Making Me Crazy

Shrike had her big crazy test (MMPI) today, and was supposed to meet with the social worker afterward, but things got a little confused on that.

First, she got to the clinic earlier than her appointment time, then it didn't take as long as expected to do the test (because she's a smartypants that way), so she finished up well before the social worked even got into town. (She's only at that location on Tuesday afternoons.)

I had a meeting this morning with BigBoss, during which I received numerous calls and voicemails on my cellphone.

When I checked them around 1 pm, the first message was from Shrike, saying she was done and killing time, and already annoyed with the social worker.

Then there was one from the social worker, thinking she was talking to Shrike, talking about how "you got done early, and I won't be there for a while" and yada yada, "but I'll try to call Whozat, too" (then she actually called Shrike).

And then, another message, from Shrike, saying that she's talked to her, and the social worker told her that we can talk with her together, afterall - next week.

Aaarrrggghhh!

I won't repeat the things Shrike called her on my voicemail.

Is it becoming obvious why we wanted to just do this with a letter from Dr. T?

I had even asked if Dr. T's office could administer the MMPI, and just send them the results but, no, "there's a very specific way it has to be administered."

Yeah, a super-secret way that I'm sure a psychologist would know nothing about.

The "very special way" as it turns out? Shrike shows up, tells the "girls up front" that she's there for the test, they had it to her and stick her in a room.

Yeah, Dr. T never could have done that.

We actually had an appointment with Dr. T this morning, and I had even scheduled Shrike's test so that she could head over right after we were done, but she was up early yesterday and couldn't handle two early mornings in a row, so she sent me on alone.

(That's fine. We talked about her. Well, a little bit.)

So, I told Dr T all about this stupid test, and she agreed that it was pretty ridiculous that she couldn't have just given it to her there.

Oh well, at least we'll get to be together when we talk to this damn woman next week.

Well, sort of. I think she wants to talk to Shrike for like forty minutes, and then both of us for, I don't know, twenty or so?

Yeah, that's worth driving all the way over there, and missing two and a half hours of work for.

But, once that's done, we can get started, so I guess we'll get over it.

The other pressing matter is getting this home equity loan thing ironed out. The catch at the moment is that I can't seem to get MortgageBank to tell the Credit Union that we've requested that the old line of credit be closed.

First, they couldn't "process" the fax that I'd sent, and send a fax to her in under 24 hours.

Walk across the damn room. Pick up a fax. Read it. Mark it "received" and forward it.

How hard is this?

Then, they said the account number that I'd given LoanLady from the Credit Union was wrong, and they couldn't look it up using my social security number unless I was on the phone to say it was okay.

Then, once I got her the right number, they said they can't tell her anything because my "letter does not specifically state that they can disclose information to" her.

Good gravy, people!

What part of "As soon as you receive this fax, please contact Loan Lady at Our Credit Union by fax or email and let her know that you have received my request to close the line of credit. . . " and "It is imperative that they receive this information today (last Thursday!) . . . " do you not understand, you stupid fucks?

So, tomorrow, I will call and yell at them again. If I can get a human on the phone.

That as been quite a challenge, in and of itself. One day last week, I made, I think six separate calls to them, in an attempt to get to a person.

This was after leaving at least three voice mails, over a course of two weeks, for the woman to whom I'd originally spoken about upping our credit limit.

After I finally found out how to go about closing the line, I then demanded to speak to someone in her department, and gave them an earful about all the messages I'd left.

I said, "I don't know where she is - maybe she's on vacation, maybe she's sick, maybe she's dead, but whatever it is, somebody needs to go check her damn voicemail and wait on some customers."