I tried to make a credit card payment online today.
I typed my username into the box.
It was wrong.
Checked the Caps Lock. And tried again.
I swigged my coffee, cursed and attacked the keypad with a deliberate sforzando on every single lowercase letter with my right index finger.
Result. At last.
Next came the password.
The cursor was flashing with anticipation.
I flexed my index finger before carefully tapping the keypad to insert the letters into the hungry box.
But it was of course... WRONG.
Hint: A 'Memorable word'.
I wiped the sweat from my brow, cursed and tried to decide which word would be so significant to me personally that I would deem it to be worthy of being the most 'Memorable' of all words in my extensive vocabulary.
My name? My age? My name AND age? My son's name? His birthday? His place of birth, MY place of birth? My favourite pet, restaurant, song?? My first pet? My LAST pet? My first love? My shoe size....BRA SIZE....my hopes AND dreams....???
Rage was building- especially as Madame Gazelle was once again murdering the 'Bing Bong Song' as my alphabet-obsessed 5 year old stood over my shoulder listing all of the letters in the order that they appeared on the keyboard. 'Look Mummy, it's a Q, it's a W, it's an E, it's an R, a T.....a YYYYYYYY!'
'Y?!'... Y indeed. Y oh y!??
I inhaled a cake and called the bank.
Automated masculine voice.
'He' couldn't understand my answers to his questions...even when I shouted them down the phone in the Queen's English accent.
So I endured 663 seconds of Vivaldi's Four Seasons played on the soul-soothing panpipes before being put through to a human. A real one.
This was it. I was ready to unleash the full force of my feminine rage. I was ready to release all the darkness that I had been harbouring deep within my core for the last 35 years on this Earth. It was coming...it was surging up my chest like a wave of hot magma.
And then, it enveloped me: The soft, sultry tones of the Scottish accent... thrown over me like a thick warm blanket.
'Hellllloooooow, how can I hellllp ye Missess Coxx?'
Automatic rage diffusal...shlurrr.
A feeling of intense warmth glided down my spinal chord: like the feeling you get when you hug a newborn, or when you sink your teeth into a hot, gravy-drenched Yorkshire pudding.
He had me. I was his.
I don't think I could have been more pleasant.
We spoke for some time. It could have been minutes, maybe hours.
I have no idea what was said. But I felt safe. I felt loved.
I hung up the phone and hugged my kids.
Payment was still not made. But it's ok.
Everything is just ok.
I'm in the semi-final of the fabulous Britmum's BiB awards!! Help me get to the FINAL by voting for me at the link below: FRESH VOICE CATEGORY- Carry On Katy!! It takes seconds and will make me happy for YEARS!!!