Workshop Floor Visible Again

I had a productive day.

The first productive thing I did was to close a Miami bank account I had been keeping open because of my dad’s estate. I had to close it because they refused to cancel a recurring transfer I set up a long time ago.

I had a house sitter, and he was being paid. I sold the house. The bank has a fairly primitive website, and for some reason, it did not permit me to cancel further transfers. I contacted the bank via secure email, and they were not helpful at all, advising me to contact Popmoney, the company that actually does the transfers. The responses I got were insulting to my intelligence and somewhat condescending. The lady I was corresponding with kept marking my problem “resolved” even though she hadn’t done anything except misunderstand me and give me useless advice.

I contacted Popmoney, and guess what they did? They connected me to the bank’s Internet department, where I got a guy who sincerely tried to cancel the transfers. Popmoney was more helpful than the people who actually work at the bank. Then I went out of town, came back, and found that the bank was emailing me to tell me another transfer was about to take place.

I went to their site and tried to move all of the money in the account to an account at another bank, but they have a $1500 daily limit, so that was out. Also, they don’t transfer money immediately, so I figured the transfer would go through before the account was emptied, and then I would have an overdraft when the final transfer to my other account went through.

I called them on the phone and told them to close the account. Suddenly, getting rid of the unwanted transfers was no problem. They did it right away. It was too late, though. I didn’t want to have to deal with them any more.

The lady on the phone asked me several intrusive security questions to establish my identity, and I answered all of them correctly. Then she told me I had answered them wrong, and she could not close the account over the phone. She said I was not allowed to try again. She said I would have to send a notarized letter directing them to close the account. I asked her to email me the address to send it to, along with whatever content the letter required. She said she could not email me.

I really try not to get angry at anyone these days, but I finally snapped. I asked her if the bank was living in the 19th century. I said I was sitting at the computer looking at an email from the bank, which seemed to prove the bank could, in fact, email me. They emailed me when they made the unwanted transfers. That was no problem at all.

I got off the phone, drafted a remarkably terse letter, went to my bank, which is a real bank, got the letter notarized, and dropped it off at the post office on the way home. Will it work? There is no way to know with these people.

I received another email from the bank, saying the transfers had been canceled. Okay.

I don’t want anger and unforgiveness in me, so I prayed and so on. I wonder what’s going to happen. It would be neat if they actually closed the account instead of doing more crazy things.

It’s funny; the people I dealt with at the local branch were great. It’s just the phone and Internet people who can’t get it together.

Miami is like a bad smell that won’t go away. I am still receiving emails from a city inspector over a code warning on the house I just sold. Today I had to send her a copy of the new deed to prove I’m not the owner. I’m not sure what the code people are thinking. They already knew I was selling the house, and you can’t fine someone for a code violation on a house he does not own. It wouldn’t help to put a lien on the house. It would land on the new owner.

With all that behind me, I finally got some time to work on the workshop. I moved my machine tools here three weeks ago, and the shop was still a mess this morning. I could barely walk across it. Things were piled everywhere. My main welding table was buried. Something had to be done, but the sale of the house, the holidays, and my trip to North Carolina got in the way.

Before the move, I drew up a diagram of my idea for arranging the shop, and I took a photo for my cell phone. Today I pulled up the photo and used it as a guide. I put my tool cabinets along the wall. I put the welding stuff in a corner past the machine tools. I put my belt grinders beside the mill. I put casters on my welding table. I even added a tiny remote switch to my phase converter so I wouldn’t have to plug it in every time I wanted to use a machine tool.

The shop is still not together, but it’s amazing how much better it is after a couple of hours’ work. I have a big area with my tool cabinets and most of my power tools for metal facing inward. I can see the floor. My welding table and main welder (God bless Harbor Freight) are next to each other in a convenient location. Everything except my big compressor is plugged in, and I can run a cord to the compressor if I need to use it before I run wiring to it.

I have much more room than I thought, so I’m very happy. I could even fit a surface grinder in there.

NO! I won’t think about that. I won’t.

I’ll try not to.

This is wonderful. I may actually be able to make some things now. I still have to finish my arbor press stand and the shop’s wiring, and I need to level the lathe, but I can work on projects before I get all that done.

It’s great knowing I’ll never have to worry about problems with a house in Miami again. Houses are much more stressful to own than other types of properties. I no longer have to think about problems with termites, mold, hurricane damage, vandalism, or burglary. I don’t have to pray trespassers don’t drown in the pool or trip in the yard. It’s a beautiful change. I’m hoping I’ll be able to think about the workshop and my other interests and obligations now.

I should weld something tomorrow just because I can.

I should have almost 5 months of acceptable workshop weather in front of me. I don’t know what I’ll do after that. It will get really hot in June. Perhaps a drywall ceiling and unit air conditioner are in order.