Wrong number to call
Giggle, just a little. Else, you might have to cry. Today, I came across a story (out of Toronto) detailing some of the nonsense received at the 911 dispatch centre. Turns out that the police don’t offer emergency rides to catch your train, and a bank card that is jammed in an ATM is not that urgent. Who knew?
Well, I did. And if I did, so should others. There’s a reason for services that deal with emergencies, and your momentary inconvenience isn’t on their list. Take solace, silly people. At least you provided a few minutes of easy comedy for the rest of us. Seriously, I’d love to have a mix tape of such content, except that it would involve (you guessed it) misuse of the service. Perhaps a TV station can fake this stuff, and run a few ads in the middle to offset costs.
On a more serious note, I went to town for my medical appointment this morning, and all went well. We had no stormy weather, or traffic jams, or any unexplained detours en route. Once in the office (early) we had to wait for less than a minute before getting the signal to enter the inner sanctum. And I recognized all of the letters on the wall display, which is actually a nod to my Grade One teacher. She did a good job!
I have to find a well stocked hardware store, stat. One that actually keeps more than a few sizes of nuts and bolts around for sale. I suddenly need something called a 3/8-24 and the answer isn’t “-23.625”. Again, a nod to my Grade Four arithmetic teacher, who worked long hours to get me over the hump of mixed number. Now, back to my search for a stove bolt.
