There’s “Flash Friday,” and the “Friday Five,” so here’s my Friday collection.
Cherchez les poissons:
(two tiny bass and another fish)
Sign by the roadside:
And finally, an image from a convenience store. I was dripping creek water, and I picked up my breakfast, around 4 in the afternoon, a hot dog, fresh off the burner at the store. Dog looked like it’d been on the burner for days. Some cheap yellow mustard, a stale bun? I’m good to go.
In front of me were two people. One was a fairly ragged looking guy with long hair, unpressed shirt half-buttoned, hair sort of longish and scraggly, maybe hadn’t shaved all day, sandals, shorts, wait, that could be me. Anyway, he stepped up the counter and fumbled with some cash. He had an expensive (and relatively good) bottle of red wine, Merlot, and a bag of chips. Odd combination, good wine, cheap chips?
Behind him, ahead of me? A tall, stately and elegantly clad lady with long, blonde hair, purple toenail polish that matched her fingernail polish that probably matched accessories, for all I know, and it looked like she was in the leftover part of the day’s suit, slacks and a white shirt. not sure about the sandals, probably a designer label. Cheap beer. One, sixteen ounce can. In a barrio coozie – brown, single serving bag.
Travel, customer service & ranting (& raving)
Not necessarily in that order.
Weirdness:
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[/style>I was sitting under the shade at Sandy’s, one fine spring afternoon, and a lady kept waving at us, me, specifically, from a car, while in line for the drive-through. She gets out, then realizes that I’m not who she thought I was, but we carry on a conversation. She decides she wants to get a reading from me – just another person who wants an astrological consultation – my bread and butter – the day job.
I get a call, a few weeks later, we set up a time and place for a meeting. No show. That was one of the days I’d left the cell phone at home, write it off as my mistake, and not worry about it.
We set up a tentative second meeting. I also scheduled other appointments on either side, so when it was a second no-show, I wasn’t really wasting any time.
Set up a third meeting. 5:30 PM. No show. At 5:45, I call. “I’ll be there by 6.” At 6:15, I call, “I’ll be there by 7.” At 7:30, two hours of my time, I leave. I did try calling one more time, but the line was busy.
Then, the next morning, I get this message, something to the effect of, “I was there at 7:30, and I don’t know why you don’t want to come to my place, instead?”
I am righteously indignant, and I’m not about to do anything that involves possibly high-profile (or unstable) clients when I’m mad. I’ll cool off before returning a call. The first, I can blame myself, the second? I was possibly at fault for not confirming for sure. But the third time? There’s no excuse. So far, I haven’t been cool and collected enough to return the call.
There’s a reason why I pick public places for readings, neutral ground, and it’s both for the safety of the client and, more importantly to me, myself.
It’s also an organic process – one I’ve developed over the years, and so far, it’s proven to be very effective. I quit doing initial consultations in at my place years ago. Many years ago. Bad form.
I’ve got a full schedule from now until, like, mid-June with appointments. And I’m booked just about every weekend, from now until, I think, like September. The other evening? That was two hours I could’ve been fishing. I did pick up two other clients, while I was waiting, so the time wasn’t a complete waste. Plus a free meal. But still.
Spotty postings this weekend:
Depends on the WiFi in El Paso & Las Cruces, I can usually grab e-mail, but my sweet Leo hostess has a mean firewall for her kiddies, and that barrier seems to interfere with some of my connections. Maybe a coffee shop in the area has free wireless.
Scorpio notations:
My own, dear sweet mother, Ma Wetzel, had an issue with her cell phone, as in it dialed me the other morning. She claims it wasn’t her. Can’t argue with caller ID, though. So I reminded her to check the scope for Scorpio, and she laughed, then proceeded to tell me how right it was, because those “darn, meddling squirrels were uprooting the flowers, eating the bird food,” and otherwise wreaking havoc in her domestic life. In other bits of family gossip, the political cousin? She’s moved from one office in Washington to another. I’d mention names and offices, but that would attract undue attention. One year at a family gathering, she’s the one who exclaimed, “Omigawd, my secretary reads your stuff every day. She thinks you’re funny.”
Runs in the family?
Unrelated:
Why I find this stuff? I don’t know. The little voices suggested it (Fat Boy Slim video), but, Not Safe For Work (nekkid girl dancing).
Go Spurs (the very unofficial professional athletics desk/division of astrofish.net):
Closing quote, says it all:
“What we have done really well is we haven’t screwed it up. But that’s it.”
Nota Bene:
I work San Antonio about once a month these days, so, by default, I’m now a “Go Spurs” guy.
Plus, I wondered why I always liked El Paso. Same with San Antonio. Leave it to a Virgo guy to explain it to me:
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[/style>>So you’re headed out to El Paso tomorrow. You know, that’s “ my hometown.”>>Really? I love El Paso.
>I was actually going to offer you my condolences.
>>(Laughs) No, I love El Paso, for the same reason I love San Antonio. It’s one of the few cities that are unaffected by suburbanization. I mean, El Paso’s definitely grown, but it’s still pretty old school there.
