low_delta

I'd been planning, for a couple of weeks to take Cindy to see King Crimson in Madison. I didn't tell her, of course.

Friday was just a lazy day. We were sitting around my place in the morning, and then at noon we came in here to work. She sat and read a book while I made some CDs. Then she went home while I packed up my stuff. I got to her place and asked her if she wanted to go out and see a show. She said yeah, so I told her to get dressed. She thought that was a little odd. Then when she was ready, I told her to pack her overnight bag. Then we left. She had no idea where we were going. It was about an hour drive to Madison. First we checked in at the motel. Then we went in to town and had dinner at an Italian place on State Street. All the way through dinner she was trying to remember what her fortune told her about who we would be seeing, but she couldn't remember it all. "Red. It had something to do with red."

Afterwards we drove off to find the Barrymore Theater. As we drove down the street, she was straining to see who it was that we had come for. "King Crimson? King Crimson! Aaah!" If we had been standing on the street, she probably would have been jumping up and down.

I just cost us $10 grand. I told the customer service rep the part numbers that I created, but I gave him the wrong ones. He sent the customer 19 of the really expensive parts, and he only wanted one of them, and he got only one of the smaller one where he needed 19.

And of course, it's not just the money. It's the irate customer. And the customer service supervisor who spent all afternoon trying to straighten this mess out.