Just Trying to do the Right Thing...

For several days now, I have stared at a blank page searching for inspiration and motivation to write my last blog post in Romania. I have wondered how I'd like it sound and feel but with the intensely dynamic emotions charging through on a moment's notice, I waffle: make some smart ass cracks about my new wardrobe and the cable company's inability to cancel a freakin' contract? Or do I soften my perspective instead to reminisce about the people and places we encountered?  I guess since I don't pay by the word, I can write about all of it though not necessarily in that order. Let's begin with a bitch fest.

People move all the time so it seems that canceling a contract should not be rocket science.  I understand the obligation to payout a contract even with cancellation with or without a fee. Believe me, I get it. That was my intent when I started the whole process but apparently due to the 2014 year comin' round the mountain, Mr. Rep told me their computers could not handle future payments, as if they might blow up in smoke like we all feared during the millennium change. Surely there's a loophole, I insisted. After shoving me off to another line, I bided my time as the line swelled with pensioners and other assorted customers, ignoring the stifling smoke overhead and ebola-infused cough coming from God-knows-where.

Finally, I made it to the hot seat. Ms. Rep again demanded I return their cable box before they could move forward. Triumphantly, I handed her proof that it indeed was returned the visit before.  Though I am pretty sure she fake dialed her fake colleague, she did say that by filing a complaint with their legal department, I could cancel the contract and pay the remaining balance. But of course- my complaint would not be processed for another week. Come back they said.

I came back. I sat down in a vacant seat ready to play. The customers entourage in front of me carefully poured over their packages of documents, delicately looking at their Chopard watches. Corporate account I supposed. Ten minutes turned into twenty, twenty into thirty. Then Ms. Rep spoke to another waiting customer, equally as eager to get his business done, and he stormed off. He left in such a huff papers scattered. Then she turns to me and tells me I had to leave due to her pending coffee break from 1-2pm. Astounded, what else could I do? I know I'm stubborn, but this blew me away. She flat out refused to help me and pointed to the freakin door. Douche baggery at its finest.

Enter, Mark. He silently took my keys after I got to work and set off to settle the matter himself. As we should, Foreign Service folks are obliged to follow up on bills and accounts prior to leaving post. We can't just flash the Diplomat Princess Card and refuse to pay bills, but Mark figured, "they don't know that." After about an hour he came back to work where he filled me in: Ms. Rep told him: no-way, no-how could the contract get cancelled; that I was mistaken and she never told me file a complaint; that she didn't care if we didn't pay the bill.  Washing his hands of her classless attitude, Mark then found another cable office where he somehow convinced them to turn off the cable by the end of the week. We will have three days to go until this madness unfolds. Will our cable bill come to a victorious end or will the saga continue?