The Unauthorized Party

I may be writing this whilst angry.

I just experienced one of the 700,000,000 times that I am unable to do anything official without my husband’s “permission”.

Previously it was over the phone.

Me to CSR: I need to blah blah blah to our account

CSR: Your name?

Me: Corinn and I proceed to answer all of the security questions correctly,

CSR: Oooooo, I’m sorry. I can’t give you that information because your name is not on the account.

Me: Yes it is. I conference called with you and Eric last month and heard him add me. Just a moment, let me conference him again.

I then take a small delight in putting them on hold while praying Eric answers.

Eric: Hey babe! (He has no idea he’s walked into a hornets nest. I would normally feel sorry for him, but I don’t.)

Me: Eric, you’re on a conference call with CSR so and so from stupid company. CSR, this is Eric, the person from whom I gain my reason for living. He makes me a whole person because you cannot tell me our payment’s due date without his permission.

CSR: Hi Mr. Eckert. How can I help you today?

Poor Eric: Hey. Could you please add my wife to the account? And really do it this time?

CSR: Of course, sir. We love YOU here. Your wife is added to the account (we all know I really am not) and we really hope you, sir, have a great day because you’re so wonderful and we wish all the people were like you and not her….

And then Eric and the rep become BFF and I’m the jerk face. Well guess what, kids. I used to work in Customer Service. I know the rules. But I also did my job while I was assisting someone. If a spouse had someone added, I added them.

All of this back story was leading up to a whole new level of stupidity. Eric has a conference and I’m sleeping and watching TV and eating during his meetings. I ordered room service and was going to watch TV and be gloriously lazy. I put on leggings as pants, a red jacket that does not come near to being long enough to wear with said leggings as pants and pink tie dye socks. No makeup and my hair is not done. I repeat, not . done.

I went to put my tray outside and bam. My door closed. Yesterday there were people everywhere that were cleaning the rooms. Today it was a ghost town. So, I sucked it up and went down to the desk.

Me: I’m locked out.

Front Desk Person: Oh no! Do you have your identification on you?
Me: no. It is in my room that I am not able to get back into.

FDP: Ok. What’s your room number

Me: 9876

FDP: Name on the room?

Me: Eric Eckert.  My name is Corinn Eckert

FDP: Ooooooo, you’re name is not on the room.

Me: Well, no. It is not. Would you like to walk me up and get my id?

FDP: Can you contact your husband?
Me: He is in conferences right now and my phone is in my room….

FDP: We can call him.

Me: OK. Let’s try. (Because I’m sure he will answer a strange number during his meeting).

No answer.

Me: Let’s try again. Do you really think I’m faking it in my pink socks and leggings as pants? Look at me.
FDP walks away to go discuss me with other FDPs.

Me: No answer. Again. I am amazed. Now I’m wondering if I was authorized to order that room service today without permission from my husband. If you would like I can go prance around the conference to find him and embarrass the fire out of him looking like this.

Other FDP: Why don’t we just have this guy walk her up and check her ID?

Why didn’t someone think of that sooner. What a freaking genius. Thankfully when the guy knocked on the door before letting me in, nobody answered.

Because,  you know, I was with him.

And he didn’t even check my picture ID. He just saw my credit card and the name matched. I did offer him my license, Sams card, insurance card and firstborn (sorry Michael, I was pretty sure they would say no).

I feel better now. Thank you WordPress for being my therapy.

I need a nap.


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