Good food and bad service

Ceviche on a tostada

We had some good food experiences over the weekend. Christian went yesterday morning to the Hot Box Biscuit Club downtown and brought home biscuits with sausage gravy. Heated again, it was super, rich and creamy gravy, the biscuit fluffy and soft, the sausage just spicy enough,

Breakfast was quickly followed by lunch—homemade scallop ceviche from a neighbor, tangy with lots of lime. We were told to serve it on a tostada shell, which we need. Jordan ate two helpings and got herself the recipe, said she could eat it once a week. It was a treat for me because so often ceviche has shrimp in it, and I am allergic to shrimp—sob!

Pot roast ready to simmer dall day

And last night Christian served us roast and potatoes. He had started the meat in the crock pot early in the day and let in simmer in a rich sauce. Tonight, Jordan is off to spend the night with a girlfriend at her lake house, leaving with the assurance that “the boys” will take care of me. They did indeed, both Christian and Jacob coming out for happy hour on the patio. Christian and I lingered until seven-thirty, when he brought me another hot biscuit and sausage gravy for supper. Tomorrow, enough leftover roast for a sandwich. Jordan meantime is enjoying happy hour in an idyllic setting.

My rant for the day is aimed at ATT, notorious for poor customer service. I spent at least an hour on the phone today, talked to four “service representatives,” made a payment, and still ended with a balance due, which means I have to go through it all again to sort out the balance due.

Jordan had tried twice to pay my cell phone bill,  sone of the chores she took over when I had surgery and was in rehab and has just kept doing. But ATT declined the card. Turns out that part was our fault—I had to get a new card, and she forgot to change the online stored information. It took two representatives to sort that out. The online screen showed a $346 balance; the automated voice that answers the phone and two reps assured me it was $207. I wanted to pay over the phone since the card had been rejected, I didn’t want to go through the automated system. That recorded voice warned me there would be a $5 charge. I protested that and the second rep processed the payment—up to a point. Then something happened to the phone—I could hear the rep, but he couldn’t hear me. No choice, I hit end.

So I had to start all over again, but with a hitch. I had to make sure that first payment hadn’t gone through. Finally I was assured that it had not, but once again it took two reps to make the payment.

And after all that, I still had a balance with the alarming word: overdue. So tonight, I’ll get a class of wine and try one more time. ATT apparently doesn’t have a chat service, which I guess is okay because that is often a frustrating experience too.

Part of my frustration is dealing with representatives in faraway places with heavily accented English. I grow weary of saying, “Slow down. I’m 81 years old and hard of hearing.” They slow down momentarily and then pick up speed again. I admit to impatience—and a bit of rudeness creeps in. I was apologetic, and twice today the reps assured me there was no problem, they understood. Since I am usually Pollyanna-polite, it upsets me that my manners slip.

And a final gratitude for the day—to the Supreme Court, which passed a landmark decision protecting the work life of gay and transgender people and let stand California’s sanctuary laws, despite claims from the trump administration. Some days things just seem to be working out for the good guys.

Jordan's happy hour at the lake