Finding Stuff and Losing Friends

Quote of the Day: "You can't have everything. Where would you put it?"

- Steven Wright

Friends and Family,

I found out today that they found my stuff I had shipped over here.

Where has it been all this time? Well, I think it’s been sitting in Riyadh since July 2nd but others would have me believe otherwise.

You see, I had it shipped right after I left so that my stuff and I would meet up here in Jeddah about the same time. When I got to Riyadh, though, they said they had never heard from the San Diego folks who were supposed to call them and let them know my stuff was on its way.

So what did the fine people in Riyadh do? You suggest they call up San Diego and straighten this out? Funny, that’s what I would have guessed too.

They simply sent an email and were shocked when nothing happened no matter how much I called up and bitched about it.

“We sent the email. Do you have the tracking number?”

“No, I can’t get it but it’s your system and I kind of doubt that you have hundreds of shipments from a Major Grose leaving San Diego en route to Saudi Arabia. Tell you what, if you look in your little system and you see ANY shipment from a Major Grose leaving San Diego en route to Saudi Arabia, yeah, that will likely be it. You can go with THAT tracking number and I can almost guarantee you that will be my stuff, Sparky.”

The perfect storm was that the information they needed in Riyadh was safely with my wife who, as it turned out, was vacationing in Seattle. The paperwork, meanwhile, was in San Diego.

So she just got back, made a phone call, sent me the information, and I forwarded it to Riyadh, also known as “doing their friggin’ job for them.”

Then I get a phone call that miraculously, my stuff arrived in Riyadh yesterday.

Yesterday.

How convenient if not an outright lie.

They tried to give me some BS about it just arriving yesterday because they consider it “received in Riyadh” once it makes JFK and they had to send it to Germany because of some plane problems blah blah blah …

“Look, where is my stuff right now?”

“Here in Riyadh, Sir.”

“Very good, now, when do I get my stuff.”

“It has to be processed and then a deliver has…”

“WHEN do I get my stuff. It’s a simple question.”

“Hopefully next week but if not, the week after that.”

“Bug them every day and give me updates as they occur. Out.”

It took my wife making a call to put a fire under people and then suddenly it was all set.

Why?

Why did it take my wife to get this machine to work? Meanwhile my stuff has been baking somewhere in a Riyadh warehouse probably with a goat sitting and shitting all over it.

What pisses me off even more is that this is almost expected. The process would SEEM to be easy in theory: you have them pack up your stuff, they send it to Riyadh, they forward it to Jeddah, and I get my household furnishings.

But everyone will pessimistically tell you: “Oh, yeah, you’ll be lucky if you see it within your first two months. SOMETHING will happen.”

Oh, it got hung up in New York. The plane had problems. We can’t find the paperwork to trace it. Our head swelled up so we can’t quite get it out of our asses until the new shipment of Vaseline arrives…

I don’t buy it. I don’t accept that.

Am I the first friggin’ person to have his trash shipped over here? I don’t think so. Why is there ALWAYS SOMETHING when it comes to this?

And the kicker is that this is not the Saudis fault (everything over here is blamed on them which 99% of the time is correct). This is American idiocy and inept jackassery at its best.

OK, I’m done with this for now and all would have been the makings of a crappy day if it wasn’t the masalama for the Brit’s wife who is actually Irish.

All her friends in the compound gathered to celebrate. She had made so many friends here and was probably to biggest “mother hen” to everyone in our group that it was hard for everyone, especially her. She wanted to stay, believe it or not. She was really depressed about leaving.

We all drank, ate, talked, and laughed by the pool. Ali had brought the food and it was a Turkish affair with chicken, beef, and lamb kabobs. There was rice and lamb chops, bread, and ice cream.



But most of all, there was love and camaraderie. Like I’ve always said, when you are stuck on a desert island, you get to know the other castaways well and this was no exception. In fact, Linda seemed to have become the central hub to many of the social events in the Compound so it was hard for everyone to say goodbye.

I stayed until 1:00 in the morning as we sat around and talked. Ali and I were the only two who were not drinking tea so it was easier on us to stay up late. A few who I will not name (Mike) had to be helped back to their villas and will have a very restful day tomorrow.



In the short time that I’ve been here, Linda has been a welcoming, friendly, and comforting presence. She never failed to offer us a drink or whatever she was baking that day the moment we walked through her door. She instantly adopted Mike and me from day one and fed us more times in the two weeks we’ve been here than we have fed ourselves.

The Compound will be less without her.

Much less.

So I say to ye, Linda….

“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of his hand."



Free FML for Today: “Today, I was stuck crouching over the toilet after a night of drinking. My fiancé walked in, gathered my hair, and held it out of the way. When another wave of nausea hit me and I leaned in, he shoved my face into the bowl and ran out, laughing and yelling, "That'll teach ya!" FML.”