Haven't had my eyes checked in years. Opportunities have finally given me reason to get them examined. Got them checked New Year's Eve in case insurance wouldn't allow me to get this paid for in 2010.
When I went into LensCrafters I was run through their battery of tests. When I reached the back and the end of my journey, the doctor on call went through my tests. He was young and, more importantly, a very engaged fellow. He wasn't condescending, yet he spoke in complete, thoughtful and informative sentences. The most poised professional I've seen in a long time.
He recommended that I get a full map thingy of the inside of my eye. He said dilation works, but I'd have to undergo what would be a four-hour ordeal and I'd have to driven home. Or, he slyly says, there's this new-fangled machine called an Optomap. A laser spreads across your eyeball and it prints out a colorful map of the inside to see if there are cataracts or anything. In the back of my mind I know it's a waste, and at $35 I really don't think it's necessary. But I have to admit, I was so ... um, charmed by this guy that I decided to reward his courtesy by undergoing this ultimately superfluous upcharge, although at a later date.
Said date was last week. The nurse or helper or whatever took me to the anteroom where I got all the preliminary tests the last time that are so easy that the nurse can do them. I stepped in front of the Optomap machine. And I noticed that it looks like the same thing I did the last time I was here. Hey, does that mean I already have an Optomap?
This hemming and hawing is a way for me to deal with my extreme uncertainty over things I'm not familiar with. Also, this hedging had a lot to do with the fact that I'm spending money, and as y'all know, I still don't have a job. But the questions I verbalized may have been too much for the chick who was taking these tests for me; after indulging me my queries and even answering a couple, she just verbally forced me to stick my eye in front of the black hole so it could "map" my perfect eyeball.
And it was perfect, like I thought -- I should trust my intuition more. The doctor came into the back room that was only partially lit. I told him that the Optomap felt familiar from the last time I was there; he told me that the images weren't good the last time, so that's why I had to do it again. Nice save, Doc; I don't believe it for a second. Instead, I have a feeling the nurse who "helped" me bitched about me and my questions to you, and you made up a lie just so to have an excuse. I mean, why would you just accept bad images the first time I came in?
But whatever -- I accepted any potential risk of being ripped off because you presented yourself well. That and your demeanor. And, well, your easy blue eyes too. I can say that, right? Thanks for letting me know there ain't a damn thing wrong with my eyeballs. I should've trusted my gut, but I'm a hopeless wreck who needs someone in authority to assuage and confirm my hunches. So, thank you. You will get $35 for this computer scan, and in exchange I won't have this done again for, oh, the rest of my life.
I just wanted to reach out, one more time, to the bitch nurse who helped me. I'm sure she found me difficult, but since I have to give her my check I'm also going to give her one last chance to be civil to me. Just after handing my hard-earned money over, I said: "Oh, by the way, I'm sorry about all my questions back there."
And she, without missing a beat nor really looking at me, said, "That's fine." That's fine. The completely vague, utterly nonsensical phrase one spits out when dismissing as irrelevant to your life any concern a person expresses about his own incivility or fussiness. The way this cunt said those two words told me not that she forgave my behavior or even forgot it because it was unimportant -- she didn't give a shit about me or the little time I shared with her at all. Nothing about me was important to her, the bad nor the good. I was just a person checking out.
Well, fuck you. I had a sneaking suspicion that while I was meeting the doctor you were out at reception bitching to your co-worker about me -- "This guy was all, 'Oh, I thought I already took this test,' and I'm all, 'Just shut the fuck up!' Gook ..." Your "friend" was acting the same way to you about another client she was talking to, so don't tell me you keep it professonal. You two fucking work at the mall, for fuck's sake! I know you -- you're the type of girl who only sees her job as a paycheck and wants the day to be over with and doesn't give a fuck about being friendly to customers because they're just another obstacle to overcome to get to the end of your day. You also probably like country music and think the country would be a lot better off if we immigrants weren't around jibber-jabbering in languages besides English. Fuck you in the ass. I'm trying to figure out why I'm letting your bitch ass rip me off for $35, the least you could do as not act like I'm ruining your day, because I'm not. Bitch.
No comments:
Post a Comment