gratitude-a-thon day 693: why do rules always have to apply

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Don’t you hate when bureaucracy mandates something that makes your life suck?

I left my bank card in Woods Hole at a Cafe I’ve been going to for literally 30 years. My sister even worked there at one point. It’s one of my favorite places to plunk down and eat a big fat breakfast, while the larger sea going vessels force up the draw bridge, which says “Summer people, summer not.”

So, I paid for breakfast, because Peter left his wallet in the car, and because I usually don’t pay I guess, I left my stupid bank card on the check and moseyed on out of there. In an effort to travel light, I am always shoving my bank card in my jeans, or yoga pants pocket, or coat, which inevitably, at least, four times a year leads to disaster. The disaster being that I lose the damn thing, have to cancel it, and change my card number on all my online purchasing places, plus live without a card for like a week.

BREAKING NEWS, I AM COMPLETELY AWARE THAT THIS IS IN NO WAY A TRAGEDY, OR EVEN THAT YOU WILL HAVE 2 MILLISECONDS OF SYMPATHY FOR ME, OR THAT I SHOULD EVEN BE TAKING UP SPACE TALKING ABOUT SUCH A MUNDANE AND RIDICULOUSLY CARELESS ACT THAT IS 100% MY OWN FAULT.

But fuck that.

Anyway, I called and asked the person I spoke with if my card was there. To which he replied it was. I asked him if he could mail it, to which he said, he was leaving, and maybe he could ask accounting to mail it, but that he would call me back. When he didn’t call me back, today, I spoke with my sister and asked her to contact one of her besties who has lived in Woods Hole forever (lucky) and practically runs the town, to go pick it up and mail it. Well, of course, Jane, the nicest person in the world,  was more than accommodating and did it speedy quick. But they wouldn’t give it to her, on account of she wasn’t me.

So, I called, nicely explaining my dilemna, and they said they could not give it out, and they could not mail it. It was all against the law and the only way I could get it would be to go in with a photo I.D.

I know this is for my own good. Gosh darn identity theft.

But fuck that.

So, anyway, I will once again cancel another bank card again today, have a bad taste in my mouth next time I go to the cafe, which probably won’t be til next summer, but still, and tattoo my hand with “WHERE’S YOUR CARD?” Gratitude goes to Jane for being so nice, and willing to go out of her way to help me out. I love that. I just love that. But like, that’s all I love about this story.

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