10:37 am: Still on hold. Does anyone know where Kenny G is living these days? I'm thinking about showing up there with a dish towel full of ether. Then I will take him into my basement and sing 45-seconds of "Camptown Races" over and over again. And probably poke him with hot metally things a little.
The perfect soundtrack to a nice, long beating.
10:40 am: We are officially twelve minutes into the phone call and it's still just Kenny G and that surly gentleman I was talking about earlier. Since I'm assuming neither one of them know about my $677 water bill, this has been a complete waste of time. If my children ever decide to play the saxophone, I will disown them.
10:44: 15 minutes in. I've decided to write lyrics to the hold music.
Here I am, wasting away
Because someone expects me to pay
$700 for water I didn't see (pronounced "say"...it's a country blues feel I'm going for)
And on my salary ("sala-ray")
I'll be forced to sell both my kidneys ("kid-nays")
10:50: Hallelujah! Beverly picks up. And she seems like she has a soul. This might go better than I thought.
10:52: The call is over. I waited over twenty minutes for a two-minute phone call. A two-minute phone call in which I was informed that they'd be sending a special investigator out. Kind of insulting to the "not special" investigator that came out to check meters yesterday, no? So now I have to wait for some David Caruso-type to swing by and grill me about my missing water. Beverly also told me if David Caruso doesn't call to schedule an appointment within, oh, two weeks or so, that I should call her and Kenny G again.
Can't wait for that.
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