Change of Address Forms

At approximately 4:19 PM on Sunday October 1, 2006 the dust was beginning to settle on a controversial play that saw the Arizona Diamondbacks season end with a 7-6 defeat by the play-off bound San Diego Padres. At approximately 4:20 PM on Sunday October 1, 2006 I began to make plans for the 2007 baseball season. There was so much to do. For the previous two weeks I had been visiting different sections of the ballpark with my camera and notebook in hand making notes so that when season ticket renewal and seat relocation packages arrived I would be ready. I was initially concerned when I hadn’t heard from the Diamondbacks but finally my envelope arrived and it was time to begin. I went through the packet with a fine tooth comb reading each word over and over. I then made a trip to Chase Field to make sure that I had accurately decided on my choices. Finally I went to the Diamondbacks web site and renewed my season tickets. I then rushed to the fax machine to send my relocation form. Not wanting to take any chances I also sent an email to season ticket services where I attached my form, the receipt from the online transaction and a plea to the baseball powers that I would be able to successfully relocate. All that was left to do was patiently wait to see what the outcome would be. It has been a struggle with me not knowing where exactly I would be sitting for the 2007 season. According to the forms, the seat relocation process should be completed by the holidays. Since Christmas though I have eagerly been checking my mailbox (much to the disdain of my mail carrier) waiting for the big announcement. As of Monday this week I still had not heard from the Diamondbacks and my impatience grew to the point that I had to do something about it. I picked up the phone and hit the emergency services speed dial number on my phone which has been reprogrammed and no longer dials “911” but now dials the offices of the Arizona Diamondbacks. On the other end a polite young lady asked how she could assist me. I inquired when the seat relocation process would be complete. Puzzled she answered that it had been finished for a few weeks. My heart leaped to my throat and I barely could form the words. “Could you please tell me where I will be sitting for the upcoming season?” I asked. She looked up my account number and returned to state I was sitting in the same seats as last season. How could that be? Were season tickets so popular that none of the 20 choices of the 106 rows and 25,120 seats I had identified were available? The young lady then stated that they had not received a seat relocation form from me. Actual panic began to take control of me.

I don’t remember a lot after that as I had assumed the mental fetal position. How could all of my plans and all of my calculations not have been received? It was inconceivable and at the same time completely depressing. The only other time I ever felt this way was when my third grade teacher read Where the Red Fern Grows and we found out that the dogs Big Dan and Little Ann died. I probably sounded desperate and completely incoherent. The woman on the other end of the phone must have suddenly felt like her job function changed from season ticket representative to someone who mans the suicide hot line. She calmly tried to talk me off the ledge by offering to assist me. She asked that I fax my form again and she would call me back. I rushed to the fax machine and frantically beat on the keypad. I then rushed back and sat staring at the phone. At this moment I would like to personally apologize to any girl that I dated and promised to call them tomorrow. I had no idea how it felt to be left hanging like that. It was inexcusable behavior and I am right now going through my high school yearbook in an attempt to find their phone number to personally apologize. So I waited and I worried and I willed the phone to ring. Finally it did ring and before the sound could even resonate in my ear I had the receiver up to answer. They had received my form and would begin to see what they could do. They say there are no atheists in foxholes. Personally I have no idea who “they” are nor do I understand what that saying has to do with the burrowing activities of small furry animals. But I can attest that there are no atheists during seat relocation meltdown. I started praying to deities that I know, those I don’t know and even a few that I think I made up. I have to give the Diamondbacks staff credit here. They could tell how important this was to me and they went out of the way to keep me informed as the day progressed. I am not sure whether this was a product of great customer service or if this woman truly believed I would probably commit Harry Carey if I didn’t hear something. By the end of the day I had heard back from season ticket services and they brought tidings of great joy. They were able to find a combination of the 25,120 seats that I had identified that they felt would meet my needs. They happily announced that for the 2007 Major League Baseball season, my new summer home would be Section 132 Row 15 Seats 13-14. Tears of joy silently fell to rest on my tattered seat relocation form. I can’t be positive but I think I offered a blessing upon the ticket agent and all of her posterity. It was truly a miracle or as close to a miracle I would probably ever see considering I was praying to made up deities a few minutes ago.

After an inconceivable number of thank-you’s I hung up emotionally drained. My relief and peace were short lived though. Before long I came to the realization of what lie ahead. I am changing addresses! I need to stop the newspaper. I need to go to the post office and get a stack of those change of address forms. I have to call and tell all of my friends that I am moving. I have to change my letterhead. I may need to get some friends lined up to help me move. Oh man, I only have 76 days before I move into my new place. I need to get some boxes, some tape, and some magic markers. Oh, I need to call Trina and tell her we are moving. She is going to be so excited.

1 Comment

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