Unfortunately, I made it much harder for myself than I needed to.
There was one of those tear out forms in my magazine on a pre-paid postal card. My identity is hardly worth having, but I was hesitant to send my credit-card info out into the great unknown. So, without thinking about putting it in an envelope, I decided to call the magazine. I was asked to leave my number and they would call me back. But, they didn't. So, I called the editor, who couldn't have been nicer. Had the situation been reversed, I am sure I would have been annoyed at the chutzpah of a reader, making a nuisance call like that. But he transferred me over to the subscription manager, who also asked me to leave a message. Feeling more frustrated than before, I went on line and placed the order, but there was no place that asked for my credit card info. So, I called again, leaving a message that I wanted to pay for what I had ordered. When he called me back, the manager took my card number over the phone. He was mildly surprised that I had gone to so much trouble to pay for what I ordered.
This has to be some shady world we live in.
Next, I tackled the drug provider. Surrounded by all my needed information, I waited and waited and waited to speak to someone who could send me the right size , easy-open caps for my bottles. While I was endlessly hearing that an agent would be with me shortly, my call was interrupted by my CPA who had a few matters she wanted to discuss.
After our conversation, I went online again, and tried to order the caps. Following directions of page after page, I still came up empty. We don't even need the damned caps for a week or two. Finally, after lunch I found another phone number, and,just like that I spoke to a helpful woman who is ordering them for me today.
I'm really not going to get an ulcer, but how many ulcers have I given to the people I do business with?