But You Are Entitled to the Magazines!

I am trying, very hard, not to be angry at people. Especially stupid people, rude people, bad drivers, and people paid to enforce stupid policies. I see the people texting while driving and I fight the urge to get in front of them and slam on my brakes. That may be too harsh a lesson for them (and me). I switched to the automated postal machines so I don't feel the urge to throttle the slow, chatty postal workers. I recognize that the customer service rep with a strong Indian accent likely has no decision authority, is doing all he can, and is NOT the problem.

So I really had to remind myself not to be angry at the woman this morning from Putnam financial services. My mom and step-father set up college accounts for all of the girls (and all of their other grandkids) and have generously been putting money in to the account on every birthday and holiday for several years. Since Kaileigh is off to college next week, I've been trying to get Putnam to send the accumulated dollars to Mizzou.

By the way, I have a new bumper sticker: "My daughter and my money (and my family's money and my daughter's part-time job money and the federal government's money that we have to pay back over 10 years starting within 6 months of graduation) go to Mizzou."

So we filled out the paperwork and sent it in. They called my step-father and asked for a tuition statement, and he forwarded the request to me. Sounds reasonable. I call in to find out where to send the statement (which I have in hand). The Putnam woman asks me seventy three questions, all to confirm the account. I actually got many of them wrong, since the account is in my mother's name, at my step-father's work address, for my daughter. It took awhile to figure out that combination, with (I'll call her Lorlene) telling me "That is not the name we have on file," or "that is not the address we have on file."

I asked for hints, but apparently we weren't actually playing a game.

When I finally got the right combination, I moved to the bonus round. Where I get to ask for their fax number so that I can fax them the document they requested. It was at this point that Lorlene told me I was not even a contestant.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Smith, but the instructions must come from the account holder."
"But Lorlene, there are no instructions to give. You asked for a document and I just need to know where to send it."
"The account holder can call this number (xxxxxxxx), answer seventy three questions, and then give us the instructions."
"Like, 'please tell me where to tell my son where to fax the document that you requested but wouldn't tell him where to fax it'?"
"Yes."
"So, Lorlene, let's say I figured out your fax number on my own (I'm actually very clever). What would happen if I did that and just faxed this over? Would you accept it and transfer the money to help my daughter get a higher education?"
"No, sir. Not without instructions from the account holder."
"Which we sent a few weeks ago."
"Yes."

This is the precise moment I heard a 'pop' in my head and realized I needed to finish the call. I thanked Lorlene profusely and hung up, wishing her a lovely day.

It brought to mind a conversation I had with a salesman years ago who was trying to sell me magazines. For whatever reason, I talked with him (let's call him Niles - he did have an English accent) at length on the phone, probably because I was dumbfounded by his logic.

Niles: "Mr. Smith, I am calling to congratulate you! Your name has been chosen as a winner. You are entitled to these three magazines." (the specific names have been lost to history, but were likely - Readers' Digest, Maxim, and Garden Gnome Monthly)
"What does that mean, 'entitled'?"
"Well Mr. Smith, you are a winner and are entitled to these magazines at 1/2 off their cover price."
"So, I would have to pay for the magazines?"
"Mr. Smith, you are entitled to these magazines."
"So Niles, who chose me as a winner? And how and when did I enter your 'contest'?"
"Mr. Smith, you were chosen as a winner and are entitled to these magazines at 1/2 off the cover price!"

Pop.

So I got the magazines. Hey, I'll take what I'm entitled to.