Whew - What a day!

Self,

I recently had a day of days…not quite a day from hell…but painstaking all the same.
On a Sunday, I had to wake up early enough to make the hour long drive to Ontario, CA for a training session for my business. Of course I was walking out the door of my apartment later than I would have liked. So I was in “racing mode.” I started Thunderbolt, my Nissan Xterra, and hit the I-10 freeway.

I made the trek down the road and got there in enough time to meet one of my co-workers, register for the session and for the two of us to go look for some breakfast. We go around the corner to Jack in the Box. My colleague completes his transaction and I place my order.

“You total is $7.10,” the cashier says.

I pull my wallet out of my pocket, open it to get my ATM card. The rectangular splash of blue against the brown leather is missing. Where the hell is my ATM card. I decide to solve the mystery of the missing ATM card after I take care of the bill. I look for a credit card, they’re all missing too. Oh yeah, I took them out my wallet so I couldn’t use them. By this time enough seconds have ticked away that I’m starting to sense the cashier’s impatience. “Ah, I’m sorry what’s the total again?” I know the total but it was a ploy to politely stall while I now check my cash reserve.

“$7.10, sir.”

I recount the singles in my hand. Shit. The HORROR! Yep, I’m short. Here I am standing in front of a cashier at “Jack in the Crack” wearing, a suit, tie, a shirt with cuff links, nice shoes and I can’t pay for my meal. How embarrassing….the polar opposite of the professional image I was presenting. I look over at my coworker. “Hey Man, you got $2?” Without a word, but with a slight frown, he hands me a $5. I take it, hand the cashier a total of $8. Then gave my coworker all the cash that still remained in my hand.

While waiting for our food, it dawns on me where my ATM card is located. “Hey thanks I get it back to you. I just figured out that I left my ATM card at the bar in the restaurant I had dinner at last night.”

“Cool.” Our individual order numbers are called, we go back to the hotel where the training session is being held, eat in his car and then join another team member for the class.


Fast forward a few exciting hours. (Not really but it was informative.) We break for lunch. Along with three colleagues, I am standing outside the hotel in the heat as we try to decide where we are going to go eat.

“Well someone said there’s a Subway nearby. I had a big bowl of oatmeal so I’m not hungry but I’ll go sit with you,” says Queen C, one of our team’s leaders.

“I’m not feeling well I just want to go sleep a bit in my truck,” says Princes C, a member from a separate team but a really cool person. We all explain to her that we don’t want her to suffer on account of our stomachs so she should go lay down.

“Well I had a fast food breakfast two days in a row so I want a real meal now,” says my rescuer from “Jack in the crack.”

“Yeah, I don’t want fast food either, and Marie Calendar’s is right over there,” I said pointing at the building about 25 yards away. “Aww. Damn – damn – damn!” I just remembered the case of the Missing ATM card. I explain to the three puzzled faces the reason for my outburst. I also realize I’m in worst shape then I was at breakfast because I have used up all my cash.

“Well you gotta eat, so we can pull together to get you something,” says Princess C.

“Yeah, I can’t have you passing out from you diabetes because you didn’t eat, (I am so loved, everybody takes that in to consideration even before I do,)” says Queen C. “But I don’t have my ATM card either, so let’s get $5 subs from Subway.

Crickets – from Mr. Rescuer. I don’t blame him, he did bail me out at breakfast already.

“Well call me and let me know where you go, but I’m going to lay down,” says Princess C as she walks towards her truck. (No, she didn’t fork over any cash per her suggestion.)

“Come on, I’ll drive, let’s go,” says Queen C to Mr. Rescuer and me. We climb in to her truck. She shows us the bowl in which she had her oatmeal and there’s no wonder why she is still full. We drive to where Subway is rumored to be but we don’t see it right a way, however there are a couple other places that we consider patronizing. As Queen C was parking in a little shopping plaza, we spotted the Subway and a non-chain burger spot.

As we are getting out and melting from the heat I let it be known whatever they decide was fine with me since I was dependent on the kindness of others at that moment. Mr. Rescuer heads for the burger joint, Queen C and I follow. We walk inside, instantly I took in the delicious aroma, and as soon as the door closed behind us a server walked in front of us carrying a tray of perfectly golden fried zucchini spears. I was ready, but we take a second to look up at the menu.

“I think I want Subway after all, everything here is fried. I want something healthier,” says Mr. Rescuer. He leads the way out the door, we follow, my head slightly downcast.

As we make our way across the parking lot to the Subway, Queen C, looks in my direction and says, “I have a card for one of [the Ex’s] accounts, let me call him and make sure it’s ok to use it.” She does but only the voicemail answers. However she uses it on my behalf anyway and we had a pleasant lunch. Ironically I find out later that Queen C was perplexed that Mr. Rescuer didn’t offer to chip in to cover my lunch. That’s when I explained to her the scene at breakfast.

When the training class ends, Queen C and I walk out to our cars. Mr. Rescuer had left about two hours earlier. I had thought about doing the same thing based on the fact that I needed to go get my ATM card from the restaurant. However I stayed with the intent of showing professional comradery. Queen C had parked next to me when we returned from lunch so we walked together and chatted.

We say our farewells for the evening and get in our vehicles. I jump in Thunderbolt and start him up, while the engine in Queen C’s truck is roaring. I notice my gas gage is a little less than a quarter full. With an unconscious prayer I decide I have enough to make it home, so I can ride with a Prince of the Realm*, to get my ATM card.

I back out and Queen C pulls out behind me. We caravan back to the freeway and continue to do so for a while on the West bound I-10. Understand, I’m in gas-conservation mode, so I’m not letting Thunderbolt eat-up the pavement as I do usually. However we are still rolling.

I’m sure you know, somewhere just east of I-605, I come up on a sea of red taillights. Queen C had passed by me but wasn’t too far ahead. I creep through the traffic when I think to look at my gas gage again. It was of course lower than it was when I left the hotel and I started to suspect that thanks to the traffic the possibility of getting home was going to be more difficult.

I sent a text message indicating my predicament to Queen C, who as I looked ahead seem to have gotten farther ahead of me and was out of sight. She calls me and offers to get me some gas on her Exxon credit card provided we find the appropriate station.

We had just passed one. We probably should have went back, but we figured it wouldn’t be that hard to find another.

We continue West, while looking for another Exxon Sign that we can see from the freeway. No such luck. We take a stab in the dark and arrange which exit we are going to search for a gas station. Of course as soon as I stop at the first traffic signal after I get off the freeway - my gas light comes on, and now I have maybe five miles worth of gas left. I have never been in this situation before, this is NOT CUTE! We park on a side street in a residential area. I let Queen C know my gas light came on and she lets me know her cell battery is low. So now the plan is she’s going to go look for a station while I stay parked, and she’ll call me to let me know how to get there. Suffice it to say we found one and we both made it home, and I then went to get my ATM card.

I go get my ATM card, with the Prince of the Realm. He and I decide to go get something to eat at Panda Express. My Damn ATM card was declined. I’m perplexed cause I know there’s money in the account. I am thankfully bailed out yet again. Afterwards, I go home and to bed.

The Lesson Here:
ALWAYS BE PREPARED! (even if you are obviously blessed and divinely favored.)

Sincerely,
Pharaoh, loyal subject of the Supreme Creator
* - this is a term I will explain in a later post.