Perhaps I've been in bed too long. I attempted to make contact with the outside world today via Verizon and Golds Gym. Each experience left me thinking that perhaps I should plan on spending the rest of my life in bed. Or at least avoiding any unnecessary conversations with people.
I had to call Verizon because the bill is in my name and the caller ID has my last name on it. This poses a problem for husband, who uses our phone as his primary business phone. So when he calls business associates, they believe I am calling. They do not know me. I have suggested to husband that he simply change his last name to mine and alleviate this telephone identity crisis. He, in turn, suggested quite thoughtfully that I call Verizon and have them change the name on our caller ID...hm. That's another way to go, I guess.
So today I did call Verizon. First, I got to talk to this happy little computer voice. I felt like the poor pathetic credit card commercial guy saying, "Big boy" and "fluffy" into his cell phone while commuting to work...I told them my phone number, I said, "calling features" and "change calling features"....only that sounded like, "I don't know--change calling features??" and I was afraid that the happy little computer voice would come back with "I have no idea what you just said." But she didn't (smart happy little computer voice!) and she then sent me on my way to a real live person....
And that was pretty uneventful until I tried to spell husband's last name to the rocket scientist on the other side of the phone line. Now granted, its not, under most circumstances, considered an "easy" name by most. However, this woman, seeming to have a very limited understanding of the alphabet, had an even more challenging time of it. I'm still not 100% sure what is going to come up as our caller ID when we call friends or business associates, but at least I tried. Of course, now husband and I may BOTH have to change our names to match our caller ID. That seems like a fair compromise, because I'm not calling those people again...
Then, I had to call Golds Gym. This is the call that tickles me to no end and makes me think cutting off ties with all of civilization may be a reasonable idea. (Of course, I realize this means that I am equating golds gym with civilization--that's just wrong).
See, I haven't been to the gym since October of last year. The first trimester is notoriously exhausting and I basically spent October through December dragging myself home from work by my fingernails and crawling to the couch. There were nights that I didn't make it to 8 o'clock in the evening. I seriously considered rigging my desk at work up a la George Constanza, so I could take naps in the middle of the day. I got winded walking up the stairs too quickly. I certainly wasn't going to make it to a spinning or kick-boxing class. The thought makes me giggle.
Then enter the complications--by mid-December it was clear I might have the old incompetent cervix, so I was told to "take it easy", which I interpretted as "don't exercise and make sure you get lots of ice cream" (if ice-cream consumption could fix an incompetent cervix, mine would be made of steel; I know it's a long shot, but I'm hoping...)
So now finally, after 6 months of Golds getting $40 of my hard-earned money (or my "sitting around on my fat ass and still getting paid" money), I decided today to cancel the membership. I was told by Biff, or Buff, or whoever he was, "Hey, no problem, just come on down and fill out the cancellation form". Um....no. So I explain the situation. I said "pregnant" and "bedrest" and you would have thought I had said, "leprosy" and "ebola".
"OH MY GOD; HOW AWFUL!" was Buff Biff's response. Yes, brainless, muscle-bound jock, it's awful....HUH???
Anyway, he pulls up my membership information and apparently I signed a year-long contract. Makes sense. Why wouldn't a 33 year old woman (hey, I was 33 when I signed up) in good health be able to sign a gym contract for a year?! So muscle-head tells me that they can only cancel my membership if I have proof of permanent relocation or of disability. Clearly, considering I am suffering from a rare case of leprosy-ebola, that will qualify as a 'disability'. But this is the kicker---
I have to get a note from my doctor. I cannot wait for my doctor's rounds tomorrow...
I am a 34 year old woman and I need a note to get out of gym class.