Oklahoma Dreaming: Western Union
by Donna Schoenkopf
The main idea of this story is not WHY my son needed money, but I’ll tell you anyway.
He left his bag, containing all his money, his contracts, his newspapers, and his phone (with all his customers’ numbers on it) on the bus ... the bus he rode every day, all day, to deliver his super hip newspaper and sign people up for advertising.
How many of us could conduct a business that way? Carrying bags of papers and getting on and off the bus hour after hour and keeping everything together.
Okay. Put your hands down. You all THINK you could do it. BUT ... you just MIGHT accidentally leave your entire business on the bus. So be a little humble, please.
The first good break after The Loss occurred came in the form of a phone call to John’s dad from a guy named Mark who said he had John’s phone. He lived in Pico Rivera, a long way from John. John could reach Mark by calling John’s phone to make arrangements to pick it up.
And, no, there weren’t any contracts or papers or money on the bus ... just the phone.
Things get complicated when everything you have is wiped out. One has to take circuitous routes to get from A to B. So to give you the short version, I was enlisted to call Mark.
Next complication:
When I called Mark to make arrangements for John to pick up his phone, I discovered Mark had turned the phone off.
I guess Mark didn’t want to waste its battery charge.
So we had no idea where Mark was or how to reach him.
So we waited.
I re-called the number several times, from Oklahoma, thank you, flat rate.
Still turned off.
THEN! After several tries and quite some time, a break in luck.
Mark answered.
He had a gruff voice. (My mind pictured him as a guy with a ZZ Top red, scraggly beard.)
I asked if John could meet him in Pico Rivera. He said that would be great, and that he would keep the phone on and wait to hear from him.
Well, my son had no money even for a phone call or a bus ride, so I told him I would wire him $100. That would have to last him for a couple of weeks. I’d send it Western Union. Immediate payment.
But he had no ID. John said he could use a password. Okay.
I called the local Western Union in Shawnee. I asked if I could just use my credit card to make the payment. They said no, not in their store, but that I could do it over the phone on the 800 number.
Okey doke.
I called the 800 number, waited through endless recorded messages and finally reached an operator. A nice operator with a slight L.A.-Latino accent. He took my information and started the process. That’s when I told him my son had no ID.
Oooops. Western Union needs to have an actual physical PERSON placing the order when the receiver doesn’t have ID. It couldn’t be done over the phone after all. I would have to go to the Western Union office in Shawnee. With cash.
Okay.
Got in the car. Stopped at the Bison ATM (FREE! NO CHARGE!), withdrew $100 and drove over to the Western Union office, at 110 E. Broadway. Parked the car. Started walking down the sidewalk and realized I was at 110 WEST Broadway, but kept walking because it was six of one and half a dozen of the other on the question of returning to my car.
On I trudged, with logistics on my mind—Mark in Pico Rivera, John taking a two hour bus ride to Pico Rivera AND back again. Bus schedules. Battery running out on John’s phone. All this in the sweltering, humid heat of an Oklahoma summer day, until I got to the Hallmark store where the Western Union office was.
I walked in. A young woman and an older woman greeted me. I told them I was the lady who had called earlier. They remembered me. We began our business. I told Older Lady that my son had no ID. She said, “No problem. We shall have a password and I will instruct them not to ask for ID.”
We sealed the deal and I went home. (I had a dinner date with Larry and Helen and was all happy that I was going to the Big City. Oh, boy!)
I relaxed, puttered in my air conditioned housie and thought about other things.
Until the phone rang.
John’s frustrated voice said, “I can’t get the money. There’s a problem with the paperwork.”
“Just tell the guy your password.”
“I already did. He said the box wasn’t checked.”
Oh, God. This was getting complicated.
We went back and forth a little and then I asked John to ask the Western Union station guy what we could do. I could hear him in the background, barking at John.
He was aggravated!! With a capital A. Just call Western Union, he barked.
Okay.
I hung up, called Western Union’s 800 number.
I got Joe. He was a friendly guy. Calm. Happy. Another slight L.A.-Latino accent. I told him about the situation, short version.
Oh, no problem, he said calmly, his friendly voice quieting my anxiety over the phone.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
I gave him account numbers, etc. and after a bit he said he had fixed the problem and John could pick up the money now.
All right!!
But how to reach John?
He’d still be at the Quik Stop Liquor store, with Angry Store Owner, waiting for his money. So I called information and got the liquor store’s phone number, and got Angry Store Owner on the phone.
I told him who I was and the problem was fixed and asked if my son was still there.
No, John had left.
Oh, great.
And, no, the problem wasn’t fixed ... the BOX wasn’t checked. Yes, John had the right password, but the BOX WASN’T CHECKED.
Okay. I would call the guys at Western Union. Again.
So I did. Wondering where John was.
This time I got Gio. Another friendly and nice voice with a slight L.A.-Latino accent. He took all my info and, when he brought my account up, discovered that the BOX REMAINED UNCHECKED, but that HE, GIO, had just checked the box and it was good to go.
For real?
Yes.
Goody.
So I put on my Big City outfit and my makeup and climbed into my car for a long ride to Oklahoma City and a nice dinner with my darling friends.
But halfway to Oklahoma City, in the car, I got another call from John on my cell phone. He still couldn’t get the money. The problem wasn’t fixed.
I asked him what phone he was using to call me. He had had a stroke of luck in having a friend a couple of blocks from the store and was using his friend’s phone. That’s why he hadn’t stayed at the store.
I hung up and placed another call to Western Union. I got Rogelio. Same L.A.-Latino accent. And because I was now using my cell phone, we had to re-establish my identity and he had to call me back to verify who I said I was. He called me back. We fixed the problem. For sure. No really. Really. He swore to God. Checking the box. He was doing it. Right now.
I believed.
I called the Quik Stop again to tell them everything had been fixed. A woman answered. She was nice. She said to hold on, she would get Angry Store Guy.
I waited a loooooooooooooong time. Over ten minutes. He finally got on. I told him the problem was fixed. For sure, this time.
He checked. It was not.
He hated me ... with a cold, hard hate.
He screamed at me in an infuriated, almost hysterical voice that he wasn’t going to give John the money, EVER, even if it DID get fixed!!!!
I said, “But, but ... you HAVE to give John the money,” and he said, “Sue me! I’m sick of this problem!!!!!”
My teeth were clenched.
By now I had pulled up to Larry’s house, had placed ANOTHER call to Western Union, and was waiting for all the recorded messages to go through their paces.
Pal Larry waved to me from his balcony and I said that I had a situation and explained it briefly while I kept my ear cocked to the ramblings of the recording. We walked into the house, and he fixed me a martini while I “held.”
A voice finally came on. This time I got Kim. I asked her for her supervisor. Martin got on the phone. He had just a trace of a L.A.-Latino accent. I detected it when he said his name. “Mar-TEEN.” He didn’t ask me for a bunch of information, just said hold on, came back on in a couple of minutes and gave me a NEW account number, told me HE was the one who could change everything and for sure, absolutely, positively, guaranteed, he PROMISED, John could now get his money.
Thank you, Martin.
Each and every time I talked to Western Union, I believed them. Felt relief. Went away happy and serene.
And this time ... it worked. But I didn’t know this yet. Because I couldn’t reach John.
But ...
GOOD LUCK! Mark called just then and said he was going to Long Beach anyway and he could stop at Hollywood and Vine and give John his phone there and ...
GOOD LUCK! I called John on his house phone and he was at home and I told him the news.
And GOOD LUCK! John went to a different Western Union and the very, very, VERY nice Swami Guy, gave John the money.
Off to dinner! Larry, Helen and I went in my car, after Larry had swept out the dirt clods on the seat that Diego the Dog had left there one rainy, muddy day.
Dinner was lovely. Another martini, a beautiful sunset over the lake, some good conversation. And a phone call from John saying everything was good. All was right with the world.
What a day. Seven full hours of phone time ... but a happy ending.
Epilogue ...
This morning I called Western Union (I just CAN’T get enough) to rat out the miserable excuse for a human being at the Quik Stop Liquor Store. I could excuse, forgive, let go of Angry Man’s bad humor. I’m sure I was waaaaaay more than a bother, but to tell me that he would NOT, under ANY circumstances, give John his money, no matter WHAT!!! Well, THAT was NOT OK.
And I needed to tell Western Union that they had a technical problem with checking the BOX.
That’s just the kinda person I am. Setting things right. Uh HUH! “If you’re not a part of the solution then you’re a part of the problem.”
I waited through the recordings and eventually a guy named Diego answered. I told him “Diego” was one of my favorite names and that my dog was named Diego.
He laughed. His voice was gentle and friendly. He had a slight L.A.-Latino accent.
We got to talking. (You know me.) I told him he sounded like he was from L.A. and he told me he was in Mexico City, but that he grew up in Highland Park. And that he lived on 62nd Avenue when he was a boy. And did I know the high school there? And he now lived in Mexico City.
Aha! All those lovely L.A.-Latino accented, friendly voices ... were ALL from L.A. and had jobs in Mexico City with Western Union, talking to us folks here in the U.S. They had the PERFECT background to handle the job.
Then he told me he liked his job.
It was great pay.
He said it gently, with a smile in his voice.
donna@fourstory.org
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