We need to do a lot more flood repair work, however, so yesterday Rocket Boy visited the local Disaster Assistance place to apply for a Small Business Administration (SBA) loan. He brought home a form he couldn't finish, the Personal Financial Statement, and I worked on it for two hours last night and then again this morning. That's one reason why today, in contrast to yesterday, was a bad day. Oh, and also, my cold has turned into sinusitis. Excruciating pain in my cheekbones.
Rocket Boy explained that he had started the application process yesterday but hadn't finished it, so Joe had him log into his account. Unfortunately RB had not written down the password and the one he remembered didn't work. After three tries, the system locked us out for 15 minutes. (I think it was at that point that I started to cry.) So we called SBA headquarters and begged them to let us back in sooner than 15 minutes. To do so, they had to send us a new password. They insisted on sending it to a cell phone.
I think I've mentioned before that RB and I are not cell phone people.
RB's cell was not charged -- usually neither of our phones are charged, but today, surprisingly, mine was. However, I can never remember my cell phone number. Joe was going to have me call his cell, he'd capture my number, then give it to the SBA person on the phone and she'd have the system send a text to my phone. But RB found my phone number in his notebook, so he gave it to the woman over the phone and she sent me a text.
I stared at my phone, waiting, and suddenly it made a strange noise. "New Text Message" it said. And I panicked. I couldn't remember how to answer the damn phone. I pressed "OK" and the ringer shut off. I pressed "Back" and the ringer went on again. Then it stopped for good. Had I missed the call? But you can't miss a text, can you? I thought that was the point, that the texts just arrive in your phone for you to look at right then, or later, at your leisure, when you're not sitting in a makeshift Disaster Assistance office with people staring at you. But where was this text? How could I find it? One of the many things I don't know how to do on my phone is retrieve messages and texts. I have to wait until the phone beeps at me, saying "Four new messages!" and then I can push the button that (temporarily) says "Call voice mail." But unless it beeps at me, I'm stuck. "Can I help you?" Joe asked, and I held up my phone to him.
He recoiled, as if I'd just shown him, I don't know, an abacus or something. A stone tablet. "How old is that thing?" he asked me. "Pretty old," I said apologetically. And yet it's not that old -- I got it a few months before the twins were born, so it's less than 6 years old. How can a 6-year-old device be as embarrassing as my phone is?
RB and Joe gave up on me, and began calling the SBA lady back to get her to send the text message to Joe's phone, but then suddenly a miracle happened: my phone beeped at me. "New text message!" it announced, and with great relief I pushed the button that said "Retrieve text message" and I got the text.
Rocket Boy signed on to the system using the new password we'd been texted, and discovered that his application was already complete. It was missing some additional information, like the PFS, but we were to fax that separately. So he hadn't needed to get into the system at all.
We all took a deep breath, and then Joe offered to answer my questions about the PFS. Lickety-split we went down the list and he made it all so much more clear. He found me a new copy of the form so I didn't have to send a messy crossed-out form, and I got busy copying all my answers into the new form, while Joe and RB worked on an application for ANOTHER loan, this one for additional help with repairing our own house (the first loan had been for Clifford's house).
There was a lot going on in that little room -- RB and Joe working on one loan application, while across the table another man worked with another couple on THEIR loan application (I listened disconsolately as the woman effortlessly received a text), and it was hard to concentrate. I needed to add up a column of large numbers, so I pulled out my phone again because, dinosaur that it is, it does have a calculator. Which I know how to find. I typed all the numbers into it and then I couldn't find an = sign. No way to total the numbers. I HAVE DONE THIS BEFORE! WHY CAN'T I DO IT TODAY? Giving up in despair, I put my phone away again and wrote all the numbers on the back of a used sheet of paper and added them up by hand. I have sinusitis, remember, plus I hadn't had lunch, and I was so upset about the phone, RB not writing down his password, the fact that we don't have a working furnace, how am I going to pay the phone bill... that I had a terrible time adding up the numbers. Carry the two and all that. And then I had to subtract another number from the total! That involved borrowing from the next column. I almost started crying again.
And then I looked at my watch and realized it was 2:10. We had to pick up the twins at 2:30 and we were way across town. "We have to go," I said nervously, but Joe wouldn't let us leave until the second loan application was complete. I don't blame him, really.
The Disaster Assistance office is full of giveaways, including snacks. Rocket Boy grabbed a bag of corn chips on his way out and we ate it in the car.
We were only a few minutes late picking up the twins. But it's freezing cold in this house.
No, not a very good day.
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