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Tuesday, November 18, 2003
The job search continues, and why shouldn't it after productive days like yesterday:
Letter to Julie riding in the passenger seat atop the pile of cds and other debris that have accumulated there over the course of my extended "vacation," I drove down to the post office in Carrboro. I chose the Carrboro PO simply because it is right along Hwy 54 with ample parking, as opposed to the Chapel Hill PO where along with the parking inconvenience one must battle through the crowd of skateboard punks hanging around out front and risk being impaled by their spiked hair.
Upon arriving at the Carrboro post office I grabbed 37 cents out of my change cup and strolled on inside to buy a stamp. I realized once I walked through the door that I couldn't just slap a 37 cent stamp on a letter if I expected it to make it all the way to Central America, so I headed back to the car to grab the 80 cents that I eventually remembered it cost to send a letter via air mail overseas. Change in hand I hit the lock and slammed the car door. It was right as I reached to my belt loop to feel for my keys that I spotted them lying on the passenger seat on top of the Pat Green cds and right beside my cell phone. Go figure, the one time that having a cell phone would be useful in a semi-emergency situation it would be unavailable!
Spotting what appeared to be a pay phone at the adjacent gas station, I headed to the Citgo with the 80 cents in my pocket. Initial efforts to call for help, however, were thwarted by the fact that neither of the pay phones had phone books. So, I proceeded to cross the highway to the shopping plaza, and after walking the length of the strip mall, found two more pay phones...neither holding a phone book. Back across the parking lot I went to the Amoco station, and needless to say, there was no phone book at that pay phone either. Crossing the highway once more I went into the Citgo station and asked for a phone book, and to my surprise, they found one. I quickly memorized the phone number for Campus Police (not being able to find the number for Carrboro police in an Orange County phone book!), headed out to pay phone number one at the Citgo station, and was promptly warned by the lady in front of me that the speaker on this phone did not function properly. On to pay phone number two at the Citgo station. I inserted my 50 cents (so much for "here's a quarter call someone who cares," you couldn't even get a hold of someone who didn't care for a quarter these days) into the machine, dialed the number, and was greeted with a recording, "please insert 50 cents." What the heck? So, I stuck a third quarter into the slot in a futile attempt to knock the other two into the right place. Gone were my three quarters leaving me with only a nickel!
Spotting my bank up on the hill next to the Food Lion on the far end of the shopping center, I crossed the highway for a third time to get some cash from the ATM. After circling the building I was astonished to find that the only ATM was in the drive-thru, so I fell into the line of cars on foot and proceeded to walk through the drive-thru of the bank in order to withdraw my money. Crisp, new twenty in hand I trotted back down the hill to the Food Lion where I got change for my twenty and found a pay phone that actually worked.
"Hello, Campus Police."
"Hi, I've locked my keys in my car and I was wondering if you could help me out."
"Ok..."
"The thing is, um, I'm in Carrboro."
"I'm sorry, sir, but that is out of our jurisdiction."
"Alright, well can you give me the number for Carrboro police."
"Hold on."
With no pen available I keep repeating the number over in my head over and over.
"Hello, Carrboro Police Department."
"Hi, I'm at the post office and I've locked my keys in my car, can you help me?'
"I'm sorry, sir, but our officers are not allowed to perform that service. Have you tried asking someone inside the post office if they could help you?"
"No, I hadn't."
"I'm sorry...good luck."
"Whatever."
No, it hadn't occurred to me that perhaps the United States Postal Service might keep a slim jim handy! But with no other ideas I walked back across the parking lot and the highway and went into the post office, mark of shame stamped on my forehead.
The man at the desk suggested I call a locksmith, and having nowhere else to turn, I gave in to the fact that I was going to have to pay heftily for my stupidity. The postal worker was able to provide a phone book, but "unfortunately I don't have a phone that you can use." After writing down the number for JRs Car Unlocking Service (that just sounds like extortion) I headed back across the highway, through the parking lot, down the strip mall, back to the only working pay phone in a two mile radius.
"JR, how can I help you?"
"Yeah, I'm locked out of my car and I was wondering if you could help me."
"Of course I can, buddy, but it's gonna be about an hour before I can get there."
"Fine. I'm at the Carrboro post office."
"You mean right down by old Andy's auto shop?"
"uhh...."
"On 54?"
"Oh...right."
I didn't see an auto shop anywhere, but he sounded like he knew what I was talking about, so I hopped over to Arby's for lunch while I waited, praying that he would show up in the right place.
After lunch, I spent another 30 minutes sitting on the hood of my car in the post office parking lot thinking "at least I don't have it as bad as the guy parked right beside me." His truck wouldn't start and he was waiting for the tow truck to come take him away. We silently commiserated as we sat on our respective hoods awaiting the outrageous bill that laid ahead of us.
JR arrived soon enough and my plight was ended. He popped the lock on my car and I was on my way...but wait a minute, I still hadn't mailed the letter. So, back to the post office I went to complete the simple 30 second task that I had set out to perform a mear 3 hours before.
Letter to Julie riding in the passenger seat atop the pile of cds and other debris that have accumulated there over the course of my extended "vacation," I drove down to the post office in Carrboro. I chose the Carrboro PO simply because it is right along Hwy 54 with ample parking, as opposed to the Chapel Hill PO where along with the parking inconvenience one must battle through the crowd of skateboard punks hanging around out front and risk being impaled by their spiked hair.
Upon arriving at the Carrboro post office I grabbed 37 cents out of my change cup and strolled on inside to buy a stamp. I realized once I walked through the door that I couldn't just slap a 37 cent stamp on a letter if I expected it to make it all the way to Central America, so I headed back to the car to grab the 80 cents that I eventually remembered it cost to send a letter via air mail overseas. Change in hand I hit the lock and slammed the car door. It was right as I reached to my belt loop to feel for my keys that I spotted them lying on the passenger seat on top of the Pat Green cds and right beside my cell phone. Go figure, the one time that having a cell phone would be useful in a semi-emergency situation it would be unavailable!
Spotting what appeared to be a pay phone at the adjacent gas station, I headed to the Citgo with the 80 cents in my pocket. Initial efforts to call for help, however, were thwarted by the fact that neither of the pay phones had phone books. So, I proceeded to cross the highway to the shopping plaza, and after walking the length of the strip mall, found two more pay phones...neither holding a phone book. Back across the parking lot I went to the Amoco station, and needless to say, there was no phone book at that pay phone either. Crossing the highway once more I went into the Citgo station and asked for a phone book, and to my surprise, they found one. I quickly memorized the phone number for Campus Police (not being able to find the number for Carrboro police in an Orange County phone book!), headed out to pay phone number one at the Citgo station, and was promptly warned by the lady in front of me that the speaker on this phone did not function properly. On to pay phone number two at the Citgo station. I inserted my 50 cents (so much for "here's a quarter call someone who cares," you couldn't even get a hold of someone who didn't care for a quarter these days) into the machine, dialed the number, and was greeted with a recording, "please insert 50 cents." What the heck? So, I stuck a third quarter into the slot in a futile attempt to knock the other two into the right place. Gone were my three quarters leaving me with only a nickel!
Spotting my bank up on the hill next to the Food Lion on the far end of the shopping center, I crossed the highway for a third time to get some cash from the ATM. After circling the building I was astonished to find that the only ATM was in the drive-thru, so I fell into the line of cars on foot and proceeded to walk through the drive-thru of the bank in order to withdraw my money. Crisp, new twenty in hand I trotted back down the hill to the Food Lion where I got change for my twenty and found a pay phone that actually worked.
"Hello, Campus Police."
"Hi, I've locked my keys in my car and I was wondering if you could help me out."
"Ok..."
"The thing is, um, I'm in Carrboro."
"I'm sorry, sir, but that is out of our jurisdiction."
"Alright, well can you give me the number for Carrboro police."
"Hold on."
With no pen available I keep repeating the number over in my head over and over.
"Hello, Carrboro Police Department."
"Hi, I'm at the post office and I've locked my keys in my car, can you help me?'
"I'm sorry, sir, but our officers are not allowed to perform that service. Have you tried asking someone inside the post office if they could help you?"
"No, I hadn't."
"I'm sorry...good luck."
"Whatever."
No, it hadn't occurred to me that perhaps the United States Postal Service might keep a slim jim handy! But with no other ideas I walked back across the parking lot and the highway and went into the post office, mark of shame stamped on my forehead.
The man at the desk suggested I call a locksmith, and having nowhere else to turn, I gave in to the fact that I was going to have to pay heftily for my stupidity. The postal worker was able to provide a phone book, but "unfortunately I don't have a phone that you can use." After writing down the number for JRs Car Unlocking Service (that just sounds like extortion) I headed back across the highway, through the parking lot, down the strip mall, back to the only working pay phone in a two mile radius.
"JR, how can I help you?"
"Yeah, I'm locked out of my car and I was wondering if you could help me."
"Of course I can, buddy, but it's gonna be about an hour before I can get there."
"Fine. I'm at the Carrboro post office."
"You mean right down by old Andy's auto shop?"
"uhh...."
"On 54?"
"Oh...right."
I didn't see an auto shop anywhere, but he sounded like he knew what I was talking about, so I hopped over to Arby's for lunch while I waited, praying that he would show up in the right place.
After lunch, I spent another 30 minutes sitting on the hood of my car in the post office parking lot thinking "at least I don't have it as bad as the guy parked right beside me." His truck wouldn't start and he was waiting for the tow truck to come take him away. We silently commiserated as we sat on our respective hoods awaiting the outrageous bill that laid ahead of us.
JR arrived soon enough and my plight was ended. He popped the lock on my car and I was on my way...but wait a minute, I still hadn't mailed the letter. So, back to the post office I went to complete the simple 30 second task that I had set out to perform a mear 3 hours before.
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