Well, we’re back home again. The Dr. is off on Wednesday, so no paperwork was processed. We’ll try again tomorrow.

Shawn and I are sitting in a La Quinta hotel room waiting for the head to tell the foot where to go next.

When he was put on disability the lady at HR said that all he had to do was fax in the release from the Dr. and he’d be good to go. We should have known better.

When we arrived in Fontana we faxed off the release. Then we waited. While we waited we swatted flies and ate our lunch.

The guy who assigns trucks came back from wherever he had been and told Shawn he needed to call the HR lady and find out if he had to have a drug screen before he could assign him to a truck. He still had a truck for him in San Leandro, but he can’t assign it to him officially yet.

Of course, by this time it’s 4 pm Omaha time and the HR lady isn’t answering her phone. It just goes to voice mail over and over and over again. Shawn left at least three messages. You’d think that she would have called us back this morning when she got in, but no, of course not, us sitting here isn’t important. She has better things to do than return phone calls from people who can’t do their job until she does hers.

So here we sit, back at the hotel room, waiting for the Dr.’s office to open. They’ve been faxed three copies of the “approved” release form to two different fax numbers.

What this means for me is that I have to sit here in the hotel room and drink hotel room coffee when there’s a Starbucks within sniffing distance. Sometimes life just isn’t fair.