Anyway, driving the Spousal Unit into work this morning, she lowers the visor and a check falls out. Insurance payment to some Restoration Company, to the tune of $431.00.
I got home and looked at the map on Yahoo, the company is about two miles away, I could send it via a Gubmint Uniformed Messenger. No, I bet the Company really needs the bucks now and no telling how long the Post Office will sit on this little check. So I drive there to drop it off, like a good Doo-rite. Once I arrived, nobody was there (strange) but I called the number posted. The "Dood" answers like he just woke up. At the crack of 0930. I asked if he was the "Company" and he realizes that this is a professional call and not some fifteen year old chick calling to find out if her virtue was still there...
Sorry, I digressed a bit, can't help what I think while conversations are going no effing-where.
So Mr. Groggy apologizes for not answering with Company Name. I tell him I have a check that I found in a Loaner Car from Mercedes, ring any bells?
I grew weary with the direction this was all going, even though the entire conversation was 25 seconds looong. I asked where I could leave the check where it would not go walkies (The Neighborhood is less than savory), and I was directed to the Gutter Installers located across the street.
At least the "Dood" will probably eat this week, after cashing the check at one of those check cashing joints that rip off the poor. One does what one can to support society, I suppose.
So endeth the feel good story for the day.
Nell! Where's NELL? Every Dudley Doright story requires Nell!
I think I was considering Nell when I told the fable of the 15 year old girl...
Post a Comment