I like to think that I can do it all when Josh is away, but sometimes I run into unexpected brick walls. The other day I wanted to get a copy of our cell phone bill so I could tell how much credit we had left and how much money I needed to add to our account. I arrived at the kiosk with my phone, my residence card, and my passport. She looked up the information in the computer and told me that the account is in Josh’s name, not mine, so I couldn’t have a copy of the bill. Even though I had his residence paperwork, since I’m not actually him, she couldn’t help me. Awesome. I’m only his wife and in possession of the phone that is part of the account, but no go. Oh well. I wonder how long I can go without paying before they shut off my service . . .
Today I went to base to get the mail from Josh’s work. I don’t usually have to get mail from there because I now have a post office box that I can access myself (Moms remind me to give you that address), but because it was Caleb’s birthday a few things had been sent to the office. I stopped by there in my yoga pants after Pilates class, sweating buckets. Not because of my workout (I love Pilates because it’s virtually sweat free), but because it was over 100 degrees and 50% humidity. Dripping.
I’m not going to name any work people by name, but I was escorted into the building by Marine 1, and I do mean escorted because only people with a special computer chipped ID can get into the building and I was offered a seat in an office where they must not have had any secure information visible. Marine 1 tells Marine 2 to go see about getting my mail for me and I try to not look too conspicuous as I wait. Then Marine 3 comes in and asks, “Do you know if your husband has filled out a form giving you permission to pick up his mail? Because we really can’t give it to you without it.” I replied that I had picked up mail before without a problem and Marine 4 said, “Aw, just give it to her.” Marine 3 disappears to check and see if he can ethically give me someone else’s mail as other Marines pass through and ask, “How’s it going?” Aside from me feeling out of place and just wanting to get my mail and disappear? Perfect.
Next, boss Marine walks through and determines that I’m there for mail and that the appropriate paperwork isn’t on file so he suggests someone in the office place an easy phone call to Josh so that they can get verbal confirmation that it’s OK for me to pick up the mail. His reasoning was that it was better to be safe than to break any federal laws. Great, Josh is going to love that. Marine 5 said he could handle that until he asked me where Josh was, and I replied, “Baghdad. Iraq.” He started and gave me a look that said, “that’s ridiculous” and I just shrugged in return.
I offered up that I did have a power of attorney that should allow me to do anything in place of Josh and Marine 6 said, “Don’t worry. You’re getting your mail” and went to investigate what was taking Marines 2 and 3 so long. She came back a few minutes later with a package and envelopes in hand and said, “Here you go. Have a great day ma’am.” I started to leave and then realized someone had to let me out since not only can unauthorized people not get into Josh’s work, but they can’t get out either.
Come home soon babe!