I went into the camp office. Myself. Personally. And spoke to the cute little girl behind the counter.
I told this girl. Myself. Personally. That I wanted to sign my son up for the last two weeks of the session.
The girl behind the counter told me. Myself. Personally. That all I needed to do was call the transportation department and let them know that my 5 year old son would be joining their camp program.
This girl behind the counter wrote, ON THE CAMP BROCHURE, the phone number that I needed to call, in order for my son to get picked up by the bus, for the last two weeks of camp.
I asked her. Personally. MYSELF. If that was all I needed to do. After all, this is my 5 year old. It would be his first experience with a bus. It would also be his first experience doing anything. ANYTHING. Without his Mommy taking him. My baby.
She looked at me, all 18 year old vacuousness-ly…and shook her head. That should have been my first warning.
I assumed. And this is where the ass between you and me comes in. I ASSUMED that it would be taken care of on her end. Because I KNEW on my end, my part would be taken care of.
The day finally arrived. My 5 year old son had been looking so incredibly forward to going on this bus. With two of his siblings. And going to a “big kid” camp.
I WATCHED them get on the bus.
I WATCHED the driver sit at the foot of my driveway, a minute or so longer than normal.
And with relief, I WATCHED them drive away.
My 5 year old son, excitedly sitting next to his big sister. On a bus!
I went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Only to find, we had a coffee maker and no coffee. So I had to go to the local coffee shop, because my husband stole…STOLE…my coffee to take to work.
But I digress. This isn’t a post about not having immediate coffee gratification, due the selfish act of a husbands thievery.
As I was driving through the local coffee joint. Getting my much needed coffee fix. Secure in the fact that my children were safely playing at their perspective camps…
I heard the voicemail signal vibrating. I had somehow missed a phone call.
Which turned out to be…
Transportation. From this camp. Whose bus I so trustingly placed my baby son on.
“Ah, Mrs. B, we have your son here. He doesn’t seem to be registered for camp. Call us back at 1800-WeR-DUMB”
So I did.
And they informed me that, while my son may or may not have been registered for a bus ride, the bus had no camp to take him to. Because he wasn’t registered for camp. Their bad?
They tried to push the blame on me.
But stupid ass, I said. I would NEVER have put my 5 year old son on a bus, if I wasn’t sure he had been signed up for camp.
I never yell. Except at my children. Or my husband. I even have been known to yell at my Mom and sister. But…at the general population. Never.
But I did.
Because hell hath no fury like a woman who is worried about her child. Screw the scorned part. I’ll take scorned any day of the week. Don’t fuck with my children in any way, shape or form!
So now, based on THEIR mistake.
My son has a free morning at camp.
While I’m sitting here, missing work, freaking out. Waiting to find out what they plan on doing to make up for their fuckupedness. And what they plan on doing with my 5 year old son, who is allegedly hanging out in the camp he may or may not be going to for the next two weeks…
And WHY. With me standing right there with my children. Did they put my son on the bus in the first place, if he wasn’t signed up for camp?
Stupid? I think MUCH!
Who’s is running this camp anyways? The same people who fuck up the orders at drive-thrus?
UPDATE: 12:19pm. They just called back. FINALLY. After my calling a bazillion times, to be told someone would call me back. And they are “letting him stay” for the next two weeks. They will pro-rate the cost. And it’s all good.
But I’m still not happy about the stolen coffee.