Today’s task: Sort through last year’s school books, box up the non-consumables, discard the workbooks in the recycling bin, open up new boxes of materials, inventory and shelf them.
After I unpacked the new materials from K12.com, I realized that I was missing an entire box of materials. I’d noticed an uneven number of boxes when they arrived several weeks ago, but assumed that the missing box would show up sooner or later. Only, it didn’t.
So, after making sure my daughter was happily involved in a computer game at Nickjr.com, I telephoned K12.com to report the missing materials. (This is a paraphase of my actual conversation.)
Me: “Hi, I just unpacked my materials from K12 for this year, and I’m missing a whole box.”
Him: “How do you know?”
Me: “Um, because I have twin students and didn’t receive all the materials for the second twin. Plus, I have the packing list here and I am missing five subjects. A whole box.”
Him: “Let me check. I see we shipped five boxes.”
Me: “Yes.”
Daughter: “MAMA! MAMA!”
Me, hissing under breath, motioning to boys in the family room: “Go help your sister!”
Him: “Just a moment. Let me check.”
Daughter, shrieking: “NO! I WANT MOMMY!”
Me, holding phone against thigh: “PLEASE! HELP YOUR SISTER!”
Boys, staring at television: “She only wants you!”
Me, speaking into the phone: “Hello?”
Him: “Yes, I show we shipped five boxes. Did you receive five boxes?”
Me, ignoring screaming in the background: “Yes. But I should have six boxes.”
Him: “How do you know?”
Me, calm voice, now aware I’m dealing with an imbecile: “It’s like a math story problem. I have two students who should have three boxes each. Three plus three is six. I have five boxes. Six minus five is one. I’m missing a box. Plus, I. Don’t. Have. The. Materials. I’m looking at the packing list right now and I’m missing five subjects.”
Him: “How did you get a packing list?”
Me, now sweating, hissing under my breath at daughter who has appeared to cry up close and personal: “GO. AWAY!”
Me, aware of sweat on brow: “The packing list came with the history materials which were shipped separately because of the shape of the box.”
Him: “Do you have a tracking number?”
Me, glaring death-glare at red-eyed, weepy, gasping daughter: “Do I? I have a packing slip. Should it be on here?”
Him: “Um, let me check. Okay. Well. Do you want me to order the materials?”
Me: “Well. I need them. Do you need to reorder them? Or find the missing box?”
Him: “I’ll have to call UPS with a tracking number. I will reorder the materials.”
Me, still sending death-rays through the air at sobbing daughter: “Okay. Do you want the ISBN number?”
Him: “Yes.”
Me: “Number is XXXX.”
Him: “That’s back-ordered.”
Me: “Then how come I received the identical item already?” Pause. “Never-mind. Do you want the other numbers?”
Him: “Yes.”
Me: “Blah-blah-blah-blah.” Phone against hip again so I can yell at boys, “HELP ME OUT HERE!” Daughter still screams.
Him: “Okay. Those items are ordered.”
Me: “Thank you.”
Him: “Can I help you with anything else?”
Me: “Yes, please call 911 because I am going to JUMP OFF MY ROOF and then send me a nanny and a ticket to Tahiti because I AM RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME!” (Okay, I didn’t really say that part, but I could have!)
Why, please, tell me WHY small children have urgent needs ONLY after their parent has begun an important telephone call? Why do they not understand the universal sign for “I’M ON THE PHONE SO GET LOST!”? Why? And why do companies hire people with an IQ of a cardboard box to be customer service agents?
When I got off the phone, I restarted my daughter’s game (it had shut off after a 30-minute trial) and noticed my boys had disappeared. (Smart kids.) I jerked the thermostat down to a cool 70 degrees and then stomped around for awhile until my pulse returned to normal. I told my daughter that she can NOT talk to me while I’m on the phone. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she was contrite.
I hugged her then and felt terrible for my crescendoing fury. If the powers-that-be really want to defeat the terrorists, I suggest they use a preschooler who can break the terrorists down within fifteen minutes by merely screaming and whining and sobbing while they are trying to think and talk on the phone at the same time.
Actual Unretouched Photo 
I ask myself this same question CONSTANTLY!
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Sounds like a plan? Are you running for President in 2008 (because I would totally vote for you!)?
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it’s true, they don’t need you until you’re on the phone or in the bathroom! very frustrating!!
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That is so me. What’s really frustrating is that my husband sometimes does it too. He doesn’t see the phone? At least when I point to it he stops.
With the kids, when I drop the phone and run, no one has broken bones or is bleeding profusely. The house is not on fire.
It’s always something silly or a squabble they could have settled themselves. I have a new t.v. rule. If I have to come settle an argument, the t.v. goes off. I’m not interested in who’s right and who’s wrong; if they have to call in a referee, they’re all wrong.
Would you like company on your trip?
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Obviously that dude on the phone was seriously lacking in the education department. Sounds like he could use some k12 himself.
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Seems like people ought to just BEHAVE, huh?!
Wishing you some quiet moments…
–Mrs. Grumpy Girl 🙂
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I was once on the phone with my kid’s doctor when one jumped headlong into an uncontrollable fit.
This was in the days before the cordless phone.
I reached the end of my cord (read ROPE) and stuck out my foot to tap him lightly on the behind – just to get his attention so I could give him the universal sign for STOP IT RIGHT THIS MINUTE.
Did it work?
No. His screaming incoherently turned into wails and shreaks of “STOP KICKING ME!”.
I’m sure the doctor, who HAD to be able to hear all this added a black star to our chart.
This child is now a reasonable adult.
Me being me, I’m STILL peeved about this.
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It doesn’t seem to stop at little ones, I have a 12 1/2 yo who does the same thing when I am on the phone. It’s like she thinks I can carry on two conversations at the same time. Right!!
Hey did you see I’ve done a little bit better updating my blog this week? 😉
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Hey Mel,
The whole phone thing is really irritating. And I think there’s a part of me, when it is happening that feels bad for being on the phone too much, etc. If I were more intentional, played more games with her, etc.
My thoughts on this changed after watching my friend’s son while she was on the phone. He would act up when she got on the phone. Phone put down, screaming stopped. Phone picked up, screaming resumes. It was like a light switch. I could see in his eyes that he was watching her and making a point out of it. I don’t automatically assume now that my daughter is suffering from neglect when she is trying to get my attention on the phone.
Now, if I could just install a mute button on her, I’d be set.
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Oh that was a good one… love it. My older boys have learned to use the “he only wants his mommy!” response much too often lately!!!
And don’t even get me started about phone customer service people…
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My kids used to do the same thing. Now…..the dogs do it……they stand at your feet, look up at you and bark and whine. I never noticed this before (they really only do it to my husband) and now I know why. To get them to stop, he gives them each a treat. Helloooo??? Guess who trained the dogs to get treats if they whine and bark while you are on the phone????
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I admire your ability to capture that universal moment in all parents lives….
Man, I could be a piece of the furniture….until I get on the phone. And then I am HOT PROPERTY…
I once even walked around PRETENDING to talk on my phone nad they bugged me…
🙂
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I find locking myself in the bathroom, which is in my bedroom works for me =)) that way I have two doors (bedroom door and bathroom door) between us, and any screaming can not be heard by the person I am talking to =))
I have had friends say “it is so quiet in your house”. Yeah, well I fail to mentioned I locked myself in the bathroom, hehehe.
Of course I have kids standing outside the bedroom door saying “Mommy, Mommy what are you doing in there?”….of course I don’t mind them asking because I know if they are standing outside my door, they are not burning my house down.
HA!!
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I figured out what happened to your missing box. You mentioned that the individual on the phone “helping” you had the IQ of cardboard… cardboard….box…
It was your missing box talking to you on the phone! That’s why it was playing so dumb!!!
Glad to be of help.
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Wow, I have sooooo been there! I have been seen on the phone running through the house trying to find a private place to talk with a line of children following behind.
Mel, I love reading your blog
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Yes, I agree. Children always, but always need mommy when she is on the phone, or busy cooking and most definately when she is in the loo … must be a ‘child’ thing to make parents go mad at some stage!!!!
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I don’t have any preschoolers anymore and STILL can’t have a decent phone conversation. They can be great, getting along fabulously, until I get on the phone, then it’s like their inner bad self emerges, and that’s all she wrote.
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Toddlers on terrorist mission. Too funny! I also got a big kick out of the cardboard box IQ. Oh do I run into that a lot.
Hello!!
Hope you are having a better Monday 🙂
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Oh, Mel….as a fellow K12’er I’ve threatened to quit NUMEROUS times over their customer service department. If the actual curriculum wasn’t so darn GREAT, I surely would have. But there is no way I could put together anything like that on my own!
My two have the same “mom is talking on the phone let’s create an urgent need” syndrome. I think it’s genetic! The only consolation I have is that when they are grown up with children, they WILL experience the same thing!!! Paybacks! 😉
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Mel, I just went through the very same thing today.
Only it was with my 14 year old high schooler. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.
I feel your pain, sista friend.
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