Having it out with Reggie the GPS

Let's get it out of the way right from the get-go:
yes, I have lived and driven in Salem since 10/91,
and yes, I do (usually) use a GPS to go to locations I've never visited before.
Some of us are born with a compass in our brain and some of us flounder.
I'm of the latter, fishy variety.


I had a brainstorm this morning after once again overheating our shredder.  One of the Salemites had mentioned taking papers to Garten Industries to be shredded.

"Aha! That's what I'll do today!", and I began to think it through. "Well, if I'm going, I better make it worthwhile.". So, I dove into our hoard of documents saved since 1992, emptying folder after folder, until I'd filled one huge paper bag and one regular grocery bag. So much dust! "Sudafed, where is the Sudafed?!"

I looked up their address online. "I've been on Industrial Way, before. No problem!" You guessed it, I didn't bother entering the address into Reggie the GPS. I traveled to and I traveled fro. I found a place to pull over, so I could double check the address on my phone. "Yup, 3334 Industrial." And once again, I traveled to and fro. Nothing. (sigh)

I pulled over again and entered the address into Reggie the GPS. I have no idea what went wrong, but when I found myself close to Riverfront Park (yes, I AM slow) I realized that Reggie was taking me home. WTH?!
That's right, I pulled over again. "Reggie, listen carefully. This is where you need to take me."

Even though his directions sounded suspect, I followed them. (Except that one time. I was positive he said left. Stupid Reggie or stupid me?) "Proceed North on Broadway. Turn right on Highland . . ."  I was sure he was taking me to a vacant lot, but there it was--Garten Industries. I parked and toted those heavy bags around the side of the building to the visitor's entrance. I was immediately concerned when I saw the expression on the woman's face at the office window. (you're right, I've been called over sensitive.)
"Yes, we do have on site shredding. Go around this building, through the gate to the loading area and then ring the bell at the man door."
Man door? (sigh)
I did as I was told, rang the doorbell, waited, followed the young man, was led back to that office, paid my $10 and left--probably somewhere in the vicinity of 30 pounds lighter.

Better signage would be nice, but I'm here to tell you it can be done. And, dog-gone-it, it feels good to have all those papers gone.