LMFAO

Vortex:  A whirlwind, whirlpool, or similarly moving matter in the form of a spiral or column; (figuratively): anything that involves constant violent or chaotic activity around some center.

I was zero for three today.  That's a percentage of roughly . . . let's see . . . carry the three . . . subtract seven . . . nothing.  There is no number associated with that mathematical computation. It is not a definable equation.  You can divide three into zero until the large pulsating, veins on your forehead rupture and you die, and the answer WILL NOT VARY, and this is what I accomplished today.

I got up and had a nice devotion, nursing a lovely cup of coffee; a not-too-agonizing swim, always good for my mental health, helping as it does in burning off nervous energy and the effects of the coffee which I do not need; a nice sit in the park with another cup of coffee - refueling the anxiety of the first cup of coffee that the swim had defeated - and the paper.  I arrived home in fine fettle and high spirits, determined to wade into the Large and Massive Financial Organization (or LMFO - Laughing My Fucking Ass Off - I know, I know, I was too lazy to figure out how to get an 'A' into the acronym) gene pool and emerge victorious on the other side.  Or at least not clearly defeated.

The first LMFO was an immovable object and it was really a small bank.  I ran into a brick wall.  Two weeks ago I had contacted these people and nice guy named Dave, flourishing the unmistakable accent of The Old City, helped me get the proper documentation together to close this particular bank account.  It required, of course, a notarized form that had to be faxed in. This meant a trip to the bank and some wheedling to let them use their fax machine.

These documents were sucked into the vortex as so many of them are.  I imagine a parlor in hell where billions of financial documents are swirling around in tornadic winds.  Most of us imagine hell as being very hot - I see an onslaught of paper cuts.
  
Today I spoke to Noel, the Christmas scrivener.  Noel and I were together for about 45 minutes, including long stretches of time when she disappeared, leaving me to endure a particularly horrific loop of "Strangers in the Night."  She never had good news when she came back.  In fact, the news got worse and worse.  She was always asking me questions about the address on file and the account numbers and beneficiaries and countering my answers, taken right off the account statement in front of me, with: "No, that's not right."  I became increasingly agitated. Finally, she came back and explained that there was now another name on the account - in addition to my father's - and that I couldn't do anything without that person's consent.  This was news to me.  I assumed my dad had put my sister's name on the account so she could help with his bills but Noel couldn't - or wouldn't! - confirm any of this.

"Restraint of tongue and pen," right?  Up to that point I had behaved pretty well although I couldn't help pointing out that Dave didn't tell me any of this two weeks ago when it would have been the best time to tell me.

"So, let me get this right," I said.  "I faxed all this stuff in and you people weren't going to do anything to let me know I had sent in the wrong stuff?"

Noel was sorry.  Noel couldn't address Dave's motives or mindset.

I was toast so I decided to terminate the call.

"OK, Mr. Seaweed," said Noel.  "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

There it was again.  There was that question.  Now I assume that these poor workers have to say that.  They all say it so I guess it's in there script.  It blew me up.

I interrupted her: "Why are you asking me that? You haven't helped me with anything yet so how could you help me with something else?  Else is an adjective which means another."

I didn't go on for very long.  I was vaguely aware that getting into a semantic argument about linguistics with a young person working at a bank, probably making a shit wage, was not going to advance my wage.

LMFAO one - Seaweed zero.