You Can Count Me Out
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Have you heard there is a Census going on in this country? Like a good citizen, I completed my form the first time it arrived. And thought of the wasted paper when the same form arrived again. There was a deadline, and I responded within that time frame. Turns out they didn’t receive our form. SO…they came knocking on our door. Despite having a babysitter and people waiting for us, my wonderful husband answered each question while the lady filled out the paperwork very slowly. Again. Me, I wouldn’t have done it again because I had already filled it out once before. (Lance is way nicer than me.) Last week, we received a phone call every night of the week about some of his answers. Who knows, maybe slow writer screwed it up. I told Lance to call, but he never did. SO…they came knocking again…
Only this time, we were out of town. And since they couldn’t harass us, they decided to go with my neighbor instead. While my sweet little Jessica is very mature, she is clearly a MINOR. But did that stop the Census man from asking her to complete the form for us? NO. And yes, the guy knew she didn’t live in this house. And when I was yelling at him on Monday evening, a holiday no less, he admitted he knew she was a minor at that time too.
I came home from a great weekend to another message from this guy, telling us he saw our car in the driveway and we weren’t answering the door. We had been home for less than thirty minutes, and he was at the door. I couldn’t wait to talk to this guy. Yes, I am the type of person who loves to complain or write letters. I rarely have the chance to follow through, but this time would be different. He would indeed be sorry he bothered my sweet neighbor and that he was messing with bedtime. I admit I was rather harsh, but I think he got the point about not asking neighbors to help out with a government form.
In the end, he got what he wanted. Lance refused to let me send him away. (And I had to be the obedient wife and let him answer the questions for the third time.) The man could never explain what information they needed despite me asking over and over. I did get his name so I could complain to a supervisor.
From Jilly:
How infuriating!! Lance is way nicer than I would have been! I would have been harsh and NOT given him any more info, AND called to complain. Ugh. People have some nerve!
From Nicole:
I know…Lance is the one person I know in the whole world who sits and listens to cold callers on the phone before politely declining. Sadly, I have not learned that lesson from him. (Plus, he said I was so mean that if the scene had been a documentary, I would have looked like the bad guy, not the census man!)
How much info can they need???
From Jilly:
Ha! I have a few guy friends that are like that. They also say I am the bad guy when I complain about horrible service at stores or restaurants. But I think there is only so much disrespect a customer can take before they are obligated to say something. And hopefully the next customer is not treated so poorly!
From KatyStrattons:
Hey Nicole. Remember me? I feel your pain. Every time there is a for someone to take a harsh tone with a "service person" I am at the ready…but nooooooo Neil won't let me. I'm "too mean". What? I get so frustrated. Hope to see you at Clint/Shea's party. It's been too long. Like…2 kids too long.