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Project Dad #3: Regressing

I have apparently reached the stage of crisis management mode where I turn five years old. Today has been characterized by a great deal of pouting and the intense desire to stomp off and refuse to play anymore. I actually had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from making rude remarks at staff meeting because I just have no interest whatsoever in all this nonsense, and frankly, my job seems slightly unreal at the moment anyway. This probably has a lot to do with the fact that I spend most of every day not working one bit: instead I do Dad Homework, obsessively check e-mail, or simply fail to concentrate on anything whatsoever.

Two things happened today to cement my mood of uncooperative self-pity: one, I had one of the longest, most surreal and mind-boggling bureaucrat interactions ever. I love this shit. I need some information from this one company, and I called them this morning to make sure they had the paperwork and that it was "on file" in "the system" so that anytime I call them I will be recognized as an "authorized participant." Check, check, check.

I called back two hours later to be faced with a stone wall of technicalities and slack-jawed incomprehension such as I have never before encountered. I told the same story fifteen different ways and none of them worked. I used my Snippy Voice. I used, entirely without pretense, my Almost Crying Voice. I used the phrase "my attorney." I listened to a bureaubot read to me from the paperwork which I had sent them in a Hooked-on-Phonics manner that made it clear that the meaning of what she was reading was entirely obscure to her. I had exchanges like this:

Me: "This morning, I talked to Rebecca, who told me that everything was okay."
Bureaubot: "No. You talked to Sandra yesterday, and she send you a form that you need to fill out."
Me: "My attorney talked to Sandra yesterday, but today, this morning, at about ten o'clock, I talked to REBECCA. She told me that the certificate of guardianship that you already had 'on file' in 'your system' will act as a substitute for the form."
Bureaubot: "That's great! So as soon as we get that form back, we can give you the information you need."
Me: "You see, actually I do not need to send in the form, because THIS MORNING, Rebecca consulted with Legal and determined that what you already have will replace the form."
Bureaubot: "What is it that we have?"
Me: "A. Certificate. Of. Guardianship."
Bureaubot: Well, usually we need a power of attorney for cases like this. I can put you through to Sandra and she can send a form right out to you."
Me: "Gaaaaaah! Rebecca said that the certificate would take the place of the form."
Bureaubot: "Well, I'm going to have to consult with Legal about this. Can I put you on hold?"

The second thing is that I had to say no to an invitation, the better to stay home and swim in the mess of disorganized paperwork I have inherited prehumously from my father. Turning down dinner with some co-workers should not be a big deal, but in my current mood it became iconic, a symbol of all the ways in which life has changed and will stay changed, this whole new thing of having to answer for someone else's quality of life, of realizing that shirking my responsibilities can now hurt someone besides just me. I am very much wanting to stomp my feet on the ground and say it's not fair. Let us hope that my new color-coded filing system will have a similar cathartic effect.

Posted by hilatron at April 21, 2004 07:02 PM | TrackBack