They missed us again. For the second week in a row, the big blue trash truck sped past our awaiting trashcan filled with dirty diapers, banana peels, stale crackers, kitty litter, empty milk jugs, deconstructed Amazon boxes and so much more.
I called the number on our last bill for customer service and was greeted by a male with a deep voice.
“Is this Ms. Puney?” he asked.
He recognized me from the past week of calls inquiring about the status of our trash pick-up. We were on the verge of friendship; we spoke so frequently. Although, our friendship had a serious problem with honesty. He reassured me at each call that we were indeed on the missed trash pick-up route.
And the trash kept piling up.
“Just be patient with us, we’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
“Well, you said that yesterday and they missed us again.” I explained struggling to keep the irritation out of my voice.
I could see the trash through the window, overflowing with white plastic bags. There were black flies buzzing around and in the bags. It was only a matter of time before a buzzard swooped down and broke into one of the top bags, scattering debris all over the road and yard. From there it would be a wild animal free-for-all, knocking over the bin and tearing into the remaining bags.
I shuddered in disgust.
“Ma’am, I am so sorry they missed you again,” he apologized.
“Do you know what happened?” I pried, trying to gain some insider intel.
“They don’t give us that kind of information,” he explained with another apology.
Apparently, the activity of the trash people was privileged information, given only to a select few. I wondered if anyone actually had this information and assumed the drivers had gone rogue, picking up trash where they pleased.
“You aren’t driving the truck, so you have nothing to apologize for. I just want our trash picked up.”
“Amen, I hear that.”
My friend, the customer service trash man, made me laugh. He gave no new information aside from another empty promise of pick-up. I hung up *almost* forgetting my hard feelings until I looked out the window and saw the trash exactly where we left it, in an ever-growing collection.
Waiting on an unanswered prayer.