Thunder of Wade

(This happened a while back – just getting around to writing it up)

When I was a kid, my grandmother on my Mom’s side started a small investment account for myself, my sister, and our cousins.  It was a nice thing to do and when she passed away I transferred the address for the statements to my name.  I didn’t need it and didn’t do anything with it – just kept an eye on the slow growth over the years.  

The financial group that managed it from Florida eventually suggested that I drop them and work directly with the investment company – Capital Group – directly.  I made those changes and updated the address again – and got the online account access all set up.

The University made some changes to the investments in 2022 for our retirement and the financial person I worked with suggested switching to a Roth IRA.  I decided that I would start to pull from this investment and transfer that to the Roth – to give it a jump start.  I transfered $6,000 from my checking account to the Roth and went online with Capital Group to request a distribution of $6,000 back to me.  6K is the most that I could put in the Roth at a time and I planned on repeating this next year. 

I got the check, took it to the bank, and deposited it at the ATM.  Simple.

And then everything fell apart.

The bank wouldn’t deposit the check and instead sent me a notice that my grandmother’s name was the primary on the check and I was the secondary.  They suggested that I contact the check issuer and have them reissue a check in my name only.

I was left with a legal copy of the check that was unusable.

So, I called up Capital One and explained what was going on and asked them to re-issue the check.  They were instead horrified that I had requested the check on the account that I hadn’t claimed.  I was confused since my name was on the account, I had online access, had updated the address and account information – and there was nothing in place to prevent me.

Somehow, though I am not a financial expert and no one had ever told me the process, I should have Known Better ™.

I would need to fill out a new account request form, a transfer form, and provide my birth certificate, and my grandmother’s death certificate.  

I explained that I didn’t have the death certificate and would have to ask relatives or request it from the records office in Illinois.  In the meantime, I asked if they could cancel the check and they were emphatically not going to do that.   No reason given, just… no.

So, I checked with my Mom and she didn’t have a copy – nor did her sister.  I went to the State of Illinois records office online and found the form to request the certificate.  There was a fee, it couldn’t be submitted online, and it would take at least… 12 weeks to process. 

I printed and filled out the form, then sent it in with a check and settled in to wait. 

A while later I still hadn’t gotten the certificate, but I did get a letter from Capital Group about the uncashed check.  If I didn’t act on that, it would be turned over to Unclaimed Funds.  

I called Capital group and explained what was going on – I was waiting on the death certificate before I could complete the paperwork and it still hadn’t arrived.  I asked again if they could cancel the check to give me more time and no, they would still not do that nor give me a reason. They conceded that the funds wouldn’t get turned over for at least a year so I did actually have time.  And they wrapped up the call by telling me that I didn’t need the death certificate after all – having no idea why someone from their organization would have told me that.

Seething, I hung up the phone and tried to plan a time to meet with the bank.  One of the forms required a “medallion signature” from a financial organization – like a bank – and a notary signature isn’t good enough. 

I made an appointment for later that week and gathered up every form of ID I had in my possession.  If they wanted to see my library card, I would be ready. 

A couple days before the appointment, I got the death certificate in the mail.  I sighed.

I got to the appointment early and went to the reception desk to check in.  Instead of just, “okay, thank you”, I had to use my phone to scan a QR code and complete 5 steps to “officially check in”.

Once that was done, it was 10 minutes past my appointment time before I was called to the office.   I got out the forms, all of my ID’s (including a passport, but not my library card) and explained I needed a medallion signature.

The associate was aghast. Only the branch manager had a medallion.  She went to check to see if the manager was available.   I waited.

She came back with the manager who looked over the documents and explained that I would need my birth certificate, my driver’s license, the most recent quarterly statement from Capital group, and my grandmother’s death certificate.

I raised an eyebrow high enough to dislocate my forehead and said that I had all of those things, but not with me.   As we were setting a time to come back, I noted that I was only a few minutes from home.  The manager had time a half-hour from then available so I headed home to eat quickly and gather that paperwork.

I hurried back and sat down with the manager.

Everything seemed good until we got to the statement.  I had pages 1 and 2 since that included the information about the account, but hadn’t saved the 3rd page since it was boilerplate text. 

That wasn’t good enough  – she needed to see page three since the other pages were 1 of 3 and 2 of 3.   

I got out my phone and managed to get to the Capital Group site and somehow got logged in.  I navigated to the accounts area to see the last statement and got an error.  I “had requested that online access be restricted”.

Which wasn’t true – but I figured they had flipped the switch on the account after my “why would you do that?” distribution request. 

The manager suggested that we call Capital Group to see if they could unlock my access so I could see and show her that pointless/critical “page 3”.

She made the call, put it on speaker, and when it was answered she explained what we were trying to do.

The associate explained that since I hadn’t claimed the account – which is what I was trying to do – that they couldn’t turn online access back on without authorization from the executor of the estate (from 20 years ago).  I asked if they could verify that there was nothing account-specific on the statement and they could do that – but that wasn’t enough for the manager even though the group that had issued the statement was pretty clear on it.  Audit purposes…

I sighed – loudly.

I asked when the next statement would be issued and mailed out. The quarter would end in September and the statement would be sent in October. I suggested that I could just wait for the next statement to be mailed to me and I would then have a complete copy of the statement.

The associate agreed that it would work – provided that I hadn’t restricted the statements to online only.    I hadn’t – of course – and since I’d gotten the last one (well after the account confusion), I figured I’d get the next one.

We ended the call and I gathered up all the paperwork again.  The manager showed me out and said I should make another appointment once I got the statement. 

I went home.

More time passed and the statement finally arrived. I opened it up, verified that it had 2 useful and 1 useless pages  – then called to make an appointment to see the manager later that week.  I called, this time, since the online options for appointment didn’t specify the medallion/manager option.

Before the appointment, I got a call/voice-mail from the manager asking me to call back since a medallion signature has special requirements. I called back, she was busy, and she never called back before the appointment.  

The day of the appointment I was running late – for me – and stopped at the outside door to try and do the “official” check in.  I got 3 slow steps in the process when it didn’t recognize my number and just gave up and went into the reception desk. 

I was seated and waited.

The manager met me and I explained that I had been there a few weeks ago for the same thing but was missing a critical 3rd page on the statement.  She remembered me then and went through all the documentation again – and then got out her medallion stamp.  Which was simply an official pre-inked stamp – nothing fancy.

Stamped and signed, then she went to make copies.  I folded two small ducks.

When she got back she gave me back the originals and I gathered up all the paperwork again.  I noted that I had my ducks in a row this time and said that I hoped that it worked.

Though I wasn’t really feeling optimistic.

I went home and went through everything again – from verifying the address on the envelope to Capital Group to all the paperwork and the right copies.  I also included a letter asking that the original check (including the check number) be canceled and a new check be issued.  And that the online access be reinstated.

The next day, I went to the post office and had it sent by certified mail.  

And now I wait to see if this worked. 

The best outcome will be a check written out to me that I can deposit.  Next year, I’ll request another distribution – this time, for everything left in the account.  

They didn’t want to treat me like a customer and I was tired of being treated like an adversary.  

At this point, I’d rather be neither.

EDIT: I got the check with 0.000% fanfare. 

There’s a crack in our bathtub.  Not a major one, but better to get it fixed now before it gets worse.  I did a little research and found a kit that contains all the materials needed to repair this and, thus armed, I headed to Lowe’s to make my purchase and start my next home repair project. 

I found the plumbing section and the kits easily enough, but paused as I pulled the kit I needed from the shelf.  The one in “white” – that would match the color of our tub – was $45.48    The exact same kit in “bone” was $29.98

A difference of $15.50 based – as far as I could tell – only on the color. 

With a wrinkled brow, I took both packages to the front of the store and had them check the price to see if the signs were an error.  The clerk was a little confused since it looked like the same thing, but confirmed the difference.    They didn’t offer to do anything about it so I took the cheaper one back and headed to the checkout – confused and cranky.

When I got home, I decided to investigate on my own.  I looked up the manufacturer, found their website, found the contact form, and sent them a note.   I asked if this price difference was something that they had set (via an MSRP) or if this was something that Lowe’s did.  This was a Sunday afternoon and I put the project on hold – figuring I might hear back later in the week.

Instead, I got a text message and then a phone call in less than 20 minutes – from the owner of the business.

He confirmed that this is something that Lowe’s had done and he had been trying to get this adjusted.  He then explained that Home Deport sells the kit – but only in “white” and had increased the price.  Lowe’s followed suite and did the same – but since Home Depot only sells the “white” kit, the Lowe’s price on “bone” remained the same.  

We were both frustrated by this and I told him that I would reach out to Lowe’s to see if they could help resolve this.  I thanked him for contacting me so quickly, especially on a Sunday.

I next headed to the Lowe’s website and confirmed the prices there – it wasn’t just this one store.   I assumed that this wouldn’t be something the store or a frontline support person could resolve on the phone and went looking for an email.

But there wasn’t one on the site.

So, I fired up the chat and asked for an email address.  The Bot couldn’t help and handed me off – to someone in Sales.  They also couldn’t help and handed me off to Customer support.  They finally returned an email address and handed me off to a survey – which stalled out. 

I fired up my gmail and drafted a note explaining what was going on with all the prices, what the manufacturer had said, and my concern that I was being gouged for having a white bathtub.

I got a note back within an hour  – an automated message that noted they were reviewing my email.  The message also stated that not all emails will get a reply – and to not send repeated inquiries.  

So, they might not respond and I shouldn’t pester them if they don’t.

Mmmmm-hmph.

A few days later I did get a response, noting that they do price items differently based on the color and that they do adjust prices based on the competitors.   And while there was nothing they could do about that, I was encouraged to contact the manager at the store.

Almost immediately, they also sent me a survey – and when I didn’t respond right away, three follow up reminders. 

Jim found the same kit – in “white” – at Menards and so I returned the one I had to Lowe’s.  I’ll make a trip to the land of “saving big money” soon to re-buy the kit I need in the color I need.  For quite a bit less than the cheaper color at Lowe’s.

So that was that.   Faceless corporate drones and pricing algorithms – such is the consumer experience. 

EDIT:

The kit didn’t work – even after two attempts.

I’m usually home from work before Jim is, so when his car pulls in the driveway I’ll gently wake the dogs from their naps and we’ll meet him at the door. 

The dogs get greeted first, as it should be, and then Jim will set down his bag and coat and give me a hug.

I’ll say to him,

“Hello, husband, I’m glad you’re home,”

He’ll respond with,

“Hello, husband, I’m glad to be home,”

We don’t have to call each other husband.  It could just be Jim and Anthony.  But, it’s something we’ve done since we got married.  Just a quiet and small reminder – an affirmation, maybe – of that commitment. 

And then we’ll end the hug and decide on dinner and talk about our day and all the other things that come with having a life that is shared.

On days when I go into the office, I’m usually pressed for time at lunch to get home, feed the dogs, feed myself, and get back to the office. 

A stop at McDonald’s on the way can either make this much easier or – if they are having an off day – make me hopelessly late.

Last week, I stopped on my way and decided to go in instead of going through the drive through.   I ordered at the kiosk like a boss, then waited patiently, quietly, and alertly for my order – with the order number on the receipt extended out of my shirt pocket.  

If you’re going to be just a number, at least be clear about it. 

The crew was harried, as usual – even though this was just the start of the lunch rush.  When my order was up, the woman behind the counter handed me the bag and then reached back to get me my drink cup.

“Here’s your cup, beautiful,” she said and I thanked her – then she hurried off to help the next customer. 

I was dressed for work with my head neatly shaved and my beard neatly trimmed and while she might say that to everyone, I felt pretty special.  And maybe a little beautiful.

Later that week, I was in the checkout line at a store – being quiet, polite, and alert as I usually am – and again dressed professionally for work since I’d just come from the office.  As I finished the transaction, the casher said,

“Have a good day, darling,”

And maybe she says that to everyone, but it was still nice to hear.

It was a Saturday morning and I was out in the front yard with a leaf sweeper.  There weren’t a lot of leaves but too many to rake and I was making my way up and down the yard at a steady pace.  

Near one of the large trees in the yard, I stopped.  There was a smell and it was horrible.

As protocol dictates, I checked my shoes.  Nothing there, but there was…something.

I moved the leaf sweeper back the way I had come and started looking around on the ground – assuming it was some kind of poop, though it didn’t really smell like that.

Instead, I found something horrible.  

It was roughly spherical and about the size of a golf ball.  Clearly organic, it was a solid mass – mostly tan in color with some light purple and patches that looked like fat that were nearly white.

A tiny part of me was curious.  What was this?  How long had it been there?  What animal had it come from?  And what was inside?

But the rest of me – that has seen too many movies that start just like this – knew that even if this wasn’t an evil fleshy mass holding an alien parasite ready to leap out and infect me, it would still be something that I wanted no part of. 

I went and got a shovel and a plastic bag.  And I found a stick, which I used to carefully turn over the mass. It was about the same on the other side and I confirmed the overall shape.

Still no clues, so I scooped it up with the shovel and put it in the bag – which I set aside and partially knotted so I could reopen it if I found anything else.

I didn’t see anything so I went back to using the leaf sweeper.  I kept noticing a smell, though, and stopped to investigate.  

I hadn’t been quick enough to stop before and had rolled over something I think related to the mass.  Something black and stringy, with smaller masses lodged inside.  These strings had wrapped around the shaft of the leaf sweeper and were tangled into a foul smelling mess.

I flipped the sweeper over and got the bag open again.   Armed with my trusty stick, I carefully began to unwind the strings – which I assumed at this point were squirrel intestines.  Making the earlier mass perhaps a stomach?

It took a while, but I finally got all the strings unwound and bagged.  I tossed the stick in the bag as well for good measure and then closed it up for good this time.  

The last step was to hose off the sweeper to finally be rid of the smell.  I finished the lawn sweeping without incident, but I did manage to roll over some undiscovered dog poop in the backyard that required another round with the hose.  

The suburbs are no place for the weak of stomach or faint of heart.

There was another mass shooting recently – this time, at a university in Michigan. 

We mourned for the lost lives of the students while we tried to focus our own communications on information and preparedness. 

After spending far too much time reading the news, I signed myself up for the online course/video offered by UA called Run, Hide, Fight. 

It was a half-hour video presented by the UAPD with information on how to react to an active shooter event and while it was well done, it was also terrible. 

They talked about the goal of the shooter being a “high body-count” and how we should try to Run if we could to get away (and how not to be mistaken for the shooter and be shot ourselves by law enforcement). If we couldn’t Run, we were supposed to Hide and barricade ourselves until getting an all clear.  And if Hiding wasn’t an option, it was time for improvised weapons and rushing the attacker and Fighting to save ourselves.

There were two videos they played in the presentation and the first was set in a nightclub where the patrons were reacting to an active shooter and then “breaking the fourth wall” to explain to the camera and us what they were thinking and what they were doing.    Intense, but useful to see this planned out.  Maybe even a little reassuring that it was possible to think and not panic.

The second was in an office environment.  There were no thoughtful cutaways and helpful tips, it was just a gunman flatout murdering people with a shotgun.   A few people managed to do the Run, Hide, Fight as they were trained, but only after they had been alerted to the threat. 

Now, I’ve watched a lot of TV shows and movies and I’m not bothered by violence on the screen.  I can see how it advances the plot, the motives are clear, and the hero saves the day in the end.

This one, though, really bothered me.  No clever plot device and no distancing us from the actors – we were expected to put ourselves in the role of the victims and it was all too easy to do so. 

After it was done, I was a little shaken up and started to look around our office as a risk assessment.  We’re in a big glass building in the middle of campus, our office suite has only one exit right onto a main hallway, and the main door to our suite has a big panel of glass.    Running didn’t seem like much of an option and Hiding didn’t seem any better. 

So, that evening I went to the store and bought a curtain and tension rod and then put it up the next day.  Since the suite lights turn off from a motion sensor, we use lights in our individual offices to work by.  With the curtain drawn and no lights visible from outside, we would look like we weren’t home.  So, a quick move to deadbolt the door, barricade ourselves in our own offices, and then consider going out a window if it came down to it. 

I felt a little bit better after I made a plan and put up the curtain – knowing that even the prey with the best camouflage sometimes still gets eaten.

They don’t know why the shooter went after the students at the university in Michigan.  He had no ties there and didn’t even live nearby.  But, I guess if you are looking for that body-count, you go where the people are and create as much fear as you can.

So, we’ve watched the training, learned the mantra, and have a little plan to try and keep us safe. 

But I don’t feel safe.

Another story from the island trip…

Jim and I signed up for a Sunset and Stargazing trip to the top of Mauna Kea – the tallest mountain in the world.  

If you measure from the bottom of the seafloor.  

Which they do.

We grabbed jackets, put on long pants and comfortable shoes and went to the mall – the designated pick up spot for the tour van.   

We could spot other travelers by their similar clothing – at least the ones who had read the details of the trip and the precautions. 

The van was a few minutes late and our tour guide/driver introduced himself as we loaded up.  His name was Shin and he was originally from Japan, but had lived in Hawaii for many years. But, not long enough to lose his accent.  

Which wasn’t a problem while we were in the parking lot, but once we got on the road to the mountain the noise of the van made it difficult to figure out what he was saying.  I tried to share what I could pick out with Jim, but I know we missed a lot.  Shin did have a recording he played at intervals to point out features on the trip; so that helped. 

One of our fellow passengers got motion sick and we had to stop the van.  They switched to a front seat and did better – but it didn’t bode well for the rest of the trip.  We had heard stories of altitude sickness.

We got to the foot of the mountain – at least, the part above sea level – and started the climb upwards.  The climate started to change pretty quickly and it was like being on another part of the planet by the time we reached the visitor’s center.

There was time for a small meal – snacks, mostly – while we acclimated to the altitude.  The oxygen saturation was 80% of what we’d have at sea level.  We had to spend 45 minutes there – plenty of time to check out the gift shop as well – before resuming the climb.  Only vehicles with 4 wheel drive were permitted any higher up and the road was deliberately bad to deter too many visitors.  

We stopped near the summit for a bit to check out all the telescopes and get some photos – including a patch of snow in Hawaii in the summer.   One of the members of the group was starting to have trouble with altitude sickness and had to wait in the van.  The rest of us put on our provided parkas and marveled at the landscape and the stillness.    We were a long way from the ocean waves and the sounds of traffic.  

No birds either – and no plants.  It was as desolate a place as I’ve ever been – but peaceful.

After a bit we loaded back up and finished the ascent.  At the top were more telescopes and an amazing view – from above the clouds.    We joined other tour groups to find a good spot to watch the sunset and take more photos.    I started to get a little tired since the O2 was only 60% of sea-level, but I took it easy and took my time. 

And then the sun sank below the clouds.  It was breathtaking and the only sound for a few minutes was the shutters of high-end cameras.

And then it was done.  We piled back into the van and headed back down to the visitor’s center as night rapidly fell. 

Shin parked the van, fixed us hot chocolate and we put on our parkas again as we got out.  He set up a small telescope and started pointing out constellations with a high powered laser.  We looked at the craters of the moon and got time lapse photos taken with the Milky Way as a backdrop.

Living in the city, I had forgotten how many stars there were.

With our hot chocolate finished and the star-gazing done, it was time to head back down the mountain.  The guide dropped us off again at the mall and we walked back to our condo.

We had seen the world from above the clouds, watched a telescope open to greet the night sky, traveled through nearly all the possible climates on Earth in a single day, and marveled at our small place in the universe. 

Not much will catch my attention as I scroll through videos in social media, but the science ones stand the best chance.  A short video from an enthusiastic scientist named Dr. Becky caught my eye and I watched her tell a story about a new space telescope. 

It’s the Euclid telescope and the snippet showed how it scans the sky and provides a view even better than the James Webb telescope.  In passing, Dr. Becky mentioned how it had already had “first light” on the receptors as it was moving into position before it was focused.

There were some nice images of space after that, but I was hung up on the phrase.

Even before it was really ready to “see” the sky, light had already shown on the “eyes” of the telescope  Not something it would “remember”, but that light had been captured – no matter how briefly.

We each had our “first light”, before we were really ready to see or remember.  Of all the light in the universe, we each got a little – right at the start – that was just for us.  

There seems to be more to see each time we humans look skyward and more mysteries to explore just beyond our reach.    Old light from far away, traveling unimaginable distances, to grace our eyes for a moment. 

And there will be a last light for all of us as well.  We’ll each get one last photon before the darkness takes hold – and there will be one last “final light” before the universe goes dark.

For now, the light of the screen streams photons to my eyes and I have this bit of light – just for me. 

I’ve got a few stories from our island trip and decided write them down so I won’t forget them.

The timing was odd for our trip back from Hawaii.  We had to check out of the condo by 11 am – but our flight wasn’t until 9:50 pm. 

We had some time.

So, there was lunch and a trip to a national park.  Along the way, we approached a military cemetery and we decided to stop and check it out.  It was well back from the road and the gate opened when we approached and pulled on through.  We were the only visitors as we pulled into a parking spot and got out.

The part of the island we were on wasn’t crowded like other areas and we had gotten used to the quiet – but this was another level of quiet.  No traffic, no ocean, no birds and most importantly, no other people.  

Just the wind.

It was a beautiful and well maintained cemetery and as we walked around we spoke to each other in hushed tones.  There was a small flower garden, several plaques, flat markers in the ground and several mausoleums – filled with deceased service personnel and their spouses who had made their homes on the islands and served our country.  

We talked quietly about the epitaphs on the markers and though we didn’t know any of the names we got a sense of their stories.

One epitaph below a name reads simply, “Done.”

That one got to me.  It was incredibly sad and so completely final.  

And yet, it was also peaceful.  Maybe the most peaceful place I had ever been. 

There was love there and loss.  There was memory and respect. 

And there was the peace of a journey done.  Finally, a chance to set aside everything and just…rest.

We said quiet goodbyes to these strangers and left them to be. 

Jim and I were out running errands recently and he wanted to stop and get a haircut.  I went in with him  – though that ship has sailed for me – and sat off to the side out of the way.  

I had paper with me, of course, and started to fold a few shapes.  I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to what I was doing and just let the muscle memory take over to pass the time.   I realized that there was a guy sitting across the waiting area that was watching me, so I got out some green paper and folded a small dragon.  I looked over, made eye contact and watched his face light up as I walked over and handed him the small dragon.  

“So cool,” he told me and thanked me – as though I had handed him a fabled treasure.  “It’s even cooler because of this,” he said and pulled the neck of his shirt to the side to show a dragon tattoo on his upper chest and shoulder.  

“Nice!” I responded and he took out his phone to take a picture of the dragon sitting in his hand.

He tucked the dragon into the pocket of his shirt with just the head peeking out – as though it was looking at his phone with him.  

Jim’s haircut was done soon after that and as we left the guy thanked me again and wished me a good day.

But, it already was.  The best part about folding paper is giving it away and sharing with people. 

I was thinking just the other day how lucky I am that this is the hobby that stuck with me.  I’m not good at drawing or painting and I’m not going to win any prizes for writing or photography.  But I can take a simple square of paper and do magic.   And I can give it away freely or just leave it behind where-ever I go with no consequence. 

I made a paper dragon, made a new friend, and shared a little wonder.