Fitty Bucks

Before I got pregnant, I had my own idea (read: fantasy) of what it would be like. I'd be "glowing" and happy and, of course, I wouldn't have morning sickness because I just love food waaaay to much. And things don't usually gross me out so, I'd be fine. Right?

WRONG-O. I was sick for a couple of months there. Whiffs of things made me just gag...but was I emotional? Nooooooo...no, problem.

Wrong again.

Fast forward to about a week ago. I'm meeting my girls at Esquire. We have a nice little Mardi Gras meal and we head home. My husband had joined us on his motorcycle in freezing, wet weather. (?!?!?!?) He brought the mail in to me because he didn't want to leave it in his saddle bags. I look through it. "Oh good! Our Verizon rebates." Well, it was just one of the rebates and it was made out to MARICA. NOT my name, but who cares, right? They'll cash it.

I get home and realize that I have all the other junk mail but not the friggin' check. Just my luck! And after thorough searches of my car and my driveway I decide to give Esquire a call. THEY HAVE IT!!! Yayyyyy!!

But, what about the other rebate?? Where oh where could that little rebate be? Since many people in this area have Verizon, I happen to mention something to my friend Amy. She got her rebates back. ALL OF THEM. And it comes up in conversation that I sent my rebates together. In one envelope. All at once. She said the "rules" stated to send them separately. Pfffffffff, I think. They're smart enough to open an envelope and see two, right? The other will come shortly...

Yesterday, with still no sign of the other rebate, I check the status online. Remembering to type my name in as MARICA, of course, I see only one rebate.

I decide to give them a call. This is when I realize I have completely lost control of my senses.
I explain the situation to the lady. I had heard that I should've sent the rebates separately, but I didn't...she they'll accept a copy.

"I didn't keep a copy!" I screech. I always, always keep copies of such things. But, I'm tired of cluttering up my life and I trusted them to process it correctly.

Well, the lady informs me that she can't help me. I'm absolutely livid. I'm so used to people saying: "We'll see what we can do..." She didn't say that. She didn't offer me any hope.

So, since I don't have a leg to stand on, I cling to this:

"AND you spelled my name wrong on the rebate I DID receive."

"They spelled it as they saw it on the form..."

"No, they didn't! It was a pre-printed form!"

"Let me look you up...."

[crickets]

"Did you hang up, ma'm?"

"NO!"

"How was your name spelled?"

I wasn't sure which name she wanted. MY name or the name on the rebate. So, I said:

"MARICA".

"That's how we have it spelled..."

"MY NAME IS MARCIA!!"

"Ma'm you're going to need to..."

CLICK.

I wasn't going to hear her say I needed to calm down. I was done. My face was red with embarrassment from yelling at the lady. I never do that. More flies with honey and all that jazz...plus, like I said, most people help. And I'm not normally nearly five months pregnant and surprisingly hormonal.

I felt terrible. I was rude. I was uncontrollable. I was one of those people I despise. AND I WASN'T GOING TO GET MY $50.

I finally calmed down and laughed as I told my husband the story. I said: "I don't think we were meant to get those rebates."

On my way home from work, I went by Valvoline to get my oil changed. It went very smoothly as usual and I paid my bill. Oil changes for me with my synthetic oil run about $49.00. I know it's expensive and I should really just pi$ my money away, but...

The guy says: "Do you have one of our punch cards?"

No, I didn't. And I didn't really remember ever even seeing one.

"Well," he says, "you've been here 17 times..."

punch, punch, punch, punch, punch

"Here you go. Your next oil change is free."

Woohooo! 50 bucks!!!!