when bad experiences make good stories
2006-07-04 | 11:07 p.m.

I'd just like to repeat my philosophy of life here:

Nothing that happens is all bad if you get a funny story out of it.

Today I spent an utterly fruitless lunch hour at the bank, trying to find out what I had to do to get the second half of my student line of credit released. No one in there seemed to know. And, I mean, come on. There are at least four universities in Montreal, and this particular branch is right across the street from McGill's main gates. You would think someone there would have the contact information for the student lending department (which admittedly, is in Toronto).

It was like something out of a bad Monty Python sketch. I often tell the story of when I used to work kids' birthday parties at the Y, and I'd call to order the pizza:

Me: I need three large pepperoni pizzas for 7:30.
Pizza Guy: Okay, what do you want on them?

Talking to the woman at the bank was kind of like that.

Me: I have a student line of credit that is worth $X per year, over two years. I need to find out what proof you need that I'm actually going back for a second year, so that I can get the second half of the money.
Bank Lady (looking at my account info): It looks like you've already used up most of your line of credit.

Okay... so why exactly did she think I needed the second half of it? Honestly.

Anyway, she asked around and eventually found me a telephone number to call, through which everything would be sorted out. The number?

1-800-4-SCOTIA.

That's the general customer service line.

Gee. I could never have found that number on my own. Good thing I went into the branch office.

Anyway, after sitting five minutes on hold, I got a customer service rep, who listened to basically the same explanation I'd given the lady in the branch, and said she had to transfer me to another department.

After another ten or fifteen mintues on hold, I got another customer service rep. He told me I had reached the wrong place, and gave me another 1-800 number to call. By this time, I had about fifteen minutes left in my lunch break, most of which time was going to be needed to climb back up the hill to the lab.

I didn't actually yell at anyone, but when the woman at the branch asked me (all confidence) whether I'd gotten the information I needed, I gave her a very terse rundown of what had just happened, and left. I ranted the whole story to about four people at the lab, prefacing it each time with "I know this is not a big deal, but it just happened, so I'm still fighting the urge to strangle someone." Or words to that effect.

I also poured the whole story into an email to my mother, who, since she works at the bank, I thought might be able to help out somehow.

She went onto the bank's HR site, tracked down the product manager for student lending, and got all of the information I needed directly from him.

She also told me that my email was hilarious.

So, now that I've got some time between me and it, and now that I've got the problem more or less resolved, I can safely say, well. That was pretty funny.

Also funny-- I decided, what the hell, and signed up on one of those internet dating sites. Just to see.

Man, there are some real winners on those things.

Sometimes, the question that pops into my head when I get a message from someone is, what makes you think I'd like you? Equally often, it's what makes you think you'd like me? I mean, seriously. Drunks and slackers and middle-aged men who use cheezy chat shorthand and guys who use the phrase "traditional family values" ... eck.

And then I got into an IM conversation with someone who answered every question I asked with a single word, then started pestering me for information which, honestly, I wasn't about to give out to just anyone over the internet. No matter how many times I told him, no, he couldn't have my phone number, he just kept wheedling.

Wheedling? Unattractive.

Sending another IM while I'm offline, and then following it up with a sulky message about how I'm ignoring him: Both whiny and moronic, thus spectacularly unattractive.

Failure to understand or respect the word "no"? Unattractive doesn't begin to cover it.

I've actually exchanged a couple of emails with a guy who seems nice. So it's not all weirdos and incompetent wannabe stalkers.

It's pretty mixed. Which, I guess, is only to be expected. I can see getting some good stories out of this.

(Come on. I know some of you have tried this. You must have some good stories.)

...oh, and I don't know if I mentioned this before, but I finally got around to updating my links page. Check it out if you dare!

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