Football wasn’t much of a distraction while driving the Pennsylvania Turnpike Sunday.  Piloting a 16-foot truck filled with all my worldly goods I was also towing a car behind the truck.  The Steelers were hammering the Bills and while I wasn’t happy about that I was more concerned with other drivers.  Like the fellow tailgating me on an exit ramp or the fellow who passed me and then nearly ran me off the road by pulling back in front of me, by just a nose. 

 
That the Mets lost was small consolation.  My knuckles are still sore from the drive.
 
On the list of “Things Bill Hates” moving must make the top three. 
 
Today I told a friend that it has been the perfect storm.  The payment information I was given by the truck rental agent was wrong.  I was forced to scramble Sunday morning to find another method for renting the truck.  My first radio station paycheck helped and I made it to the bank and personally deposited it Saturday morning.  Through a living and breathing teller, however.  It doesn’t get credited to the account until today and as of noon was still pending.
 
An old friend from my early radio days promised to loan me some money.  A few weeks ago his dad handed him some old government bonds worth 65,000 dollars.  My friend is doing O.K. but he currently has no bank checks.  Someone at his bank lost the slip and his last check order is “pending”.  His offer meant the world to me but he has no available cash and for the moment no access to his account.
 
And the United States Postal Service.  My friends, this organization just screams out for the efficiencies privatization could deliver.  This Monday morning Human Resources telephoned to tell me my last check had been located.  Is this related to any telephone calls I made to a member of the House of Representatives?  The best answer, right now, is “Don’t know?”  I’ve not worked for the Postal Service for several weeks.  Turns out I’m still listed as an active employee.  Turns out someone set my paycheck aside and figured it wasn’t a priority.  Well, not a priority for whomever made that decision.  Strange that I’ve already been paid here at the Talk of Delmarva and yet my friends at the government are just getting the check in the mail.  It’s my hope it doesn’t go through the shredding machine I used to operate.  And I’m guessing it won’t arrive until Friday.  Delaware is supposed to be just two days delivery from New York.  Right…
 
And since I’m still banking with a company that has no local branches I can then mail it back to New York where it will become a pending deposit for another few days.  I’ll have two paychecks here before I have any access to my last postal check.
 
Now friends have asked why I didn’t have direct deposit?  Because nobody at the postal sorting center offered it.  Then they ask why I haven’t opened a bank account here?  The first and best answer is my finances and how I conduct them aren’t your business.  I rank these questions right up there with, “Do you mind if I ask how much money you make?”  One friend really asks me that.  Coincidentally he also works as a Postmaster in a small town. 
 
The other answers are that there are certain reasons related to family and other financial matters that compel me to remain with Key Bank for the near future.  Again, my friends really don’t need to know this.
 
I give them no advice about money, women or career choices.  Why do they insist on thinking they must counsel me about these things?  Come to think of it most of them have rotten luck with all those money, women and career decisions.  I don’t want to contribute to the cause. 
 
Look, friends, I graduated cum laude and I didn’t put any special effort into my studies.  When I managed million dollar news budgets I once brought the yearly cost in by 13 dollars below the line.  This after being asked if I could contain spending.  Young people I brought into TV now fill the network news ranks. 
 
Then there is the I.Q. thing.  Some guy on the Internet put out a test.  I took it and was in a hurry and scored a 126 because I blew off the math questions. 
 
So, friends, stop with all the advice. 
 
Have I been stressed lately?  You bet.  Does it show on this blog?   Hey, sorry.  When I’m unpacked I’ll cool down.  Give me 3 weeks and I’ll be the happiest guy on the planet.  But for now put the advice aside and I’ll reward you with a very funny story about the man helping me unpack.

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