HOUSE OF MEADOW
Sopranos Fan Fiction
A NEW BLUEPRINT
By Sopranos Blueprint
Meadow's New Blueprint
I get in the car and call my brother, A.J., right away. Time is of the essence.
“Hey, I need a new place to set up shop. Just a room to do my work with some privacy and an address to put for the New Jersey Bar. What’s in it for you? Let’s see. Next time you do something stupid, I’ll help get your ass out of trouble.”
Time for My Next Therapy Appointment
My response is rather short. “Fine. Back at work.”
The doctor asks, “Oh, you’ve opened up your own office already?”
Well, it’s more like a shared workspace.
“So, have you started working on any new cases yet?”
Theft, actually.
A.J. Soprano Presses the Wrong Digit
“My brother, A.J., found this chair online on Facebook Marketplace that he wanted to buy. But when he sent the guy the money on Zelle for the chair, he realized he’d accidentally sent it to the wrong number. So, A.J. called the number right away, and guess what happened when he called?
The guy hung up and blocked his number.
The doctor asks, “So what happened next?”
They asked me for help.
I called his bank and patiently explained to them the whole situation.
You know what they said?
“You should ask the person to send it back.”
When I told the customer service representative that we tried that to no avail, she said, “You should try reaching out again.”
Lots of help they were (not).
Never Underestimate One's Inability to Keep Their Mouth Shut
So just for sh*ts and giggles, we had our friend, Brad, call the number.
When he did, the guy actually had the balls to answer. I don’t know if it was just sheer luck or what, but the guy that answered thought that Brad was his friend on his way to his apartment.
“Yo, bro, where are you? You downstairs?”
When I saw that Brad was about to respond, I quickly grabbed his phone.
Wait! You need to figure out where he is.
Ask him to remind you what street his building’s on or something, but do it in a way that doesn’t make it obvious that you’re a random stranger.
Hey, bro, my GPS is frozen or some [Â __Â ]. What street is your building on, again? Bingo!
“So, then Brad went to this guy’s place?”
“Oh, no, not him. He had to work. We had another mutual friend stop by.”
“And how did it all end?”
“The guy sent the money back. Apparently, it was all a big misunderstanding. Sometimes, things can get lost in translation on the phone, so that’s why we figured it was easier to just talk face to face. What? It’s not our fault that he didn’t have good cell service and couldn’t understand what we were asking. We actually were nice. We went to him! We should have made him come to us.
“So, a friend of a friend went to this guy’s apartment?”
“Mhmmm.”
“So, did you have to do any legal work for this case?”
“Well, the bank had suggested that we file a police report, but this took care of it much quicker, don’t you think?”
Poverty of the Mezzogiorno
This conversation with the doctor brought me back to one I’d had many years ago with an ex-boyfriend.
I may have been exaggerating a bit with the whole poverty of the Mezzogiorno thing, but when you think about it, was I? Look at this case right here. Going through the proper legal channels would have resulted in most likely never getting the money back, or if anything, getting it like months down the line.
I remember the first time I went through the legal channels. The charges eventually were dropped because of the victim’s lack of cooperation with the prosecution.
Haven’t you ever felt that way that our justice system was just one big Injustice system?
What I didn’t know at the time was just how much my doctor knew about the holes in the justice system. But most therapists don’t tell their patients about their most traumatic memories, and ethically and legally they can’t tell their current patients about former patients they’ve treated.
But you know what they say: Nothing gets by you. So, we’ll see. Stay tuned.
