It was our last intercity move. We had moved from Fargo to Sturgeon Bay to Pensacola to El Centro and back to Sturgeon Bay, all from June of 1965 to March of 1969. When that last load was unloaded it was found that one of our dining room chairs had been broken, so the movers took it back to have it repaired.
About a year passed and we had not received the repaired dining room chair. Being far more fractious in those days, I called the moving company and started to rant. Then I continued to rant. I was heedless of the concept that the nice lady on the telephone might not be personally responsible for the fact that our chair had not been returned. Ignoring the adage that “You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”
When I came to a pause in my rant, the nice lady asked, “What moving company was that?”
She couldn’t see me blush; she couldn’t see my face drop, but she could hear the pregnant silence. I couldn’t erase all I had said. The best I could do was to profusely apologize and admit that I had called the wrong mover.
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Challenge: Using prose or poetry, tell us something about yourself that might surprise your friends or family.