Oh, New Jersey. I really try may hardest to sing your praises.
But, I did nearly drop the envelope when you tried to charge me $53 for going through your EZ-Pass (ironic terminology noted) a mere 17 days ago. Yes. Not 60 days ago, or last winter. Seventeen days ago as in, a little over two weeks with a $50 administration fee.
Funny, much like a good narrative, a friend had just received a similar notice in the mail, and I shook my head at the idiocy. I mean, a $50 surcharge out the gate. Please.
A mere 72 hours later, I received my doorprize in the mail. I couldn’t even recall — oh, wait, Yes. The wrong turn at Trenton on the way home from Bradley Beach, a pristine day at the ocean.
Oh, well —-
But I shook, and I thought, who has time for this? As I pressed, 1, 1# for the third try to reach a human as indicated by the recorded message.
“Please hold, your wait time is: 45 minutes.”
I put the muzak on speaker phone and I began to work on a writing piece (not this one) and a realization dropped: There was a 45 minute wait time because there were scads of other callers calling New Jersey, like me. I softened and plugged away at the keyboard, hitting lines of international grandeur.
“Hello this is Celia, may I have your violation number?”
By now, thirty nine minutes of wait time under my belt, I was cheery. “Hello, Celia, T 1456…” I spoke clearly.
“Are you here to pay your $3 charge and $50 administrative fee.”
“I am happy,” I over pronounce with true, clear joy, “to pay my $3 toll.”
Celia burst into laughter, “Oh, don’t worry. I’m taking care of that ridiculous $50 for you.”
“I mean c’mon New Jersey,” I told Celia.
She lost is. We were both laughing so hard on the phone she had to stop typing.
I told Celia I hoped someone else brightens her day, like she did for me.
She thanked me for being a sweetheart, and wished me a blessed day.
I told her it now was.
I meant it; it was true.
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