Eugh. People are SO pissing me off today. I'll tell you why, but first, some backstory.

Two weeks ago I called my doctor's office to renew my Ritalin prescription. For some reason, the office decided to mail it to me. THEIR decision. They knew they were prescribing me a controlled substance, and that such a prescription is only good for five days, which is why every time I asked them to mail it before they refused. But through some kind of insane troll logic they decided that since it was the Friday before Christmas they should mail it. Of course, by the time I received it, and the roads thawed enough for me to take it to the pharmacy, it expired, and I couldn't fill it.

So today I finally remembered to call and request a new scrip (hey, I've been w/o Ritalin for two weeks now, you can't expect me to remember to do things all by myself, which is why I need to take Ritalin in the first place), and the insane troll proceeded to LECTURE me on why they never mail prescriptions. "Right," I said, "except for that one time two weeks ago that you did." Well, they don't USUALLY mail them, and she went on to insist that the scrip had to be picked up in person, and I managed to keep my cool as I politely reminded her that it was their idea to mail it, not mine, and that my time was wasted by making a trip to town to try and fill an expired scrip. She continued to belabor the point that someone must pick it up in person. I told her that my mom will pick it up for me, all she has to do is get a new one ready.

Feh.

Of course, I was already feeling a bit surly because on my lunch hour I tried to cash my paycheck for that article I wrote.

Some more backstory: A week ago I took it to my credit union to try and deposit it in my savings. The teller told me they couldn't do anything with it and that I would have to cash it at the bank upstairs. She assured me that they'd be able to cash it even though I didn't have an account with them. I don't know why I accepted she'd know the workings of the other bank, since as it turns out she didn't even know the workings of the one she actually worked for. So I guess this one is sort of my own fault. The "bank upstairs" had just closed, so I put the check away and decided to try again Monday.

So today I finally remembered the check, and took it down to the "bank upstairs" and stood in line to cash it. I got to a teller, and she realized it was foreign currency (yeah, okay, I guess Canada counts as foreign), and sent me to the International desk, where I again stood in line. Then the International Teller (who, as it turns out, really was an international teller--I couldn't quite place her broken accent, but it sure wasn't from around here) told me that they couldn't do anything with the check unless I opened an account. Screw that. We're talking about a check that, in actual American dollars, is probably going to amount to just enough to cover a month of Netflix rentals. I'd already spent more time on this thing than it was worth. Then the teller told me that my credit union can cash it on my behalf because they have an account there.

Again I say, feh.

So I took the stupid Canadian funny money back down to the credit union and stood in line some more, and when I got to a teller she said "Well of course they can't cash it for you if you don't have an account there, stupid!" Okay, she didn't say stupid, but I had the distinct feeling that it was implied. I told her that it was they who sent me up there in the first place. She said oh. Then she told me that that person was wrong and that they can take care of it for me there.

So after more man hours than I actually put into writing the article, I managed to deposit my first freelance paycheck.