STEP INTO THE WILD
Lost—even on the way to work!
Chapter One
For most of my life, I have had to travel for work—even up to 200 km each way, when we lived in Manitowaning and I managed a store in Elliot Lake. That lasted until we moved to Massey. A few years after that, I joined Loblaws as a Relief Pharmacist and was also a Pharmacist Coach. I would travel to stores all over Ontario to work with young pharmacists who were having trouble managing the flow in their stores. It was a challenging, but rewarding job to help these very earnest professionals to solve their various dilemmas. During the years that I worked in this capacity, I travelled to areas that I had never been to before. Knowing that I have no directional gene in my body, as demonstrated by my previous Lost stories, I’m sure that you can imagine the fear that I had in having to find my way to all these strange places?
My boss at the time was a very practical lady and she told me to “chill out, Lynn.” She reached into her bag and hauled out a neat little device- A plug-in GPS machine. (That was way back in the days before satellite GPS systems installed in every car or maps in every phone. This gadget simply plugged into the cigarette lighter).
My face lit up, as I gazed in wonder at this wonderful device. “Perfect, now it doesn’t matter that I don’t have the GPS gene in my head.” I grinned as I plugged it in.
Chapter two
Armed with my wonderful new device, I headed to my first assignment—a store located in Carleton Place (near Ottawa). On a bright sunny day, I sat in my car—punched in Ottawa as my destination, and the miracle machine said, “Proceed to the Route,” in a high-pitched female voice, (why does it always have to be an abnoxious female voice?).
“Hey,” I replied. “You haven’t told me where to go, yet, so how can I proceed?” I pressed the ‘search’ button and a route appeared on the screen and again she said, “Proceed to the route.”
I rolled my eyes, then focused them on the screen which indicated that I was to head East on highway 17, so I headed off, but not exactly where the screen showed me to go. I needed to pop into my local store to pick up a few supplies for the road. My store was located south on highway six in Espanola. When I turned south, the little screen lit up with a big warning sign and the high-pitched female voice screamed, “Proceed to the route.”
“Look, Matilda (I had named the device), I have to make a brief stop a few kilometers down the road then I’ll proceed to the route.” (I stuck my tongue out…at a machine…very mature.)
This explanation did not satisfy her. At every side road along highway six, she yelled, “proceed …” and when I didn’t respond appropriately, she kept saying, “make a legal U-turn at the next light.”
“Ha, there is no such thing a s a legal U-turn, Matilda,” I answered, every time she told me to do that. Finally, I arrived at the Independent Grocer in Espanola and turned off the car. I sat staring at Matilda for a moment, trying to decide if all this nagging was worth it. I chewed my lip as I imagined trying to find my way without her help, eventually deciding that I would have to put up with it, but not until I got near to Ottawa. In some satisfaction, I unplugged her, grabbed my groceries and headed East towards Ottawa.
Chapter Three
The trip went very well until I reached North Bay. At this point the highway seemed a bit confusing to me and I didn’t want to take the wrong turn and end up in Cochrane or Toronto, so I plugged in Matilda again. I figured I might need her assistance from that point until I reached my destination, because I’d only travelled to Ottawa once before.
I fired up the gizmo, then typed in the address. It asked for the town first, which I entered as Carlton Place, then the street name and number. I plugged in all the data and pressed search. I had to wait a few minutes while she acquired the satellite, then the screen lit up, but not with the directions. She said, “No matches found.”
Reaching across the seat, I grabbed my notes and checked what I had entered. It matched exactly. “This is the correct address, Matilda,” I said, showing the paper to her. I pressed the search button again and got the same result. “Good grief, Matilda,” I asked in frustration, “what good are you, if you can’t even find a big place like Ottawa?” Now what was I going to do, the machine knew nothing, but when it came to directions, neither did I. “I have a schedule to keep, Matilda.” I glowered at the screen, checking my entry once again, then suddenly, I had an idea. Snapping my fingers, I said, “Aha, I bet Carlton Place is so small, that it’s listed under Ottawa instead.” Quickly I re-entered the address substituting Ottawa for Carlton Place. The screen immediately lit up and Matilda said, “Proceed to the Route.” I did, whistling a little tune—feeling confident that I had managed the situation very well. If I zoomed onward, I would be at the store just after lunch. “Perfect. Carlton Place here I come.
Chapter Four
According to Matilda, it was only fifteen minutes before I would reach my destination. I glanced at the surrounding countryside, admiring the beautiful fields filled with high stands of corn, almost ready for picking. It was a lovely time of the year to be travelling in the country. I must admit that I was a little surprised. I thought that this store would be in the centre of sizable town or suburb of Ottawa. Looking around me, it was clearly not the case. Usually these big box stores had substantial populations around them, but it seemed like this one must service the farming communities that I was passing. Suddenly, Matilda shouted, “turn right at the next road.”
I did, but after about two minutes the paved road turned into a somewhat muddy gravel road. “Hmm, I wonder if she took me this way to avoid a road closure or construction?” I kept driving, until her screen lit up again, this time with a flashing symbol which read, “You have arrived.” She squealed for me to turn left. She was glowing—all excited to have accomplished her task.
I slowed down, looking to my left. There was no road, just a green ‘911’ sign with a number on it, marking an even rougher trail to the left. My eyes searched all around, scanning for the ‘big box store’, but there were only tall corn stands corn as far as I could see. Scooping up Matilda, I checked her screen. Yep, the address matched, but clearly this was not the right spot. Glancing at my match, I sighed. It was one pm. I was supposed to be there by noon. In all my years as a pharmacist, I had never been late for work. Not that it mattered when I arrived, since I was only there to coach, but it did reflect upon my integrity and reliability. I slumped forward in my seat, whispering a quick prayer, “Where am I?” As you know, the good Lord, has heard that prayer from my lips many, many times.
Chapter Five
I slumped against the steering wheel, glancing anxiously at my watch. I decided to call my boss, to tell her that I’d been given the wrong address and to get the phone number of the store. When I finally reached her, she asked where I was. “I’m in the middle of a country road in Ottawa, surrounded by fields of corn. That GPS you gave me just told me that I had arrived.”
She laughed, replying that the store was in the middle of a built-up area of Carlton Place. She said nothing for a moment or two, then asked, “Did you say that you entered Ottawa as part of the address?”
“Yep, I did, because it didn’t recognize Carlton Place.”
“That’s odd, since it is a major centre,” she replied.
“Well, I tried it several times and it kept telling me that there was no match found.”
Silence crackled through the airway for a moment or two. Then she said, “How did you spell Carlton Place?”
I spelled it for her, but had a sinking feeling in my gut. “C-a-r-l-t-o-n P-l-a-c-e.”
She started laughing. When she finally stopped, she said that I had a spelling problem. “Carlton Place is spelt, C-a-r-l-e-t-o-n Place.”
“Oh,” I replied, feeling very foolish. “I’ll try that.” I pressed in the address, with this spelling and the screen lit up. I bet you know what Matilda said?
“Proceed to the route.” A red hue surged up my face, as I told her to let them know that I’d be there in forty-five minutes. She was still laughing as she hung up the phone.
“So, Matilda, how come you can’t spell?” I mumbled as I headed off in flurry of gravel and dust.
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