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I just spent the greater part of my day yelling into my computer screen after trying to pay a ticket online. Rami has already spent a few days attempting to speak to someone and explaining to them that we shouldn’t have gotten this ticket in the first place, but none of the few humans he reached wanted to hear about it. It wasn’t their issue. So now we have to pay it. FINE. I go online like the paper says. The website they direct me to isn’t a place to pay, it says in Italian, and if I switch it to English, there’s less info. Go to the post office website, they say, so I do, and then we don’t have an account there, so fine I’ll make one. Do I have Rami’s codes that I need? Nope. Have to find those in the depths of my emails. I make an account. I try and pay with our visa (the only other option is mastercard) visa shoots me a message saying “WE’RE SO GLAD YOU’RE PAYING WITH THE CARD BUT IT ISN’T SECURE SO YOU CAN’T USE IT.” …but it is because I am holding it, and this is a government website?

Fine – I go to the other Visa website, looking to reassure another computer that I am real and I would like to begrudgingly spend my money, but there is no option to resolve the issues. “DO YOU WANT A NEW CREDIT CARD?!” the website screams at me. No, I’d really just like to use my money…but alas – I try to login and get a message saying that isn’t possible and to please call a number and presumably wait on hold for hours until a cranky Italian that isn’t at the beach answers and then hangs up when they hear my accent.

I’ll try my US visa then, I decide. But the same thing happens, and my mother isn’t even getting the notifications that she usually gets, and I can’t login to any visa websites with my credentials, and I can’t access our bank without Rami’s phone because of new technology that makes it “safer” aka inaccessible, and ALL I WANT – is to be able to talk to humans and hand them things and they hand things back to me and we smile at each other even if there’s a crappy situation in between us and I realize this is never going to happen. So while I’m seconds away from throwing my computer into the Mugnone, I’ve decided to step away, go buy gnocchi for an alla sorrentina with our last smoked mozzarella, and pray to the gods we can fix this later because if the fine we have to pay doubles because we couldn’t pay on their website and their connections are incompetent, I WILL be the crazy woman in the post office on Monday (because tomorrow is SUNDAY again) screaming her head off with incredulity that this is how society functions and ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! To which everyone will nod yes, and then they’ll finally maybe kinda fix my problem, and everyone will calm down and we’ll all go home and have more pasta and life will be good again and it’ll all be ok – until the next time this happens. Because there is absolutely going to be a next time, to which I say “che palle” which is my favorite Florentine growl of annoyance which literally means “What BALLS” and I’m going to leave you with that translation because there really isn’t a good enough one to understand it any other way.


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