high-five for chick car maintenance…

Today, I walked out to my car to leave work and realized very quickly that I had left my overhead light on all day. I’ve left it on before with no real damage, but today was just my lucky day. My battery was dead. Awesome. It was a little after 5:00pm and damn near everyone was gone. Super awesome.

I called one of my bosses and he was headed back to the office but was stuck in traffic and wouldn’t be back for at least 30-minutes due to rush hour traffic. Positive note, he did say he had jumper cables. But good lord, 30-minutes was going to be the best case scenario. So I called my brother to see if he had made it too far away to circle back to jump my car. No luck. He had made it all the way home to Plano by the time I got him on the phone; which was pointless because by the time he made it back to the office, my boss would have likely made it back to me by then and my car would have been started. Great. I’m stuck. He suggested that I call one of the guys that works in our office and was likely still at work to see if he had some jumper cables and could help me out. He was, in fact, still at the office but he didn’t have any jumper cables. I was pretty sure I had some cables. Yeah, it ended up that I did not. Is it all that surprising that surprising that it was yet another dead end?

By this point, I had gotten out of my car and was standing next to it. I had called my brother back to tell him that the guy at the office didn’t have any cables and to see if he had the number of some guys we knew from another company in our building. He didn’t, of course. But it was right at about that moment that a gal that works in my office pulled up with her window down looking like she wanted to say something to me. So I call out to her before she can say anything to her and I ask if she has jumper cables. SCORE, she totally did!

I tell her that I left my overhead light on and my battery was dead. Then I ask if she minded giving me a jump and she totally came to my rescue! So she pulls up to the level that I am stuck on and gets in a good position to jump my car. She grabbed the jumper cables and walked over to me and say – ok, so you know how to do this right? And this is where things turned into completely 2 chicks about to engage in some car maintenance work that neither of us knew what the hell we were about to doing.

I pop open my hood. Now, I knew from the last time I had some “car maintenance” that the hood doesn’t just pop open. There’s a secondary latch that you have to reach under the hood and release. Yeah, I totally looked like I knew what I was doing during that part of this process from the 45-minutes it took me the last time I had to get that damned hood open. But that’s neither here nor there. Once I got the hood open, I immediately returned to the moronic category. So I have the little hood holder thing unattached and then I could not, for the life of me, determine where the hell it hooked into the hood. Sigh. It became obvious why that every time I take my car to the shop, I get the “little lady” tone.

Which quick aside… so I have a 2008 Honda Civic and everything on the dash is all digital – the gas read, the speed, the cool/heat of the car, etc. I was driving on the highway one day and looked down to notice that my speedometer was reading WAY off. It was saying I was going like 170. I was perplexed and confused. Then I slightly panicked because I always speed everywhere and I had no idea how fast I was really going. So after a day or 2 of the speedometer acting up, I was like – that’s it, I’m taking it to Honda and they are going to have to fix this ASAP. So, yeah… I pull in and tell the guy the story and he reaches in and says, well it looks like you have KPH selected as opposed to MPH, which should solve this problem right up. Sweet baby Moses! I actually said the phrase – well I feel dumb and I’m pretty sure I just confirmed that women shouldn’t have cars. To which this dude responds with – yeah, well at least we agree on that. WTF dude? I mean, I said it but it just seemed rude when he agreed without skipping a beat. I mean, who the hell knew that you could change the friggin speedometer to KPH? Ok, I’m sure everyone but me knew this. Whatever. I’m stupid. Fine.

Another quick aside… My AC was acting up and it wasn’t getting cool for some strange reason. I drove it around for a couple of days but the summer heat was completely winning that little showdown. So, after a couple of days, I drive my car to Honda. Yet again, I tell the service attendant guy my AC issue and then he reached across me and hit the AC button. Like magic, the AC got super cold. Well awesome. I’m an idiot; a chick who apparently shouldn’t own a car. I got the “little lady” tone from that dude too, but I didn’t say too much in my defense. Pretty sure I lost my ability to argue that chicks are car retarded in that moment.

Ok, so back to jumping my car. So after it took me 5-minutes to locate the spot where the little arm thing that holds up the hood went in, we’re standing there looking at the cables splayed out on the parking garage floor. She says to me – I’m assuming you know how to do this, right? Uh… no-ish, but how hard could it be, right? So I said – well the cables are black and red and the battery has a red spot and a black spot… so I’m guessing that isn’t a coincidence? Now, I was not saying that in a patronizing tone, I was almost looking for some affirmation as to if she agreed with my assessment. She did. Awesome. We’re moving right along.

So out of nowhere, she says – I’m pretty sure that I heard somewhere that you have to put the cables on in a certain order, right? Me – Uh, well I don’t know, but that sounds like it could be true. Her – I think it’s black then red. Me – Are you sure? What if it’s red then black? What happens if you do it in the wrong order? I mean, the car doesn’t blow up or something, does it? Her – Uh, well I don’t think so, but I really don’t know. I’m thinking I heard it’s black then red. Me – Do you even think that putting them on in the wrong order would make the car blow up? Or maybe catch on fire? Her – I have no idea. There was 30-seconds of silence coupled with both of us, hands-on-hips, staring at the cables like they were going to magically talk to us and tell us what the hell we were supposed to be doing. Me – Uh, so you think I should maybe Google it and see what it says? Her – Yeah actually, that would be an excellent idea.

So I’m trying to Google what the hell we were supposed to be doing and before the page could come up for Yahoo! Answers to load and she says – You think I should turn my car off before we start to hook this all up. Me – Uh, yeah… that sounds like it could be a good idea. I mean, I think that you start the jumping process with both cars off, right? Her – Uh, yeah… sounds good to me. Which, if the car is off, then maybe it doesn’t matter which one we put on first; red or black. Me – Dude, that sounds exactly like what we should be doing. Brilliant idea. So I close out the internet on my phone and walk around to start hooking up the cables to my cars battery. She was working on getting her side of the cables hooked up to her battery.

Me – So, I guess you’re supposed to fire up your engine and then I will give mine a shot, right? Her – Sounds like the right idea. She pops the key into the ignition and fires her car up. I waited about 20-seconds and I turn my key, wincing a little because the whole question of hooking the cables up in the right order and car explosions / fires had me a little nervous. I mean, we were making some car maintenance calls without any real foundational knowledge. Instead my car fired right up. The hum was music to my ears! So I’m sitting there staring at her thinking – Uh, ok… so what’s next? She says – Let’s let it sit for a couple of minutes to make sure yours is juiced up enough. Me – Yeah, that sounds like a great idea and is probably exactly what we should be doing.

A few minutes pass and she says – I think you should probably be good now. I agreed. But that whole thing about the order in which the cables were supposed to potentially go on popped back into my head and I said – So, now that both cars are running, do you think that there really is a particular order in which the cables need to be removed? Her – Yeah, good point. I don’t know. Me – we’ll let me pull them off my car first and see what happens. And since you thought it was black then red, I’m just gonna take a stab that if there is an order, it would likely be the same, right… black then red. Her – Sounds good to me. The blind leading the blind.

So we’re both hovering over the front of my car looking at the battery. I’m hesitant because it’s my car and thoughts of flames and explosions came running back through my head. She’s standing over it observing how badly I might potentially screw up my car so she can do the opposite when removing the cables from her car. So I say – Well here goes nothing. I pull the black clamp off and nothing happened. I grabbed the red clamp and removed it. Nothing happened. So I looked at her and said – We have success! She says – Yes we do! We both smiled like we’d accomplished something really amazing. After a good few seconds of us both standing there amazed by the fact that we, 2 chicks that knew zero about what we were doing, got a car started, she said – Well, I’m going to get unhooked and head out. Me – Dude, thanks a million for helping me out! Her – Yeah, I drove by and you caught my eye standing next to your car. It looked like you might’ve needed some help. Me – I’m totally glad you did stop because I was going to have to wait 30-minutes or more for Greg to get back and help me. Her – No worries! You’re welcome. Me – So, my car will turn on tomorrow you think, right? Her – Uh, I think once you drive it a bit, the battery will become recharged. Me – Sweet! Sounds good to me!

So I say – High-five for chick car maintenance. And that was that.

I realize that this wasn’t an event in any capacity that should leave a person with a feeling of accomplishment, but damnit… I felt accomplished. I mean, in my head I compared it to the first person discovering fire and how accomplished and amazed they felt. Dramatic, yes. But c’mon… am I ever anything but?

PS – I am available any time if anyone has some car maintenance questions.

good old tommy tomster... always good for a giggle...

I found myself in a weird chance of events earlier this week. Which I realize is clearly hard for anyone to conceptualize that I found myself in a weird situation – but it’s true. I’m going to assume that pretty much everyone has had a boss (past or present) that they would classify as an epic fail. Personally, a few come to the top of my mind, but one in particular really stands out as the clear winner.

Some back story…
A few years ago, I worked for a company that was a small home-grown business. I was brought on to an already existing dysfunctional little family that was devoid of a person sitting in the management role. A manager from another division, which was not even in the same type of industry that our line of business was in, was managing our team in the interim of finding a permanent manager. I’d just like to point out that hiring a team backwards (i.e. build the team then find its manager), is really just a set up for a disastrous situation. Enter the next 2-years of my life.

Not too long after I had joined this particular company and they had finally hired on our divisions manager, the company was sold to another company that had a larger presence and was national. This was positive news to me, in that since our team was the only unique team in the whole company, if we could show great success with our line of business we could have easily expanded into opening up divisions nationally. The people who would ultimately carry that responsibility would have almost certainly come from the team that forged the road of success. I saw a great deal of endless possibilities and huge career opportunities. That being said, I had a very vested interest in making the team successful, cohesive and productive. This objective was ultimately perceived as me wanting my boss’s position. And to just drive that point home, I was personally told by my manger that the reason we didn’t get along and/or work together effectively was because he believed I was trying to replace him with myself.

Laughable.

Now, I am not particularly sure that any of you have had this kind of situation arise, but my personal experience was that if someone who is in a role of power / management is that insecure about their own capabilities that they believe that their subordinate could outshine them and more specifically actively and in a predatory manner threaten to take (or eliminate) their position, that subordinate’s life is destined to be a miserable existence. Check. Miserable, it was. But what was truly perplexing about this particular manager, he had really honed his manipulative skills and mastered them to a science. To meet him, even now, you would think he is a really smart, sharp, successful and talented person. Conversely, should you have to work under him, you find very quickly that he is cunning, manipulative, threatened, paranoid (to really obsessed about being paranoid), and malicious. He hides the 2-sides almost effortlessly. A talent that looking back on it, is about the only impressive thing about him.

For instance… He and I were trying to close a deal together. I’m not one to play good-cop / bad-cop, but this particular manager thought it was ideal. An ideal that I open rejected participating in; if he wanted to lie and manhandle his targets, that’s your deal and not mine. Anyhow, he was trying to pull some shady dealings with this particular deal and I made the comment that it’s rare that we have a client that really wants a candidate and a candidate that really wants a client and we can’t make it work because of the politics of it all. Now, I’m not particularly sure what it was that my boss heard from that statement, but he went from zero to belligerent in like 4.2 seconds.

He jumped up and headed to the front of our office, where the conference rooms were located, and proceeded to tell me that I needed to join him for a 1-on-1 meeting immediately. And maybe I am not conveying this effectively enough, but he was in the rafters – all up IN the damned rafters. Well, I said to hell with that, I’m not going in there and watching Mount Vesuvius explode. Pass. When I didn’t follow him into the conference room, he then decided to call my desk phone from the conference room phone. I hit ignore. He called it again. Ignore. Then I switched my phone to DND (do not disturb) where the next time he tried to call my desk, it would actually just go straight to voicemail. The next thing I hear is our team’s admin on the phone and I just knew it was him calling her since I was clearly ignoring him. She got up and came over and said – he wants you to get (we’ll call him) Bob (my boss’s boss) and join him in the conference room immediately.

Well, awesome.

So I get Bob and say that (we’ll call my boss) Tom wants to talk with you and me in the conference room and that I wasn’t sure what it was about. Now here’s where the impressive part of Tom would always, 100% of the time, make its debut appearance. He was leaned back in his chair looking cool, calm and collected. Not even so much of a hint of his disdain for whatever egregious error he had perceived that I had done was visible. I’ll give him credit for that much. Snake.

He starts out the conversation like this – so, Bob I called you in here because I wanted to get your opinion on something that just happened.

And I won’t lie. That was the last thing I that remember hearing him say. You know how in the movies things go quiet all around a person or the main character stays in complete focus but the background fades away and blurs out? Yeah, I was living that moment in a complete moment of livid rage. Now, I knew that Tom wanted me to react in just the way I was feeling in that moment. I am fairly certain my face was red, but I didn’t care. While Tom droned on about how I had done this and how I had done that, the ONLY thing I focused on while my ears were horrifically ringing was – keep your face straight, don’t talk, stay calm, don’t make any expressions, stay calm, don’t talk, don’t react, keep it together… And after what felt like a damned eternity and after I realized that Tom had completed his attempt at making me appear in a horrible light and they were both looking at me for my response is when I responded. Keep in mind I had no idea what Tom had actually said about me, but it was always the same 1-note show with him so it didn’t matter that I was mentally absent from listening to his drivel.

I collected myself enough to say – Well Bob, I’m not entirely sure what Tom is talking about here, to be honest. My only issue was that this situation tugged at my heartstrings a little. By that I mean, we have all the right players that are ready to take the next step, but because of the politics of it all, it’s just not going to happen no matter what we try and pull out to make it work. That was the only thing I had said about this situation, so I’m unclear as to what I am supposed to be saying here.

Bob looked from me to Tom and said – Well, if that’s the case, then I’m not sure why I am in here either Tom? Tom looked like he’d been hit by an unforeseen semi and I gave him a little smirk of a smile. I hope he got the whole – right back at you, you sorry excuse for a human being, because two can play at this little game. The meeting ended and for the next 2-weeks, I was in meeting after meeting with Tom about my attitude and negativity coupled with the all out barrage of petty outlandish lashing out that I endured in between these little scheduled meetings.

Tom is also the same guy who was trying to document how he was reprimanding me so he could make a case for my termination. Which, please. I must say that if he thought I didn’t know that little fact, then he was a complete idiot. I had decided that he’d have to fire me before I’d quite. The way that I envisioned that day playing out would be Tom pushing me out the front doors in my wheelie chair, because if you thought you could make me quit, well you got another thing coming! That being said, he was trying to email himself the rundown of one of our (what had become) daily attitude meetings, for documentation purposes. In that email, he had listed out the course of action that he planned to take if I did not meet this ridiculous list of crap that he had set out that was completely designed to fire me (i.e. unrealistic and subject measures of reprimanding me until it ultimately lead to my termination).

You might be asking me how I know about this email if he was emailing it to himself. Well, I’ll tell you. This moron tried to email it to himself from his work email and in the email line the beginning of his personal email and the tag that would send an email to the entire company were the same (by sheer coincidence). That being said, he ultimately emailed that little expose to the entire company instead of to his personal email. Sure, it pissed me off, but really that shit cracked me up at the end of the day. Mostly because it showed everyone what a massive douche he was. Hilarity, really. Wasn’t as hilarious when it was happening, but nonetheless, it is humorous now.

Anyhow, I lived in this abusive relationship for almost 2-years. These are just 2 examples of the friggin alphabetized mental file cabinet that I could easily pull from. I mean, this is the same guy who looked me dead in my face and told me that he would step in front of a bullet to protect his team and me personally. My response was – don’t you mean, step out of the way? Yeah, that little outburst made it to his documentation list. I only know because I saw that he had written it down on his to-do list to make sure my insubordinate behavior was documented properly. Yeah, eat me.

Anyhow, I say all of that to say this next part. It’s been almost 3-years since I last saw / worked for Tom. And then Tuesday of this week happened. I was at a meeting that was being hosted by 1 company and they had invited several other companies to attend. I was there talking to a guy I knew and worked with previously, when in walked Tom. I tried to side-step to be shielded by the wall, but no such luck. He spotted me. This guy was full-on open-mouthed toothy SUPER excited smiling coupled with frantically waving his hand ‘hi’ at me. I mean, you would have thought that I was his dad coming home from a 1-year tour in Iraq with how happy he looked to see me. Really, dude?

Well, damn.

I’m around like a boatload of professional people and am there representing my company, so instead of frantically waving my middle finger back at him, I did the what’s up nod and went back to the conversation I was having with my friend. As if that wasn’t enough to say we did our cordial ‘hello’ and move on, he came up to me while I was in line to get some lunch and did the whole placing 1-hand on my shoulder and saying – it’s really good to see you. The only thing I said back was – oh, looks like I am next in line – and walked out from under his hand and grabbed some food and moved on.

I mean, I think this guy has absolutely lost it. Delusional. What, in the name of all that is holy, would make this guy REMOTELY think I wanted to socialize with him in any capacity. I mean, for 2-years of your life, you actively and intentionally, tried to get me fired. That doesn’t make us chummy at events 3-years later. I mean, things like – take a handful of Zoloft dude and even your personality right out – were things that I refrained from saying. See, anyone who says I have not grown as a person can eat me. My little – don’t say everything you think – exercise in self-restraint I have been working on, really paid off. Well, I thought anyhow. Hey you can change the reaction, you can’t change how you think!

After all that happened, I just had to text one of the girls that I still talk to who worked for Tom and with me all those years ago. Tom had it out for her before he came after me. And she had it right, she just bailed out and moved on. Probably what I should have done, but no one was going to appreciate me telling her about Tom like she was. When I was texting her, it reminded me of a few other things Tom had done over the years that I feel awfully compelled to share.

After I had moved on to another job, and Tom’s division at my previous company had been eliminated (which FYI, this tends to happen when you cook the books; another story for another time), he reached out to me on LinkedIn. He left me a little gem of an email that ordinarily I would have ignored and not responded to, but damn… I just had to respond. At the company I was then working for, there was a Regional Manager position open. That Manager would be managing the team I was newly sitting on. Tom emails me and asks me if I will refer him into that role and then sent me his resume.

Ok, now – what?! Have you taken up smoking crack, or what?

So I replied with – So let me get this straight. You want me to refer you into a role that will ultimately have you managing me again?

Like on what planet do you do everything in your physical power to destroy a person and then ask for a favor? I mean, like I said… this guy is pretty damned impressive. Although I like to think that he’d run through all his “friends” and then found himself at the lowest point like… well I guess asking Angela wouldn’t be too bad, right? Enough time has passed, wouldn’t you think? But for him to have had even a remote hint of insight, that would require him to first admit that he’s a lunatic; a delusionally wrong lunatic. So, I’ll pretend that that’s what happened, but it’s highly likely that it did not.

Then after that little short but highly entertaining transaction, a couple years later I received another email from him on LinkedIn. I mean, because when you find a method that clearly works, you REALLY want to tap into it. Again, 100% delusional. This time, I was more willing to ignore and not reply to the email, but 2 seconds after I opened it and read it, the reply was written and sent before I even knew what happened.

He wrote me asking if he could list me as a professional reference.

Ok… LMAO! What?! Dude, really? This is bordering on intervention time. Something’s not right with you sweetie. Seriously. I generally don’t suggest meds as a solution, but damn if ever there is a case that I would advocate for someone taking a huge handful…

So I replied in numbered fashion, because I think that that method really drives the point right on home…

Tom,
1- I'm going to assume you sent this request to the wrong Angela.
2- Nonetheless, I would LOVE to serve as a professional reference for you. Please pass my contact info on to anyone who might need it.
3- I will only be as kind and generous as you were when you were providing all those glowing backdoor references on me, all those years ago.
-Angela

Now for those of you who don’t know what a backdoor reference is, it’s when you know someone who worked with the person you are doing a reference check on and you call them up to have a FAR more candid unofficial reference. Now Tom probably didn’t know that I knew he was doing that when I had moved on from working for him all those years ago, but I did. I knew perfectly well that even after he was no longer my manager, he STILL wanted to stick it to me. And what I also wanted to tell him was that his name in the market place was one that brought laughter and high eyebrow raises. In many interviews, the interviewers would often say (highly sarcastically) – You worked under Tom? Well how’d that work out for you? And I never once bad-mouthed him, though it took every fiber of my very being not to. I’d say generic things like – He was my boss and I took my directives from him, so I’m not sure what you’re asking for here? Or some interviewers who knew him would say – I worked with Tom before, but I am curious as to what your thoughts on his management style are? And I’d say things like – Well if you worked with or for him, then that makes you already aware of his management style. Then there’d be a long pause followed by some vague smile dancing across their faces, a silent understanding, and we’d move on.

Anyhow… seeing good old Tommy Tomster the other day, and his extreme happiness to see me, made me think of all the nut-so things he did and his delusional perception of thinking I'd do him any favors after we'd worked together. It’s really concerning too, because when he said where he worked now, he said his title was managing the Mid-America Region. Like who in their effin right mind would let you manage a region?! Only a matter of time really. His LinkedIn profile is spotty since his division was eliminated at the previous company that we both worked at. Not to mention, that it was found (by Gumshoe Angela) that the resume he used to get the job all those years ago where he was managing me, was also fabricated. What a sad, sad person he is. But he’s always good for a good giggle when I look by on it all! I'm sure here in a few months he'll reach out to me, via LinkedIn, and ask for another favor or some such nonsense. Maybe this time I won't reply... but then again, if I don't reply then the antics stop there. I'm not sure with how much growing as a person I have done, that I could refrain from reminding him how much of a dumbass he really is. It'd really be a disservice, an injustice really, to anyone who's ever come in contact with this dbag. It all remains to be seen... but for now, I am laughing; laughing hard at his expense.

i'm actively working on becoming the cat lady... what's a life without goals?

So, I had a thought today; difficult to believe, I know. I’m weird. *end useless self-diagnosing*

I recently had a conversation with my cat. It was a pretty serious conversation and at the end of it, I asked her if she fully understood what I was saying and the possible negative ramifications of her actions. And you know what, she meowed. So naturally, I believed we had come to an understanding – asked and answered. I came home from work the other day and I couldn’t find her. As soon as I opened the double doors in my hallway (where my washer / dryer are located), out bolted a very ornery cat. Now, that previous conversation I’d had with her was in regards to just this – going into that closet AS soon as the doors are opened up. I don’t know what it is about that closet, but it’s like friggin cat nip to her. I’ve always been worried I wouldn’t see her go in and shut the doors, ultimately locking her in for an entire day. Look, we talked about this, so I really don’t feel badly that she was trapped in there all day. I told her as much. I mean, I wouldn’t say anything here that I wouldn’t say to her face, so let’s not go getting all judgmental here. Anyhow, after she bolted out and couldn’t decide if she needed to eat or use the bathroom first, I felt compelled to give her the – I told you so – speech, except this time it’d hurt based on the events of that particular day.

ME – Did I not tell you that this could happen? Have we not discussed this before, at length?
HER – Meow.
ME – Don’t sass me. I’m not going to feel guilty that you constantly want to do what I implicitly ask that you don’t do.
HER – Meow.
ME – Dude, seriously. I’m not going to do this with you. You didn’t die in there today. I’m sure it totally sucked for you, but clearly my point was falling…
HER – Meow.
ME – DON’T YOU DARE INTERRUPT ME! As I was saying, clearly my point was falling on deaf ears. Maybe now, now you will rethink your little need to incessantly go in that closet?
HER – Meow.
ME – Ok fine! Apology accepted! How could I stay angry with a face like that?!
HER – Meow.
ME – Now why would you EVEN bring up that $20 pair of Reefs that you stood there and looked me in my eye while you DESTROYED them in the 2 seconds it took from me to fly off the couch and really considered beating you?
HER – Meow.
ME – Yeah, I’m done talking to you now.

We hugged it out. I feel like we really made progress that day, like we’d overcome this conversational barrier that we’ve been struggling with since the beginning of, oh I don’t know, her friggin life.

the not-so-blind leading the blind...

So, I went to the eye doctor recently after a 15+ year hiatus.  I mean, it’s not like I was avoiding the experience, I just didn’t see a real reason to go if I could see just fine.  Blah, blah – I know that I should go to get checked for eye disease, but really – who qualifies that?  No one.  I’m not saying it’s right.  I’m just saying it’s a fact.

 The doctor dilates my eyes so they can figure out how bad my eyes are and to figure out the prescription for glasses, should I need them (which I did).   Here’s what I had forgotten about getting your eyes dilated – you can’t see shit.  Well you can’t really see anything up-close anyhow and reading is 100% out of the question.  I mean, the front desk girl gave me a pair of readers which were supposed to help (and I use the term help, loosely) with being able to see things up-close. 

So blah, blah – I go back and the doctor looks at my eyes and determines I need reading glasses.  Fine.  I was pretty sure I needed glasses of some-sort. 

Now, here’s a fun factoid – your eyes stay dilated for like several hours.  This isn’t a fun or funny factoid, it’s more like a – I really feel like you should let someone pick out a pair of frames BEFORE you dilate the ole peepers, you know… in case they will need a pair.  Instead, they dilate you, tell you that you need glasses, THEN send you on the floor to pick out a pair of frames.

To reiterate – they first dilate your eyes THEN tell you to pick out a pair of frames when you can’t see shit 1-foot from your face.

Is anyone else seeing the gross error in frame selections, here? 

So there I am… blind for all intents and purposes.  I have a pair of readers on trying to squint and pick out glasses.  I can’t tell what the heck I was looking at to say the least.  Now it could be said that if I knew I would likely need glasses, why not start picking something out while I waited on my apt.  Well smart ass – I had done that… 3-days earlier when I was in the place making my appointment.  Trouble was that the morning of my appointment, they had a new shipment of glasses for the new season. 

Which, who the eff knew there were seasons for glasses frames?  Apparently, when you go to a glasses place in far Northwest Plano, this was something I should have known.

That being said, I had picked out a pair of frames that were perfect for me and my tiny baby-sized face.  I knew exactly where they were and what they looked like – even if I was blind.  EXCEPT, the 1 pair I wanted was no longer available and it wasn’t until I was dilated and trying to find that perfect pair of frames on the shelf it lived on 3 days prior, that I was told that the whole store had been moved around and updated with the new season of frames. 

Are you friggin kidding me? 

No, they weren’t – just to be clear.  So… there I am… with a pair of readers on searching for the perfect frames like an old person shopping for produce.  You know, glasses on (which they keep readjusting thinking that by adjusting them, they’ll magically see better), picking up every peach, turning it around, holding it up to the light (you know, for better viewing), and squeezing and tapping it while the entire time with their eyes squinted nose scrunched and mouth breathing because somehow with all that activity going on in trying to see 1 damned piece of fruit, breathing through the nose becomes a reflex task that is too much for the brain to sustain. 

Exchange the word “peach” for “frames”… and you’d have exactly what I imagined I looked like trying to pick out the damn frames. 

I had the readers on trying to see the frames.   Then I would pick a pair of frames and put them on, except then I had no help from the readers to be able to see them in the mirror that was less than a foot from my face.  The mirror would have had to be 1 city block away from me, if I wanted a somewhat clearer image of how I looked in the frames.  The task of picking out my frames became so much of a beating, that I literally trusted the extremely gay sales guy on his opinion of what looked good on me.  I mean, I figured he was gay… he likely knew what was fashionable. 

I pulled my whole – to hell with it!  Do these look the best?

He says – They compliment your face and they are a good color of brown that matches your hair and facial features.  Additionally, they match your eyebrow line perfectly.  It’s like these glasses were made for your face.

Now all I could see was what I was pretty sure was my face and a brown blob sitting atop my nose.  I thought – to hell with it.

ME – Well let’s wrap these puppies up and call this a day.

Personally… I was surprised by the fact that they did indeed look pretty damn good!  That just goes to show, that I am amazing… even with impaired vision (not that anyone was even remotely questioning that fact).

it's not like i've never been fired before...

I got fired recently.  I’ve been fired before.  Several times, actually.  All of them, well with the exception of the time before this last firing where I actually fired myself and this most recent firing, I might have deserved it.  I feel like the admission of me firing myself, 2 firings ago, might warrant some quick clarification… for comedic relief purposes before I go on an ape-shit livid pissed rant about my most recent firing.

So, there I was at my job, hating my life and every day I had to go to work.  The company I had been working for had decided to focus on the Accounting / Finance-side of recruiting and not the IT-side – which is the side I worked on, naturally.  They eventually eliminated the entire division, but in December of 2008, there I was in an upside economy begging for any job in sales.  Companies had taken their sales teams to a skeleton crew and the companies who were hiring were sparse.  In January 2009, I received an offer from a company I had said on more than one occasion – I would never work for that POS company, I don’t care what they paid me!  Welp… desperate times, I suppose.  Apparently, I had some stark raving mad idea that I needed to have a job, salary and heath care or I’d have to go into the old savings account.  Which anyone who knows me well enough, knows that once money goes into the savings account, it’s damn near apoplexy-status for me to take the money out… for any reason, justifiable or not.

To be clear about how much I hated my life at this company – let me give you the list of things that ran through my head every day that I had to go in to work for these people…

·         There were 3 people total on my team; 2 were my bosses.  Too many chiefs?

·         Eventually, they hired on another girl who had previously been fired from this particular company because of her attitude and all around personality… which let me tell you, I understood exactly why she got fire.  This newly hired previously fired broad THOUGHT she was my boss and my other 2 bosses really didn’t do anything to stop her from acting as such so the team breakdown changed.

·         4 people total on the team; 3 were my bosses.  A little top heavy, don’t you think?

·         I had to drive to Downtown Dallas, pay $6 in tolls 1 way, park 3-city blocks away from my building because it was the most reasonable garage parking for the “low” $60 a month, and have ass-in-chair by 8:00am sharp.  I live in FAR Northwest Plano… AKA Oklahoma.  If I wasn’t on the road by 6:50am and God-willing there was no traffic, I might make my ass meet the chair at 8:00am.  A feat I slowly stopped giving a shit if I actually accomplished successfully.

·         I was required to wear a suit every day.  No, no.  You heard me.  A SUIT.  Dude, I barely owned a suit any more… REALLY.  So that was a rule I quickly just didn’t follow.  Screw that.

·         The women weren’t allowed to wear open-toed shoes.  Uh, I didn’t own 1 pair of close-toed shoes… or if I did, I literally owned 1-pair and wearing them every day for that 3-city block walk on cobblestone sidewalks seemed pretty damn unreasonable.  So I began wearing flops and “saying” I had a change of shoes in my bag – but had anyone asked, I wouldn’t have been able to produce them. 

·         If you wore a skirt, you were required to wear hose.  WTF?  No seriously, screw hose.  I want to punch the person who invented hose.  Horrific.  No, not happening.

·         Hours of “preferred” operations, AKA mandatory work hours, 8:00am to 6:30pm.  Uh. Yeeeah, no.  Another rule I slowly stopped giving a shit about. 

Now after all my above admitted disregard for the company and their rules, you’da thought they woulda fired me.  Which, I was pretty sure they were well on their way to doing, but it was a big company and I think they had a process of firing people that took time and documentation.  Shit, I don’t know – I wouldn’t have disputed it.  I’da said… sweet… pay me unemployment and eat shit – but that’s not exactly how it went down. 

So, I was on a ramp of how much commissions I was supposed to be bringing in per month until I got to month like 6 or some such nonsense.  I didn’t care and/or pay attention because I continued to look for a job before my 1^st day of work with this company.  Basically it was like, I had to bring in $3K in revenue the 1^st month, $6K the next 2-months, $8K the 4^th month, $10K for the 5^th and l think the end goal was $12K a month at a minimum from 6-months on out.  I don’t really remember actually.  I specifically remember not caring about remembering the ramp at the time I was employed there, thinking it’d be a miracle if I was even still there in 6-months.

Let’s talk next about the kinds of meetings I was in with all my bosses. 

·         Angela, you’re not making your numbers.  Now, how is that physically possible when I was the only person on the team making placements?  But ok.

·         Angela, you’re acting a little anti-social in regards to the team.  Now, I’m sorry guys, but I was in a meeting with you like a couple of weeks ago, where you somehow fabricated the fact that I wasn’t making my numbers and so I decided to be a heads-down worker and now I am in a meeting about not being social enough?  So, am I supposed to make my numbers (which I needed a refresh course on what was actually expected of me, but I knew I was clearly over where I was supposed to be at the time – numbers-wise) OR shoot the shit about who got voted off American Idol last night, because I’m a bit confused.  This meeting ended with all of us staring at one another and me saying, well… I think we covered everything and then me leaving the office with them still staring at me.

·         Angela, because you seemingly can’t make your numbers, we believe that you sold you skill sets as a Senior Recruiter under false pretenses and in order to keep you, we will have to dock your salary by $10K and reclassify you as a Junior Recruiter.  WTF?  Are you kidding me?  I thought this meeting was to fire me.  As a matter of fact, I had hoped it was to fire me and was slightly disappointed by the fact that they just wanted to patronizingly condescendingly insult me.  Dude, you guys are really telling me I have to go back to my desk?!  PS – I asked them how much I was off from my projected quota for YTD and this, I swear on my life is what they said – You’re off by $40K.  Now, I had been there all of 3-months… and by my best math, there is no PHYSICAL way I could be in the hole $40K when I had made placements AND could only be in the whole a total of $18K if I hadn’t made 1 single placement.  $40K happened to  be over 2x my projected ramp. 

·         Seriously, at this point, I was like my salary now $10K less, the $60 it costs me to park a day and the $12 in toll fees each day – it started to feel like having a salary and health care really wasn’t all that friggin important.

Anyhow… 1 of my real bosses was going to be out of the office for several weeks.  That meant that the previously fired chick who was a RAVING bitch… I mean the kind that would plan something for the whole IT team and just not invite me for no real reason other than she decided on day 1 she didn’t like me, though I said and did nothing to her.  Which look, I hate that place and all the people in it, so it’s not like I would have gone had they invited me, but being treated like that in a place you hate eventually wears on even the strongest of personalities.  One time, one of the other members of the other side of the IT division asked me in front of that raving bitch if I was coming to an IT happy hour.  I said – Oh, I wasn’t invited.  And this broad has the audacity to say – Oh, yeah… you can come if you want to, but I don’t think I asked for enough space to accommodate an extra person.  To which I responded with – , I would love to attend this happy hour, to see that 1 you didn’t reserve a space in the exact number excluding me, 2 to prove that you just have a stick up your ass and to make you generally uncomfortable… because you don’t really know this about me, but I thrive in confrontational situations and really relish the times when I get to be a part of them, but really – I’ve had to listen to you run your mouth all day and frankly, the point I would be making just doesn’t sound worth it to me… so while I want to thank you for the kind bullshit of a forced offer, I’d rather stick my face in acid then go with you on a company happy hour.

Woulda thought that woulda gotten me fired too, right?  Nope.

Anyhow, to end this little story – on a Wednesday I go in to work and 1 of my 3 bosses is now out for several weeks and I am left with Big’en (because she really just was a big’en) telling me that she was going to be taking over some of my accounts because she was Senior and I was Junior.  Yeah, well I had decided that I could give a shit-less about salary and health care – I’d figure something else out on those notes – but I was definitely going to be fired and on that day, because I full intentions of collecting unemployment from them. 

I walked into my bosses boss’s office and sat down… closed the door and was like – look… I don’t want to be here, you clearly don’t want me here, so let’s cut the pleasantries and how about you just fire me?  She was like – oh no, I don’t know what you’re talking about… we want you he…  I cut her off.  I was like – No, no you don’t.  You thought docking my salary by $10K would get me to leave, and it didn’t.  Somehow I am probably up to being negative by $50K according to your records, which let’s get real honest in here, isn’t even physically possible after 4-months.  Seriously now?  Let’s cut the crap.  There are 2 options here… 1) you fire me and I leave happy OR 2) I can go back to my desk, kick off my shoes and read the book I have been trying to finish, until you get sick of looking at that and fire me.  I’m game for this situation going either way, but I am not quitting.  So if you want to go draft up those termination papers that you and I can sign and I can take with me, because I will be applying for unemployment about 5-minutes after I leave here, I’ll just be on my way.

With termination papers signed and in hand, I was escorted out about 5-minutes later.     

Now, on to my most recent firing… which will be FAR less entertaining.  I was just fired by my PCP (Primary Care Physician).  I’m sorry, what you ask?  How is this possible?  Well let me just tell you.

I’ve written before about me being on ADD meds – they are a CII narcotic and are fairly stringently regulated but the state and the doctors alike.  I’m not complaining about each different doctor’s preference and will accommodate their comfort-levels to have a working relationship where everyone wins.  Now, the doctor I used to see for years, retired.  Some younger doctors took over his practice and I was handed off to a doctor that I ended up really getting along with and loved!  He eventually moved to another practice and I was left being shuffled to the last doctor, the one I never wanted to see – Doctor Shashi Mittal – she’s in the Addison Family Medicine Associates Practice in Addison, TX.

This girl… I have NO idea how she has a license to practice medicine, to be perfectly honest.  She screwed up writing prescriptions for my meds multiple time, among a slew of other junk.  WORST DOCTOR EVER, I caution against using her… ever.  When I was transferred to her after my other doctor left the practice, she went through my previous meds background.  Which, fine – you need to get to know me, and there’s a lot to know about me.  Got it.  I was only in there asking for my ADD meds, which were due for a fill at the time.  She went through all my meds telling me that 99% of them I didn’t need to be on and there were better treatments for whatever those meds were treating that we far less addictive.  Well shit lady – I am in here asking for the street equivalent of speed and you are concerned about the addictive level of adding Promethazine (brand name Phenergan, an antinausea medication that can be used in combination with migraine meds to help the flow of blood when in the middle of a sever migraine) to my migraine medication regimen.  To which I said – well I’m sure you can see how many different cocktails my previous doctor and I went through before we landed on this method of treatment as being a successful one, right?  Not to mention he gave me 25 pills of Promethazine like 6-months ago, and I am not out of those, nor am I asking for a refill on those… so I am not real clear on how a medication regimen I am taking could be less at a risk for an addictive outcome?  She went down every pill I had registered on file in this manner.  I knew she and I were not going to be getting along.

Once she hit the fact that I have received Norco for endometriosis pain management, she came to a full stop.  I said – let me guess, there’s something far less addictive I could be taking?  She didn’t find that entertaining in the least.  She said – well that seems like an awful lot of Norco for you to be taking?  I said – I’m sorry, I just had surgery for my endometriosis in November 2010 and I had those files and x-rays sent to this office.  I’m sure you have a record of that, correct?  Furthermore, my doctor gives me a very limited amount for the year – which generally equates to 2-3 pills per month, should I need them and I have never called in a refill for them – meaning I take them as needed, wouldn’t you agree?  I made you aware about the other doctor, what she prescribes me, why she gives it to me and how much I get.  I actually didn’t have to do that, now did I?  I’m trying to be 100% completely honest about my medical record so that you can best treat me.  Not to judge me in any way, which is kind of how I was feeling during this little walk through my jacked up medical record.

So blah, blah – it wasn’t a good start.  Now on to her firing me for her gross incompetence.  After writing my ADD meds RX wrong about 15x, we’d come up with a plan that she would write me the RX for a 2-month supply and for the 3^rd month, I could come into the office and pick up a RX for the last month (with no co-pay fee) and then on the 4^th month, I needed to come in and meet with her, because of the type of medication this was.  Fine, sounds good.  I was just trying to avoid paying a $30 co-pay every month to see her, if she could give me an RX for 3-mths and then I will make an appointment.  Which PS – the only reason she wouldn’t write me the RX for 3-months was because she said I was getting too much of a (you guessed it) highly addictive drug.  Which yes, I take 3 pills in the morning so for a 3-month supply, it would be 270 pills.  Yes, a lot.  But here’s where I took issue… I have been on this for years.  I have never asked for the meds early and often times go longer than 3-months because I don’t necessarily take my ADD meds on the weekends, etc.  To which when I told her that 3-months would usually last longer than 3-months she told me that that meant I was getting too many pills.  Uh?  Oook.  I can ask for a refill exactly on the 3-month mark, but for someone who is concerned with me having too many of an addictive pill in my possession, this little process she had me moving on seemed counterproductive to her goal.

Whatever.  I can follow the rules and make very little waves.  It’s like my theory on Customs Lines at the airport.  You don’t joke.  You don’t screw around.  They tell you to take off your pants because they want a closer look; you take off your pants.  They are in charge.  With this kind of med, the doctor’s comfort-level runs the show. I’m good with that, but don’t be a dumb broad.  I think what I am asking is a fair trade / relationship with my doctor.

Ok.  April 2011 Dr. Mittal writes me an RX for my ADD meds for a 2-month supply (a total 180 pills).  She says in 60-days call in and I will write a RX that you can pick up for a 30-day supply (a total of 90 pills).  Got it; consider it done and done.  My 60-day RX would run out on June 26, 2011 – which was a Sunday.  In an effort to give my ignorant doctor enough time to write the RX before the weekend, I called for a refill on the morning of Thursday June 23, 2011 like at 10:00am.  I didn’t hear anything back from them on Thursday, so Friday morning around 11:00am, I call my doctors office to check on the status of getting the RX written.  Naturally, I get their voicemail.  I left a message.  I missed their return call, but I am guessing Dr. Mittal’s nurse, Amber called me and left me a message with her office line on it and told me to call her back.  I promptly did.  Now, Amber…. she might actually be more of an idiot than Dr. Mittal, if that’s physically possible.  Anyhow, she tells me (again, after I called in to check on the status of my RX), that oh yes, it was approved by the doctor, but that I won’t be able to get the RX until Monday.  Well, what the eff for?  Though I believe I actually said – well, if it’s been approved, I’m not sure why I would have to wait until Monday?  And the brilliant Amber says – well she didn’t write it before she left.

Well, AWESOME Amber.  Thanks.  So I say – well, I am out of my meds on Sunday, so I am not sure what I am supposed to do about that.  And this is where Amber thought she could enlighten me as to how I can help her better do her job in the future. 

She says – We always ask that patients give us a 24-hour notice on sensitive critical medications like this, so that we have time to process them, write the RX and get the meds to you on time.  In the future…

So, yeah you guessed it… I cut her right the eff off and said – Oh thanks Amber for that clarification.  But, that leaves me a bit confused, though.

Amber – How so?

Me – I called in my request yesterday morning (Thursday) around 10:00am, and here I am calling to check on the status of my RX being written… what’s this?  Oh, I would appear to be 24-hours later, right?  I mean unless you have a different definition of 24-hours notice – is that like 2-business days or like a literal 24-hours notice?

Amber – Oh, you called in and requested this be refilled yesterday morning?

Me – Yeah, I did.  And I didn’t get a call yesterday with a status update and I didn’t get a call today telling me the RX had been approved and I could come and pick it up on Monday.  So really, I’m a little confused as to how I can better facilitate this process in the future as I am following all your requirements and protocols on getting a sensitive critical medication refilled – am I not?

Amber – Either way, the doctor is not in to write your RX, so it’ll be Monday before you can get it.

Now, I know it sounds like I was being bitchy and I probably was, but I was being nice / polite bitchy at this point.  Not raising my voice and generally sounding like I was confused as to how I screwed up the process.  Amber didn’t really catch on to any of it as her tone never really changed.  That’s cool.  At this point, I was only annoyed.  Come Monday however, I damn near had a meltdown in the lobby of my ignorant doctors waiting area.

Monday June 27, 2011 – Noon rolls around and while at lunch, it dawned on me that I had not heard back from my doctor’s office about my RX being written.  So I called to make sure it was taken care of so that I could stop in on my way back to the office after lunch.  It was a rare occasion that someone actually answered the phone.  It was their front-lady who answered.  Now, let me just say that I am pretty sure that on a normal day, this lady hates her life, hates the fact that she woke up that morning and then headed on in to work for the day.  She is a peach to have to interact with, basically.

So I give her the short run down of Thursday and Friday of last week and that I just wanted to check to see if the RX was written so I could come get it.  She then informs me of this little gem… she says – Oh, well actually the doctor has declined writing the RX and says you need to make an appointment to see her before she will write you any more meds. 

Ok.  It’s official.  I’m encroaching on pissed-off status.  I’m had not completely arrived, but I was definitely being goaded into Belligerentville.  So I enquire as to why exactly it is that I was told on Friday that it had been approved and I could get it on Monday?  She said – I’m not sure about that, you’ll need to talk to Amber.

Friggin Amber?  Again?  Yeah, I really didn’t think so.

Me – Well ma’am, nothing personal against Amber, but she’s the one who told me it was approved on Friday, so I am not sure she’s the most informed person that I should be connecting with.

Her – She’s the one who will be writing your RX, so she will be the one you need to speak with.

Me – Actually, no.  Amber cannot write a CII RX, only the doctor can, so she’s as valuable to me as you are at this point (which I had hoped and was pretty sure that it did come across as not at all valuable).

Her – You are going to have to talk to Amber, I’m sorry. 

Me – Ok, well please tell Amber that Dr. Mittal and I had spoken 2-months ago and she said she would approve the 3^rd month of this medication without having to be seen by her.

Her – Ma’am again, you are going to have to talk to Amber.

Ok, THAT pissed me off.

Me – Ok, listen.  I heard you about Amber.  But you are going to have to walk a note in to her to call me back now aren’t you?  So I would like for you to take down my note and give it to her.  The likelihood is that I won’t need to talk with Amber after you give her my note.  Or were you going to hand her a note with my name and phone number on it and say – call this random patient and give no details on why I called and/or why she would be calling me back?  I just want to know what the process is, so I can properly follow it to make your jobs that much easier.

Her – Ok, but you will need to talk to Amber.  Would you like to go ahead and make an appointment to see Dr. Mittal in case she does need you to come in and be seen?

Me – That shouldn’t happen, but just for kicks, when is her next opening?

Her – Friday July 1, 2011 at 2:00pm.

Me – Ok, now wait 1 minute.  You mean to tell me… and I really just want to make sure my timeline is correct before I get a little out of hand here, but… you mean to tell me that I called in requesting this med to be refilled on Thursday June 23, 2011, and I received no call on Thursday with a status update. I called back on Friday and got the wonderful Amber who tells me my RX, which I ran out of my meds on Sunday, that the RX was approved and I could come in and get it on Monday.  I call in on Monday June 27, 2011 around noon only to be told – OH, no that RX has been declined and you need to be seen before she will give you a refill.  So, how is it that I was not called on Monday with this small but fairly critical update?  Furthermore, how come I was told it was approved on Friday?  How come I was not told then that it would be declined?  How come I had to call today and find out it was declined?  How come when the RX was declined, I didn’t get a call from anyone from your office?  How come now, on Monday, when I made it clear that I would be out of my meds as of yesterday from the very first call I made requesting a refill, do I find out that the next available appointment is Friday – making that a full 5 days of being completely out of my medication.  Is this correct?

Her – I wouldn’t know what and/or why Amber would have told you that and there are no notes saying that she did tell you that.

Me – So, I guess that because there is no documentation, it didn’t happen?  I’m just making up my frustration and the events of the last 3 days, I guess? 

Her – Well, like I said, you’re going to have to speak with Amber.

I was OVER the conversation, this idiot and the whole damn process. 

I waited a few hours and I hadn’t so much as heard a peep back from them on the status, if it was going to be written, if I needed to secure in that Friday appointment… nothing.  So I call up to the office.  No one answers.  I call the number Amber left for me on Friday.  No one answers.  I wait a few and try both numbers a couple of times and no one answers any of the lines / numbers I have for them.

I was stewing at my desk, by the 12^th unanswered call.  So I said to hell with it, they are all of 2-minutes from my office, I’ll just go up there personally and see what the status is on my RX being written.

I walk in and I know the lady behind the glass is the lady I spoke with around noon, only 2.5 hours earlier – literally.  Now, I while I was pissed, I kept my cool because again, it was like I was in line at Customs trying to get back into the USA from Mexico.  I was calm and to the point.  I walked in and politely said – Hey, you and I spoke around noon today about getting a refill on my RX, do you remember speaking with me? 

Her – No, actually.  I don’t.  Can you refresh my memory, please?

ARE YOU EFFIN SERIOUS WITH ME RIGHT NOW?!

Me – Oh sure, no problem.  I called asking about the 30-day ADD RX that was declined saying I needed to be seen before I could get that RX again.

Her – No, still not ringing a bell… which medication was it?

Me – It’s a CII med for ADD.

Her – Oh yeah, that kind of rings a bell.  Let me check on that.

REALLY?!  OMG… I HATE YOU.

She comes back and says that the doctor approved it and was writing the RX.  Which, at that point, I was encroaching on livid-pissed status.  I mean, so no call saying it was approved… nothing?!  REALLY?!  And I was questioning if it was even approved because you would think if it had been, it would have already been written.  Eh… at that point, I didn’t care.  I was getting the RX and that was all that mattered.  After this little go around, I wasn’t planning on returning to such a shitty doctor’s office with incompetent staff and more incompetent doctors. 

The front desk girl comes back and hands me the RX after she charges me $10 as the cost to the doctor to write the RX.  THEN she takes the most condescending tone with me and begins to explain that the doctor only wrote it for 30-days and I would need to be seen before she’d write another RX.

Me – Oh, you mean like exactly what was supposed to happen?  I seem to be the only one understanding that she was going to write the script for 30-days and I would come in next month for a visit?  I don’t know why you are giving me these directions and in that tone, to be honest?

I didn’t wait for an answer, I turned on my heels and walked out.

I got 2-steps out of the door and turned right around and went back into my doctor’s office.  I say to the lady at the front desk – this RX should be written for a supply of 90 pills, not 30 pills. 

This lady throws her hands on her hips and YELLS at me – NOW I TOLD YOU THAT YOU WOULD ONLY BE GETTING A 30-DAY SUPPLY, I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU DIDN’T UNDERSTAND ABOUT THAT?!

So, I calmly start out my next statement like this – Oh, yes!  I completely understand that, but I take 3-pills a day, so a total of 30-pills will only get me through 10-days.  A supply of 90-pills IS a 1-month supply.  You might want to just double check on that and let me know.

She snatched the RX out of my hand and stormed off.  When she resurfaced, she had nothing in her hands.  I thought, well shit… now I’ve done it!  They aren’t going to write the script at all – shit.  If ONLY that had been the issue… but nah, it was something far better.  I was standing about 10-feet away from the front counter and facing away from them.  I was trying to keep my composure and not get belligerent until I had the RX in hand.  The front-desk lady says the most unforgettable sentence to me, which damn near resulted in my hitting – postal rage – level. 

Her – According to our records for you, you have always only been on 1 pill a day.

Now, somehow I floated from where I was standing to right up on the front-desk window.  I remember being so pissed that I was afraid to speak.  Instead, I looked like a crazy person about to break.  I had both hands raised up to my temples.  My middle fingers were tapping my temples and my eyes were forcefully and tightly squeezed shut and I might have been rocking a little… I’m not 100% sure.  What I did manage to get out between teeth that were tightly shut against one another was – I can’t even begin to tell you how angry and frustrated I just became.  I mean I said it as calm as day, which kind of freaked me out to be honest.  I can only imagine what I looked like to her – but screw her.

I stopped talking for what felt like an eternity but was probably only 20-seconds so I could gain composure.  When I began again, I said – well, that would be news to me seeing how in the entire time I have been on this medication I have never, not even for 1 day been on 1 pill a day.  I think that the pharmacy might find it interesting that they gave me 180-pills 2 months ago and the directions should have read 1-pill a day instead of 3.  Also, according to your “records” (which yes, I literally air quoted in her face), and based on the fact that she wrote me an RX for 180-pill 2-mths ago, I’m about 4-months early on requesting a refill, now aren’t I?  Furthermore, whose records are any of you looking at?  It literally can’t be mine, or you would know how ridiculous you sound right now.  I mean, I would be happy to have the pharmacy scan and email you a copy of the RX that Dr. Mittal can’t seem to remember writing less than 60-days ago and really, why should she have to remember?  I mean she makes notes in patient records… oh, yeah… that… hmm… I’m not sure what to do from here?  I mean, can you give me your fax number?  I’ll be glad to have my pharmacy fax you records for the last 3 years I have been here and been getting this medication from this practice?  What is it that I can provide to you, so that you can do your job better?  Huh?

Her – Well, I am only going by what your records say.

Me – You aren’t looking at my records, because if you were, you would be handing me an RX written for 90-pills / a 30-day supply rather than telling me I am wrong about what meds and how much of those meds I have been on for the last several years.  Right?  

She walked off and when she returned, she handed me an RX written for a supply of 90-pills for a 30-day supply.  And this bitch had the audacity to REPEAT her original condescending tone with me and begun to explain AGAIN that the doctor would only be writing it for 30-days and I would need to be seen before she’d write another RX. 

OMG!  REALLY?!

I stared at her with that blank dead-fish glazed over stare.  Dumbfounded.  Rendered speechless for like the 2^nd time in my life.  When I did gather my thoughts, I said to her – I am just so disappointed with how this office has handled this and treated me.

Her – Well, if you had called the right phone number originally, none of this would have happened.

Me – (Now, I had NO EFFIN idea what number she was referring to, but I was so far past understanding what that even meant) I’m sorry.  I find it deplorably reprehensible and erroneous on your part for you to even infer or attempt to hint at the inference that I am in the wrong here?  Please tell me that’s not what you’re doing here?  I mean, did you just blame me for this situation?  How am I to blame for the doctor writing an RX improperly – I mean among a slew of a variety of ill-missteps taken by pretty much every single staff member in this office that I could reference from the last 3-days?

Her – No, ma’am.  You misunderstood.  I wasn’t blaming you. I merely said that had you left a message on the proper line, this could have been resolved.

Me – Now, I really hate to break this down to the semantics of it all but you are still blaming me.  I mean, last time I checked… that by you saying I didn’t call the right line and I screwed up the process to now saying that you said I didn’t leave a voicemail – which you never mentioned the word voicemail in your first accusation – that my actions and/or lack thereof are the direct result of the situation I am currently in.  That’s absolutely ludicrous.  1- I called in my request 24-hours in advance. 2- I was told when I checked back in 24-hours later that the RX had been approved and I could get it on Monday, which here we are.  3- Monday, I call and follow-up again to be told that my RX is declined.  And I ask that a message of clarity be provide so that I could get the RX as promised 2-months ago and again last Friday.  TO 4- You telling me that ALL of this could have been resolved if I had left a message on the proper phone line?  REALLY?  Is that REALLY what you are telling me right now?  How unprofessional can 1 doctors office actually be? I didn’t wait for the answer.

Angela: Exits Stage Left.

As soon as I walked out of that office and decided that I would promptly begin looking for a new doctor.  PS – from the time I arrived at their office to the time I was walking out with the correct RX, it had been 45-minutes.  THAT little realization further pissed me off.

So that was on Monday June 27, 2011.  On Wednesday June 30, 2011 – I get the letter below… FIRING ME.  As of blah, blah I am terminating our patient-physician relationship, blah, blah…

Are you EFFIN kidding me?!  Well… really, this is exactly something that I would expect to happen to me.  But I have to say, that I wanted to tell them to EFF off, not the other way around.  Well played you incompetent excuse for a doctor.  Consider our relationship terminated, bitch.

Except as soon as I said that, they then decided that they would take every bit of the legal 15-days they have to give me, in-hand, a copy of my medical records.  When I called and asked for them, I damn near came unglued.  I ask the girl, who I now think was Amber, if it would be possible for me to run by the same day at the end of the day and get a copy of those records.  She LAUGHED and said and I quote…

Uh, no.  I have far more important things to do, like see and treat patients.  So, mid-weekish when I can maybe get around to it, I will get you taken care of – but not before then.  By law, we have 15 days to give you your medical records, so there is plenty of time.

OMG… if ever I wanted to threaten someone… it would have been RIGHT then.  But then I thought, you really are going to piss off the wrong person one day and I don’t want to be on record or in the middle of a criminal case defending why I said I would burn the place down in a fit of rage whilst being told I was not important to be worth 5-minutes of her time. 

Seriously… I got fired by my PCP.  It wouldn't be the first time I was fired for being right... but lo and behold, it's yet another ridiculous event to add to the list...

i've decided...

The last time I was leaving my yearly “womanly” doctor’s appointment and I thanked my doctor, I decided that by thanking her for her services, that kind act was, for all intents and purposes, the same thing as thanking a prostitute right before I paid her.  I mean, if you strip away all the doctor titles, what’s left is uncomfortably similar.

For some unknown reason, somewhere along the road I started using the phrase – I have the immune system of that of an AIDS patient.  Now, bypass the grossly inconsiderate and crude reference, I decided that using that phrase while you are in your doctor’s office because you are sick, is beyond inappropriate.  It seems to have resulted in an awkward moment of silence right after my doctor uncomfortably laughed, then asked – well have you ever been tested for AIDS?  Dude, yes… and no, I don’t have AIDS.  FINE.  I get it – inappropriate.

Recently, when I was switching my internet / TV services from Dish Network to AT&T Uverse, I was writing down all the shows I record regularly so I could transfer what I record over to my new service.  I decided when I got to #102, I watch FAR too much TV. 

When spotting a police officer on horseback, I’ve decided that NO COP has a sense of humor and slapping the arse of the horse saying giddy-up is not appropriate.  As I later found out, it’s actually never appropriate.  Something about hearing that proclamation while cuffed made this make a WHOLE lot more sense.  Hindsight. 

After doing about 6-months of 3+mile cardio work outs on an elliptical and then believing that because I could do 3+ miles on an elliptical, I should be able to easily run a mile, I decided that it is nothing like actually running a mile.  I also decided that the elliptical is a damn liar.

When you see a grown man dressed up as a pony with a sign hanging around his neck saying – pony ride $1 – and you think it’s a good idea to test that little sign out, I’ve decided one broken ring finger later, it was not worth the $1 it cost.  I also decided that it’s not healthy to feed into EVERY fetish that exists.  I also decided that you should probably be aware that such a thing falls into the fetish category.

When I was planning on going to Mexico and my parents disagreed with my destination choice, they wanted to pray over me and my anticipated travels, I decided that it’s not appropriate to tell your VERY Catholic father not to forget to pray that you are not traded into the Mexican sex-slave trade.  I also decided that no matter how old you get, you’re never too old to catch an unsuspecting back hand.  I also decided I am not as clear of the rules of the Christian ways, because it felt inappropriate to pray over someone that you just smacked the shit out of...

When eating at a restaurant that has a known track record of giving you stomach issues, I’ve decided that no matter how many times you believe you can beat the system, your system will always beats you.  I’ve also decided that you shouldn’t get restaurant choice bold while on a date.  I also decided that there’s a time and a place to play roulette and anywhere outside of a casino, is not the place.

If you have the pleasure of knowing someone that lives on an emotional rollercoaster (which I also lovingly refer to as a Prozac Rollercoaster), I’ve decided that the word rational doesn’t really exist.  I’ve decided that they are going to act a fool and it’s in your best interest to back up and let them take center stage.  I’ve also decided that if you try and share that space with them, you tend to look like the fool, making apologies for things they did like you did them yourself. 

When running a 5K and you are finding your own running pace, I’ve decided that saying the pace of the person in front of you matches your pace well, only to get along side her to realize she’s “about to have a baby right there” pregnant, you might need to actually attend those morning running classes you’ve been skipping out on. 

When taking your car into the shop because the automated speedometer isn’t reading properly, I’ve decided that before you go acting like you need some kind of car maintenance, you might want to check to see if you are looking at MPH v. KPH.  I also decided that if such an instance occurs and you are female, you deserve the “little lady” comment that you will likely get, much like I acceptingly experienced.

When in Mexico and you stupidly decide to go snorkeling, I’ve decided that it’s not in your best interest to sign a contract in regards to your safety that is written in another language.  I decided that the one I signed probably said, and I paraphrase – we’ll TRY and get you back to where we picked you up from / you SHOULD wear a life jacket, but we won’t force you to wear one / if you get tired and need to swim back to the boat, you’ll likely do it alone and we have high hopes that you don’t drown from fatigue.

When going to see a Cirque du Soleil show in Vegas, I’ve decided a few things should and shouldn’t happen.  I’ve decided there’s a reason they don’t serve alcohol during the show.  I’ve also decided that it’s really not a smart idea to tell that rule to eff off and drink to excess before you go into the show.  I’ve also decided that when they say no photography, they mean – no photography.  I also decided that when they confiscate your camera because you WERE taking pictures during the show, when you go to retrieve said camera at the end of the show, if you are still intoxicated, you should act as if you aren’t.  I’ve decided that accusing the Cirque people of breaking your camera and causing a huge scene lands you in cuffs.  Subsequently, I also decided if you are a cute enough girl, you can bribe the arresting officer with a date… a date on a day that you will not be in Vegas any longer.  I’ve decided that really, you should just go right ahead and do all of the above, because there is no real repercussion.  I’ve decided that I learned nothing from my Vegas experience.

You should make up and use words inappropriately.  I’ve decided that it’s humorous.  I also decided that it may not be funny to anyone but you.  Subsequently, I decided that that was more than enough of a valid justification to continue said behavior.  


While going through airport security leaving Las Vegas, I've decided that if you are randomly selected to be patted down by a female security officer, it's not appropriate for you to ask her if that experience is turning her on as much as it's turning you on.  I've also decided that asking that question at the exact moment they are between you and the holy land, might be the wrong time to crack this particular joke.  I've also decided that airport security workers have no sense of humor and can throw around their fake badges to land you in an all out strip search.  I then decided that it was no longer a turn on.