So apparently to work for the government, whether federal, state or local, one of the requirements for the job is to ooze compassion. At least the bleeding heart liberals would have you believe that, right? Maybe the new regime of compassion and change hasn't trickled down to the reps in my local neck of the woods.
Ok, so did you notice the use of catch phrases from both sides of the political arena in that first paragraph? That is supposed to set both sides at ease and make everyone breathe a sigh of relief that this is NOT going to be a political rant for or against either side of the fence. If you get that, please feel free to continue reading the remainder of this riveting blog post. If you don't get that, please feel free to stop reading the remainder of this riveting blog post.
And if you believe that this is a riveting blog post, then let's talk. I'm sure I have some treasures collecting dust in my basement that you could purchase...or the Brooklyn bridge...either one works...same analogy..
But back to the oozing compassion that must be a requirement for the job of working for the government. If that requirement is true, one would think it would especially apply post tornado, right? Well, let's see. Here are two experiences from my life in recent weeks.
Experience # 1 - the public works department. We are best buds. We go way back. They have been very dilligent to "protect the property values" in my neighborhood (read: "hood" out of that word only). Hence we had all of the work done to the driveway and the retaining wall - cause even hoods need good driveways and retaining walls, right? If I had any pictures pre-tornado of my street, you'd really get what I'm talking about here, but that's another story.
Anyway, back to the story. 4 days after the tornado hit, I find out from the local electric company that I own the electric meter that was knocked off the side of the house by the trees that the tornado tossed around like toothpicks.
And since I own that lovely piece of equipment, it is up to me to have it replaced. Thankfully I have a good relationship with the contractor who did all of the other home repair work recently, so I ask them about it. They start to check into it, only to find out that the city, nay, The City requires a master electrician to do the work. Otherwise they will not issue the permit.
Cha-ching! Did anyone else hear that sound?
Fine. My contractor knows an electrician, so they come out and replace the meter. However that still does not mean I have power restored to my home. No...that work has to be inspected by The City and THEN the electric company makes the final connection before power is actually restored to my home.
The electrician tells me to call The City Public Works to discuss the inspection, so first thing the next morning I call them to find out if they need to come inside the house, do we need to set up a time, etc. You would've thought I was asking the blondest questions ever from the condescension...oops, I mean compassion...that oozed from this official's lips. I am apparently expected to have the Public Works department's SOP's for inspection protocols committed to memory. After a painful few minutes, we finally determine that they don't need to inspect the inside; they can complete their inspection from the outside.
Fine. Done. Now I have the audacity to ask for a phone call when the inspection is complete so that I can then contact the electric company to make the final connection.
Mistake on my part. Back to the SOP's. I apparently "forgot" that they always fax this information to the electric company.
How stupid can one homeowner be? Really.
Experience # 2 - the USPS. Crazy me, I take a pro-active approach on Monday after the Good Friday tornado and ask that my mail be held since I knew we wouldn't be living there and I knew how torn up the street would be for the carrier. Seems pretty straight forward, right? Just hold my mail. Pretend I'm on a vacation for a week, and we'll talk at the end of that week.
Yeah...a week passes, and I go to pick up my mail and resume service. No mail. It's out on the street, ma'am, with the carrier. Ok, so I should get a week's worth of mail in my box this evening? You should, yes.
I bet you know where this story is going, don't you? I stop by the house, and it's 1 day's worth of mail, not a week's worth.
So I stop by the post office the next day. I speak with the same person. She checks on the computer; she even calls the carrier. He says he made a mistake and marked the mail as "Moved w/no forwarding address" rather than holding it. Then she left me a voicemail later on her personal cell (with explicit instructions that I could not call her back on that number) that she was still trying to find out what the carrier did.
Two more days go by. Mail has resumed, but it's still only each day's mail. I still have not had any delivery of mail that was the equivalent of a week's worth. So I stop by one more time. Yesterday. On a Saturday.
The lobby is full of people standing in line. One worker asks if anyone is there for anything special, so I say that I'm looking for mail that was on hold. She motions for me to come to her window. I start to tell my little story. The lobby is suddenly rather quiet. It is obvious that nothing more riveting is capturing the attention of the mass than the drama taking place in our corner of the building.
I could relay all of the gory details but the bottom line? No mail found. And get this. It is not their fault that I am missing a week's worth of mail. Sweet, huh? Somehow it is my fault. I shouldn't have had it placed on hold or I shouldn't have found alternative living arrangements or something. But it was made perfectly clear that the USPS did NOT lose my mail.
Awesome, isn't it? How do people get these jobs and then belive they are doing them with integrity much less any sort of compassion?
I haven't even relayed the story of the compassion oozing from the mortgage company rep who made it clear that I was NOT going to get everything she was telling me about how the claim packet would work - that I would have to make her repeat it several times. See how blond I am? Even perfect strangers on the phone know it.
So moral of the stories...compassion oozes from government reps and officials. Right?
Or wait, no here is the moral of the stories. Deb, don't be proactive. Don't call, don't have your mail put on hold, and don't think that you need to get involved to make things work right or smoothly for everyone. You will clearly get it wrong every time.
