Yes, boys and girls, there is an Ultimate Complaint Free World Challenge, and it seems that fate, the universe and everything conspired to slam me with it on my second day of living complaint-free.  What, you might ask?

Healthcare.gov!  Ha, ha.  No, not the website which a kajillion dollars in technical expertise couldn’t get running after a year.  Rather, my Ultimate Challenge to Complaint-Free Living came on the phone.

A peculiarity of enrolling in health insurance through the Marketplace put me in a network which incuded NONE of my healthcare providers without my realizing it.  BCBSofKC had no problem switching me to the correct plan, but required cooperation from an agent at the Marketplace.  With a BCBSofKC saint, I spent an hour on the phone on 12/31/13 getting the problem — well, not solved; but at least documented.  We received assurances that the change coulld be made but, lo and behold “due to a glitch in the system”, we had to wait at least 24 hours before completing the second half of the process.

Which put us on January 1st, when BCBSofKC would be closed (one of the few days, mind you).  We received further assurances that no problem would impede completion of the process on January 2.

So….You guessed it.  The next person, on January 2, adamantly insisted that because it was “past January 1”, we could not complete the process.  Not only was he adamant, he was a little snarky, too. In fact, he insisted that I should get private insurance, not through the Marketplace.  “Why do you want to go through the Marketplace anyway?” he snarled.  When I told him that my reasoning was irrelevant to the process, he snapped back, “I think it’s very relevant.”  Uh, no.

I did not exactly remain calm inwardly, but I remained calm outwardly.  I did not call him the names which rose and clamored within me.  I did insist on establishing what he was saying — since I know all calls are recorded — and that he was refusing to let me speak with or know the name of the supervisor whom he claimed backed up his statements that “no exception could be made and nobody here can make an exception”.

Then, we got a supervisor who, uh, well, made an exception. Shock!

An hour and a half later, the process is several steps further along and resolution is in sight.  Your faithful blogger has not yelled at anyone, nor even felt tempted to do so.  In fact, I felt so grateful for the BCBSofKC lady that I  got the name of her manager from a friend who works there, and wrote a letter of praise.

It occurs to me that a government employee is not really the ultimate test of my remaining complaint-free but a trial run.  I can see drivers cutting me off, sales clerks cracking bubble gum, judges denyng simple requests, opposing counsel insulting my client.  It’s going to be a long year!  But:  I made it through one test, and I’m still standing, stil smiling, and still complaint-free.

When I was little, I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. No joke!  I also wanted to be a writer, and I had a notion that the two goals could be harmonized.

During college, I had to take a pre-teaching lab.  I worked with pre-school mentally retarded children. My heart just melted! I have pictures of the classroom: Little boys rolled in blankets, peeping out from the edges with beautiful smiles and shining eyes.  One girl who never spoke but climbed in my lap and sucked her thumb.  A tiny tiny five year old, diagnosed with some genetic disorder, who wore diapers at age 5.

I dropped out of the lab and switched my major to psychology.  I couldn’t take the painful partings each day; I knew my emotions would not withstand the heartbreak of working with little children if any of them had issues like the kids in my pre-teaching lab.

I made my way to law, where I’ve spent 30 years.  For the last five, I’ve struggled to find a balance between the practice of law and reclaiming writing. I never went back to teaching, except for volunteering in GED programs.

Now I have a new career goal. I want to head the Universal Complaint Department!  Anyone with a complaint — step right up!  But my unit will have a twist:  You leave your complaints in the Complaint Book. You write as much as you want, in the strongest, most vile language you like.  Then — you walk away.  We don’t address your complaint so much as relieving you of the burden of carrying it around!

I’d do this for no pay, even.  Keeper of Complaints!  That’s me!

The day ends with a cup of passion fruit tea, hot, spontaneously brought upstairs by my son who has heard me coughing.  How can anyone complain when such loving moments exist?

The closest I’ve come to a complaint today occurred when the Bed & Breakfast owner asked me how our room had been.  I shared how lovely I found the mix of old and new, the comfort of the bed, and the coffee outside in the little sitting area.  But I mentioned that, although the room smelled lovely, I had a bit of breathing trouble due to my asthma.  But, I hastened to add, “I’m not complaining, the fragrance was nice”.  I told her that when we stayed again, we’d ask to have no room fragrance.  She smiled and her husband said, “When we decided to have a B&B, we wanted our home to meet three criteria:  Smell good, sound good, and look good.”  I assured him that they scored on all three notes.  We parted without any uncomfortable feelings, even though I had mentioned that our bedroom was haunted!

So day one nears its end, and I feel that I’ve succeeded.  One down, 364 to go.

I don’t get much credit for being halfway through the first day of the year without complaining.  We spent the night in a bed & breakfast in Parkville.  I awakened to the gentle cry of a train’s whistle and twinkling Christmas lights from the sitting room outside our bedroom.  I slipped out and made coffee, strains of classical music filling the air, from an iHome strategically placed by the Inn’s proprietor.  The closest I came to “complaining” was a quiet comment that I had not expected the restaurant where we ate on NYE to have a special (a word which here means ‘higher priced’) menu when I planned this surprise evening for my husband’s Christmas present.  But I didn’t disparage the restaurant; I just remarked.  However, echoes of one of my favorite phrases rang in my head: “I’m not complaining, I’m just explaining.”  Maybe?  Maybe not.

Ah.  Challenges!  My other NY resolution (besides relinquishing all complaint) is to lose six pounds by March 1.  Suddenly, that seems easier!