I have been meaning to do two things:
1) Call my car insurance company.
2) Write about my mojo.
Somehow, they have wrapped themselves together in what will be this posting.
I wanted to ask the car insurance company about some information which appeared on my last statement. Mostly, I wanted to make sure I didn't have to do anything to actually renew the policy. I also wanted to inquire about a line item that seemed to indicate my rates were about to decrease.
I had been wanting to do that since...oh...last Tuesday. I kept putting it off and putting it off until this Wednesday night finally forced my hand.
On the way to Trader Joe's to grab some groceries, someone two cars behind me had some trouble stopping. And by trouble, I mean they stopped themselves all the way into the car in front of them which so kindly planted a kiss on my back bumper.
As fender benders go, it was nothing to write home about. But for the damage to the front bumper of the car that seemed to initiate the contact and the rear bumper of the car that kissed mine, it almost wouldn't be anything to write your insurance company about either.
But, since all three drivers exchanged insurance information, I figured I may as well give Progressive a ring and knock out a nest of birds with just one stone.
My mojo has been...how shall we say...off...for a while now. I don't recall when it started. Why. Or how. I just know that I've felt like I'm watching a third-string (or maybe a D-League) version of myself in action for quite some time now.
My stories aren't as entertaining as usual. My jokes don't hit like they ought to. And I've been having trouble with words. Like, I'm frequently blanking out on simple things. Not even stuck-on-the-tip-of-my-tongue blank. More like The-Haitian-just-paid-me-a-visit blank. I can't explain it. I just know that I've felt this way. For several weeks.
(Yes, it is possible that my stories were never entertaining at all. That my jokes are notoriously unfunny. And that I am truly an imbecile. It's all possible. Likely, even. But humor me, okay?)
On Thursday, I dialed Progressive from my office. A woman named Roxanne answered. I've only known a couple of Roxannes in my life and, from what I know, a woman named Roxanne is always equals good.
I explained the purpose of my call and we started into the business. Turns out my policy was scheduled to automatically renew. Also turns out that I was eligible for some discounts I wasn't even aware of. Something to do with level of education. Which lead to a tangent about how Roxanne was still stutterstepping her way through grad school. We discussed it for a good 15 minutes. During which I suggested that she parlay her background in archaeology into a career as an astronaut.
(I know archaeology is supposed to be the study of human culture, but why limit it? Can't it be the study of all sentient cultures? Besides, it made Roxanne laugh. And that's what counts.)
We eventually rounded back to the discounts for which I was eligible. $40 lopped off my monthly charge. And a credit of a hundred-some dollars. I explained to her the story of the fender bender that drove me to call. Which caused us to trade stories of other fender benders for 10 minutes or so before Roxanne reported that no claim has been established for the Wednesday night incident.
We traded another couple of jokes. I opted not to initiate a claim (Figuring one of the other drivers might call and want to handle damages offline) and thanked Roxanne for her help. She thanked me for providing the best little chat of the day.
After I hung up, I stepped out of my office and I felt...kinda...normal. Like my mojo had just returned. I didn't know what to do with it. Other than celebrate it with a sandwich and a cup of creamy tomato soup. And to announce on twitter that I had just enjoyed the most pleasant phone call with a car insurance company. Ever.
On Friday, I received a call from State Farm. One of the other drivers had launched the claim process and my angle of the story was needed. It was...a dry, benign experience. Neither good nor bad for the mojo.
I also got a call from the homie Dominic. He shared an idea that sparked a series of conversations which lead to me vaguely helping him connect with RYZ.
Today, Saturday, the homie Donnie called to share some news about his documentary project on the Finday College Prep Hoop team. I gave him what I hope will be some similarly beneficial information.
And now, as I sit in the basement watching college hoop, I'm feeling a lil more like the starting line-up version of myself. Maybe it's the basketball. Maybe it's the reconnects with the old friends. Maybe it was the phone call with Roxanne. Maybe a lil bit of everything.
Who knows? Who needs to?
The mojo. Is rising.