur with the immovable man at Shoppers with my package, but do suggest that there is some discretion possible by the clerks. Obviously not at St. Clair Wychwood.

My sister too tells me she does her telephone follow ups en route to work in the car because 20-40 wait time is de rigeur. This I know because of trying to straighten out on line purchases or alternatively Rogers ,who are for the most part, useless too. How many times have I been told to wipe everything off my computer, and found myself in a worse situation?

Having grown up in a world where people take responsibility for their or their company’s actions is a thing of the past. Now, the mantra is “ I’ll transfer you.”

In a world of hypocrisy, we teach recycle, reuse, but every object purchased is headed for obsolescence crafted from materials that cannot be fixed, poorly made or are actually irreplaceable. Even Oticon hearing aids has changed aps almost monthly. And should you call for service on an appliance, do not be surprised at a price tag of $250 to come to your door with a 15-20 minute incremental charge. So why repair, if in deed, your item can be fixed but a new one is cheaper, even should a part be available.

So unable to walk briskly to a store, as now condos have made it impossible for small stores to persist, dangerous trucks and construction materials block your passage and the road is icy as hell, you hop in your car, remembering to add an extra 1 /2 to one hour to your commute because you will encounter delays, more construction and roadblocks. You may look with sad eyes at the shops hidden behind barricades at Crosslinx, knowing the merchants have been forced from business as work proceeds for maybe 6 or so years; or alternately turn on music as you wait and wait for the non ending lines of cars to creep ahead. Of course once you arrive at your destination, there is the challenge of finding a parking space and please beware: the green hornets circling should you find a spot. Do not talk to me of the TTC as the North Toronto bus is so slow you will be turned to stone should it arrives, and the only other choice is a 20-30 minutes( weather permitting) walk to the station. And yes, if the weather is fine, I’ll put on my walking shoes but at present, snow and ice make that journey prohibitive.

And think too of the disabled, and those even more senior than I, with walkers, canes, etc.

Our grandchildren grow up in this world, a world of more bullying, more insouciance, less responsibility and human warmth or caring ( find a human voice on the phone if you can) and think it’s normal. Everywhere- on the Internet, fake messages of support and compassion. Talking heads, companies interested in you as a commodity , a purchaser.

I’ve said it before: I sound like my mother. I can just imagine how she might have reacted to my week.