Thursday, May 8, 2014

#GetYourShitTogetherCarol

Last night was my first writing class at DCH.  Yep, you read that right.  Yours truly is taking an intro to sketch writing class. Maybe this momma will learn how to write with some grace or proper etiquette. Maybe there's hope for us after all. Anyway, there were a lot of this girl's brain cells being exercised, and in a very creative and emotional manner, (I'm saying this to justify my later actions), so when Amanda (her name is linked to her Twitter so that you all can enjoy her funny-ness via 140-character lines), our kickass instructor*, turned to everyone at one point and said, "Hey, our final showcase performance will be on Thursday, June 26, at 7:00PM... does that work for everybody? Yeah? Ok, great.," I just nodded my head like a robot with no thought process happening/no recollection of prior, pricy June plans I had made...

A few hours later I get home from DCH and I'm going through hundreds of emails that I haven't even paid attention to from the past few weeks.  At around 2AM, I suddenly realized that I had a flight booked for Thursday, June 26th, at 3:15PM, out of the madness that is DFW airport.  (My brain has an excellent spam filter when it comes to my Gmail accounts, but clearly I need to work on filtering the important ones, like, oh, maybe effing Delta flight reminders).  

So, in natural Mallory fashion, my lips pursed together like Miranda Priestley's in The Devil Wears Prada.  I felt nauseous and had to grab my Tums.  I glared at my screen with the same look that the dumbass crow's nest boy had after spotting the iceberg for the first time in Titanic.  This was no bueno.  Obviously as a diehard DCH groupie, I was not going to miss an event!  Especially one that I'm supposed to be in!  The thought of that is just absurd!  Pure blasphemy!  But so is the idea of canceling a non-refundable flight with Delta...  -__-  

You see, about a month ago, after a night of Tito's at the DCH, I had this brilliant idea of just up and going to the annual Del Close Marathon in NYC.  It's held at the UCB, which is where my idol Amy Poehler holds some stomping grounds, and it's supposedly one, long, hot, amazing weekend chockfull of super great improv shows.  Heaven on earth?  Sounds like it.  I mean, why the heck not, right?  So I booked a flight that night, called up Diana, one of my best friends from the city, confirmed couch arrangements, and said YOLO.  (Yep, I went there with that one.  I'm already ashamed).

Clearly, I just have bad luck with timing.  Always have, always will.  Nowadays I just try to embrace the fact that my name truly means 'bad luck' in some cultures.  So, I spent all of this morning trying to negotiate a deal with Jen, a young, sweet-sounding-but-policy-knowing Delta agent with just the kind of annoying customer service skills that an airline agent must have to survive in the jungle that is the aviation industry.  She had a thick accent and was trying to B.S. me from the get-go.  I've worked in all kinds of customer service positions so I never get irate with anyone working with the public because I get it.  Us former/current customer service slaves have to band together.  But, you can't bullsh*t the queen bullsh*tter, sister. I was not going to pay any cancellation fees because technically a few weeks ago Delta had changed my returning flight time, so I was legally free from having to give my arm or leg had any subsequent changes been required as a result of Delta's unreliable service.

Two hours and two "supervisor consultations" later, Jen gave up.  She felt the defeat.  And she soon realized that I may have lost the first battle... BUT I WON THE WAR.  I got my flight canceled with no problemo.  Ha, I say that.  I was on my iPhone for two effing hours.  There was clearly a problem at some point.  But nevertheless, I got what I wanted.  And I was able to put my theatre skills to use by pretending to be a night nurse whose boss needed her back for night shift that Monday (my return flight that Delta delayed arrival times on), no questions asked.  That was fun/interesting, keeping up with the details that I had made up and B.S.'d to her an hour ago.  Side note: if you ever get Jen with Delta, just know that the homegirl doesn't forget details so be prepared.  With a script.

In conclusion, did I learn a lesson from this?  Nah, not really.  Yeah, I'm going to miss the Del Close Marathon, miss seeing Diana, and miss visiting my most favorite city in the entire world.  It sucks but sh*t happens.  Will I ever use/call Delta airlines again?  Heck no.  But I can't really complain in this situation.  It's not like my alternative was being shipped to Guantanamo Bay.  I'm going to get to spend all weekend at DCH, where they can't get rid of me!  AND, I get to go to my writing showcase.  *cue ice cold beer glasses full of shiner cheers-ing*

The most appropriate photo to illustrate how I felt this morning/feel in general in regards to speaking with Delta Airlines agents is of Laura Dern from Enlightened, one of my most favorite shows of all time.  She is my spirit animal.  For sure.


*denotes that ye all reading this shall visit DCH and watch Amanda perform.  She's in several troupes so you'll have to do your own DCH site research, but she's hilarious and legendary and I tell her this drunkenly all the time, so you guys can be the next ones to do so.  FYI, Local Honey & Manick are two of my all-time DCH faves.