Venting, again...

The older I get the more irritated I become when companies bullshit me. Avis' crap was bad enough, for this week, but I'm also getting the run-around from Ingram. I placed an order for 3 copies of APoS-Derry back on January 3rd and told them to override the actual publication date of January 16th to get them to me ASAP. They're still in progress. And Ingram is using the winter storm as their excuse.

Thing is, I also ordered a copy through B&N to make sure it turns out good when going through their system. Same for Amazon. I do that for all my books. It's expensive but makes me feel better. I had one occasion, I think with Carli's Kills, where the copy that I got from Amazon was so bad I made Ingram reset everything.

Anyway, I placed the order with B&N on the 17th and got that book day before yesterday. A week later. Yet all I'm getting from Ingram is a big shrug of an explanation.

I was in the office, today, and heard one of the people I work with having a lovely back and forth with United Airline's Freight division, trying to get them to correct the customs entry for a 5 pallet shipment coming in from the UK. They'd entered only 1 pallet as arriving. Can't clear Customs into the US or anywhere unless everything on the airway bill and manifest matches what's being on-handed at the receiving end.

My associate was having a hell of a time getting them to understand that. While this did not happen to me, it fed into a darkening mood I was building about the stupidity of people, in general. Which, TBH, started last night after too much back and forth with some MAGAts who thought I'd let them argue with me indefinitely.

Which led me into not sleeping well. And today I was handling some foreign book dealers...who've been exhibiting at book fairs in the US for years but still cannot understand import/export requirements. Or even how to add. For example--never in the history of mathematics has 27+50=74.

I was done with my part at 4pm so headed out, bought some groceries and visited the bank, and through the evening my mood just got darker and darker...to the point I couldn't even figure out what to do about dinner, I was so out of it. I wound up having some cold pizza at home. Pizza with a chewy crust. That is not right. But then nor is making pepperoni with chicken, like Red Baron does.

So no writing done. Just moping and telling one of the more insistent voices in my head that I hated it. It's always suggesting I do this instead of that or vice-versa, then laughing at me when I follow its suggestion and it turns out wrong.

And if that doesn't sound psychotic of me, yet, just you wait...