Can’t you just convince yourself that in the intervening years you’ve gained wisdom about and compassion for the peccadilloes of others?
That way you get what you want, AND come out smelling like a rose!
Okay, Dr. F., this is officially it.
I got the bone density test last month, like you wanted. I bust my ass to make today’s appointment. I get there late, only to be told no apology necessary – you weren’t back from your rotation at St. Blah’s yet.
Well, you didn’t keep me too long in your waiting room, at least. But while I was waiting, your receptionist asked me where I’d had the bone density test done, and I told her, wondering why this was a question now when you/your crew has had almost a month to put that info in my file.
So I get into the exam room, and almost the first thing you say is, “You didn’t get your bone density test.”
“…I did too.”
“Where did you have it done? St. Blah’s or Clinica Medica?”
“Clinica Medica.”
“They have no record of it.”
“…”
“Call them again; perhaps they spelled your name wrong.”
Um, excuse me, but wouldn’t that be your receptionist’s responsibility, to say “Check under Rilchaim instead of Rilchiam. Or try her social”?
And yes, I’m glad I don’t have to come back until my next half-yearly checkup. Except, I’m not sure, then, why it was so crucial to get the bone density test done before today’s appt. And then I had to go downstairs to get blood drawn, which is no big deal except, I also don’t understand why last time, I had to go back to Clinica Medica, because you “didn’t have the results” that time either.
Anyway, I am damned if I’m racking up another procedure on my health insurance. I took the test, someone should have the record, and if they don’t, that ain’t my fault. It may be Clinica Medica as well as you, but they don’t have a history of jerking me around like you/your crew. I don’t know if it’s your idea or your boss’s idea to spread you thinner than Genoa salami, but I now plan to lighten your burden by one patient.
I went to my doctor and waited an hour and a half because they had to have me come in for my test results. The results - everything normal. I want my hour and a half back. I hire out at $35 an hour; I’m tempted to bill them for $50.
I need mini-rants. I need mini-rants but good.
O Cat Orson, do not yowl as if you are trapped in a well, dammit! I’M RIGHT HERE. There are tender nibbles in the bowl! Aiieee!
Dearest husband, forgive me if I don’t understand why you need to buy a whole new wardrobe to go to a wedding for a person you’ve never met who happens to be related to a friend of a friend while you couldn’t be bothered to go to my brother’s wedding.
Loving neighbors, I heard that goddamn truck in your backyard and I know that the only way that goddamn truck can get into your backyard is by going through my backyard. Again.
I really don’t know the whole story, but do you think you might be sticking your nose too far into your friends’ personal decisions?
Might also be that her friends are too needy, and badger and badger her for “advice” they don’t take, and then get huffy with her about it. BT, DT.
Or it could be what you said, of course.
In this somewhat dated government building, I have personally pushed the elevator button, watched it light up, watched the door close, watched the light go off, the door open back up, and the elevator remain quiescent. This has happened on several separate occasions.
I’ve also pressed it apparently insufficiently firmly and had it fail to activate at all.
So excuse me while I jam it several times, which always works.
Sailboat
Fellow participants in Potlucks:
It is OK, even Encouraged, for you to eat the last three bites of salad/veggie pizza/etc. out of someone’s container. It is profoundly irritating as the bringer of an item to find that most of it vanished in a fairly short amount of time, but the last three pieces will sit there until kingdom come.
(Actually, I got rid of two of the three to people who were curious what I’d brought and collected a couple of requests for recipes in the process. But I’m still peeved).
This is kind of old, but I never seem to get to post it whenever the mini-rants thread comes around.
A hearty fuck you to people who think everyone who works in a library is a volunteer. It happens all the time, someone makes an offhanded comment about “where do you really work?” or “how many hours do you help out around here?” or “it’s so nice to see a young man give back to the community,” etc.
But the all-time winner is a girl who comes in fairly regularly, about once every week or two, who is otherwise very pleasant. She’s one of those patrons that you like seeing because you know they’re not a demanding ass hole.
She always comes in around the same time, a time when I am always scheduled to work the checkout counter because, again, this is my job and that’s how my schedule is set up. So invariably, I always help her.
So one day she comes in at the same time she always does and I help her. “You’re always here when I’m here!” she shrieks in that I-think-you’re-stalking-me voice I’ve heard some women use. I reply “Are you going to pay my rent?” She tells me no and I tell her “Well that’s why I’m always here, this is my job.” I give her her receipt and she leaves without saying another word.
She’s still pleasant, but damn, what a stupid thing to say.
She was probably flirting with you. If so, forget about her being pleasant from now on. In fact, you come off as a dick in that. Unless you wanted to discourage her, in which case, yay you.
First, Squink, your advice is good. We’ll see what I can do.
fetus, it’s possible, but it’s not like I’m DOING anything other than receiving information. The decision in question is the kind of decision that hurts a third party, and the first time around the hurt party was my best friend, so I was pretty legitimately involved in that one.
Rilchiam, while there’s no badgering, I am being told all of the dirty details. I am replying mostly with sympathetic noises. Over the past year, I’ve gotten very good at making sympathetic ‘ohhhs’ and saying ‘I’m sorry’ in response to my friends bitching about each other. Non-commitalness is key.
Ok, awning company, you send an e-mail saying you don’t recommend WD40 for use on the frame if it sticks. You recommend silicone spray. Why in the name of God’s Glowing Gonads don’t you put that on your fucking useless instruction sheet? The frame that is supposed to be “Easy-Up” was stuck together so tightly I thought there was an improper weld. After a bath in WD40 it operated the way it was designed to. If you want your clients to know what you recommend when your product doesn’t operate as advertised, fucking tell them! Now I have to worry that I have permanently damaged the frame.
I come off as a dick? Because I’m tired of people making offhanded comments about my “real job”? And for the record, I don’t think she was flirting with me, and if she was, shrieking like I’m an axe murderer is not the best way to let a guy know you like him.
Is she one of the ones who asked about your “real job” before?
I’ll go with Rilchiam on this one. I think she was mildly flirting with you.
No, never.
And I really didn’t get the flirting vibe.
EDIT: But if she was, can I pit her for being a poor flirt? She sounded genuinely scared that I was always there when she was.
Then, flirting or not, it doesn’t sound like she was trying to put you down.
EDIT: You were there and I wasn’t. Edit again: Eh, that was harsh. Still, unless every head turned and security started edging towards you, I think you were out of line in your response.
Yeah, maybe. I guess the fact that she does come in all the time and is pleasant is what got to me.
Most of the other ass holes that do it I never see again or they’re clueless old ladies who should know better, but for some reason don’t.
Ah, probably not. It’s just that WD40isn’t really a good lubricant. It is a solvent, so it is possible that it could damage certain paints or plastics, but more likely, it’s just that a silicone lubricant would do a more lasting job.
To various members of the Gross Scuzz community:
The subway is not your bathroom.
Stop cutting your fucking fingernails while availing yourself of our city’s fine public transportation system.