Months ago we changed rubbish removal services and I asked the old company to take away their bins, which they were supposed to do within 10-15 working days. After two months of me reminding them, I sent a bill. Then I started sending a daily reminder.
I’m disappointed to report the bins are still here.
I got a cut and pasted standard “We apologise for the delay, I’ll send an urgent request” response to that. Now, I’d intended to just keep sending that again and again until they came to get them. However, by Tuesday, being a writer had gotten the better of me.
Tragically, the bins are still here. They’ve begun to weep for their long-lost brethren at Greyhound. I’ve tried to consol them, but thus far they turn a cold shoulder to me.
Another “we apologise for the delay, sending urgent request” response.
Today, the bins huddled beneath my window and sang a lament of the lost months, when they sat cold and lonely and unused, no help to humanity or the future of our planet. I wept for them.
Thursday morning, I got this in response:
I have sent over a urgent request and will follow up with you on Wednesday to confirm the bins have been removed.
By this time I thought the woman I was corresponding with had no sense of humor at all, but I responded with the following:
I have told the bins that you will get back to us on Wednesday. Unfortunately, since your last email was sent on Thursday morning, this has only increased their belief that they have been forever abandoned. I have promised them that at worst it’s only another week, but secretly hope that for the sake of their poor heartbroken souls that you, like me, have spent this entire week convinced that it’s a completely different day of the week than the calendar says it is.
In the meantime, the brown bin, which seems to be the bravest, has taken to telling stories of fortitude and strength to the others, whose sobs no longer disturb my son as he sleeps.
Friday, she emailed back:
I would like to apologise for the delay, I have sent over an urgent request to my manager to get the bins removed. I have also enjoyed your emails of storytelling.
Well! At least that last bit was a relief!
Then Friday afternoon we discovered the bins were gone! So I’ve sent a final email:
On Friday, a light struck from high and the bins were lifted into it, singing hallelujahs. It is my fond imagination that they now reside in that great bin lot in the sky, sharing tales of their adventures and speaking quietly of the Lost Months, which will go down in legend amongst the Bins of Greyhound. :)
(x-posted from The Essential Kit)