I don’t mean to complain, but. . .

I’m trying to understand the world.  I hear so much coming out of Washington that troubles me.  Protections for our climate, for children, for immigrants, for older Americans, all seem to be under attack.  I don’t mean to complain but it seems as thought the world is going to hell in a hand basket.

I get on the phone and I’m told that the customer service person cannot give me his name “because of Company policy, ma’am”.  After 35 minutes of struggling to get the clerk to help me,  I begin to think that there might be a language barrier.  I finally demand a phone number for an American agent.  I call that phone number and a cheerful voice provides me with her name and in three minutes, accomplishes what the first individual could not do in a half an hour.

I don’t mean to complain but I do not understand why the second clerk had no trouble doing what I needed whereas the first clerk could not despite having a half an hour to do so.  Was it the inability to communicate or was the man just a jerk???  I don’t want to blame an entire foreign nation; maybe the guy just doesn’t like his job.

I turn on the radio to distract myself.  I browse the NYT.  There I read about tariffs against others by this nation and tariffs against our nation.  The stock market plunges and clearly, we aren’t getting greater.  I don’t mean to complain but the average Joe and Jane gets screwed and it’s business as usual.

I have a headache.  I did manage to change my plane reservations as well as my rental-car-drop-off reservations with only a net outlay of twenty additional bucks, so it’s a win if you don’t count those lost 35 minutes and my rising frustration and agitation.

I draw in a very large cleansing breathe. I remind myself that we’ve just lost our dog; and that my son and I are both grieving, he more so than me because of their special bond.  We couldn’t be with her; we feel that we failed her.  And the stock market plunges, and the government  keeps eroding the hard-won progress of the last fifty years and I still don’t have a job!  I don’t mean to complain BUT!!!!


This not-complaining business overwhelms me once in a while!

It’s the fourth day of the fifty-second month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues. . .and tomorrow’s another day.


2 thoughts on “I don’t mean to complain, but. . .

    1. Anne Orso

      Sucky day. Difficult not to complain just a little when those come along one in a while. Sometimes I just give in…read a good fiction cuddled under a blanket on the couch, eat a big old bowl of ice cream or popcorn, cry a little, and take a nap. Then I get up and focus my attention on what I’m grateful for. It’s gotten me through a major move away from family and friends, and so much more. But you know that already. I’m thinking of you with loving thoughts.


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