The Lost Hour (Perdus)

It's Sunday evening. I have to go pick up my parents in about an hour. Or, rather, their flight gets in in about an hour. I'll leave in maybe 50 minutes. It takes remarkably little time to get to the airport from my place, and it'll take people a couple of minutes for my parents to get off the plane, so I don't want to get there right at 7:30. Parking at their rendez-vous area costs $1/10 minutes, with a maximum of 20 minutes, and the damned meters only take loonie and toonies. >-(

Man, I'm tired. Work was, for once, difficult. There was this mix-up as I was working on backup cash, and it wasn't really anybody's fault, but a salesman got yelled at by a waiting customer and lost the sale because I was told that I needed the salesman to call for authorisation for this credit card payment for another of his customers. I'd say it was the fault of the person who told me that, but I like her. ^_^ But, you know, that is one of the more annoying things that I've heard of lately, is credit cards that have a lower purchase limit than they do credit limit. I mean, I understand how someone with a $20'000 limit on their credit card might want to limit the extend of any possible fraud, but if you have sit on the phone going through those "For blahblahblah, press one. For blehblehbleh, press two" menus enough times, it gets pretty tiresome. I think I'm gonna go find that website that was on the news a couple of weeks ago, the one that tells you the fastest way to get to a real person through any automated menu, and then post that in all the little black cashier binders next the credit card company numbers.

And don't even get me started on the guy who wanted to order a CD over the phone by catalogue number and then decided that the 0 at the beginning of the catalogue number was irrelevant. He spent nearly 10 minutes lecturing me on how Kripa was better than I was at finding stuff. He's a regular customer, too, so I couldn't even be just stiff enough to him to make him not come back. Bah.

I have run out of dog biscuits, and I think my dog's finally realized that I've hidden his treat ball. He was wandering around looking vaugely distressed earlier, like he knew that a part of his soul was missing, but he couldn't remember which part or where it might be. I'm sure he'll have a heart attack or an aneurism or something when my parents get home. Or, well, more relistically, he'll do that thing where he jumps too high and too enthusiastically on his hind legs and then lands the wrong way on the tile, therefore slipping and falling on his back. It's actually kind of funny if you forget how messed up his back actually is. ^_^

I'm assuming that my parents will want to go out for dinner, having just sat on a plane from Vancouver, which, of course, does not serve food. Peter brought this up, and I can't figure it out, either: Why would a flight route from Itlay to Edmonton get to Vancouver before here? Anyways, I'm trying not to eat so that I can go out with my parents, but I'm rather hungry. So I had some pineapple tidbits and a scone, and hopefully I'll still be able to eat a full meal later. My parents prefer full meals. They're like that... Anyway, I'm gonna suggest that we go to the Keg. ^_^ It's actually even on the way home from the airport, now that they have one in South Common. ^_^

Woah. That's a lot of anime-inspired smiley faces...

(See, I like to leave off blog posts with something light and final-feeling like that, but, the truth is, I still have half an hour before I'm going to leave, and I don't know what else to do. And now I've written myself into a corner where I can't even blog. Damn.)

(Ohohoh! I know!! I'll go for coffee on my way out. That way I can leave five minutes sooner, be awake when I greet my parents _and_ have something in my rumbly stomache! Man, I'm good.)