Yesterday, when I mentioned the guy who interrupted my footlong chowing session at Subway with an unwanted strip show, I had to dig through my archives for the post. It took a while, as I’d archived my posts by the month. As I originally lived in Victoria for about four years, I had to sift through about forty months before finally finding the entry, and… it was underwhelming. If you wish to be underwhelmed, I can email it to you.
During my journey through the past, I uncovered some doozies. I spit out my tea when I read, “Has anybody noticed how it’s the bitchy girls who like Winnie the Pooh?”
Past me slays Now me.
The throwback post I’m sharing today isn’t about Winnie the Pooh or bitchy girls, but my transition from having a chaotic roommate to being the chaotic roommate.
I had an annoying start to my morning. I found out that my bank rejected my request to increase my credit limit. They’d sent me a letter last year pre-approving me for this amount; I didn’t take it because, at the time, I didn’t need that much. Well, I will need that much for my crowns in January, so I needed to either increase my credit limit or set up an appointment with the bank so that I can walk out with a briefcase full of fat stacks. Or a duffel pack, but I don’t own that either.
The annoying part was how they rejected my online request and told me to give them a call if I needed answers. 99% of the time, this leads to them making a complicated compromise for my communication needs. A commonly proposed non-solution, for instance, would have them send me forms to sign off to give someone Power of Attorney to call on my behalf. Revenu Québec, Vidéotron, and Sun Life have all proposed this infantilizing shittiness. Fuck that. I’m an adult.
How come we can file our income taxes online, which have a colossal amount of personal information, but I need working ears to communicate with banking personnel? Resistance is imminent, and it fills me with premature rage.
Within my online bank account, I also learn that Best Buy has issued me a refund for the external hard drive I’d ordered from them, for which I’d been waiting two weeks. I have been storing bytes upon bytes of personal information on Yann’s hard drive and need to take back ownership before he moves out.
His move-out date is January 1st. I don’t plan on forfeiting the security and pet deposit, so I’m aiming to be living somewhere less unaffordable by the 1st of February. Besides, midway through the month, there’s not much left but scams and studio suites in Crack Towers. I should keep trying anyway in case something for February pops up this early. Alas, 2020 isn’t the year for good fortunes.
I try to give myself a mental pep-talk every morning, like this: