I took a day off from school to visit my optometrist today. Not that he's a shut-in. I went to his office in the proper way, had air puffed into my eyes, looked at the red barn down at the end of the long driveway, clicked at wavy lines, and told him which was better: one or two, three or four, five or six, seven or eight. That guy really has problems with indecision.
I was not happy that my appointment was for 8:30, and when I tried to enter the establishment at 8:25, the door was locked up tighter than my best old ex teaching buddy Mabel's cabinet full of rulers and giant yellow glue sticks. Like Glen Campbell as LaBeouf in True Grit told that squirrel-headed b@stard to be careful eating the chicken and dumplings at the Monarch Boarding House because it would hurt his eyes (looking for the chicken)...I would like to warn all of you to be careful getting your eyes checked at Total Sight Care, because it will hurt your arm (trying to enter the office).
The appointment itself got underway around 8:50, after the counter help mined all of my medical information and sloughed me off on the instruments of torture technician. She turned me over to a licensed professional, who said, "I see that you avoided the dilation last time. Do you have a driver with you today?" Um. No. Because the girl who made my appointment told me to bring my prescriptions and my insurance card. Nary a mention of a driver. I didn't know a dilation was planned every exam. Silly me for not being hip to the ways of the ocular inspectors.
Ten minutes with the doc himself, and I was free as a bird to cough up some cash for new sight implements. I had three sets of frames with me, and opted for two sets of replacement lenses. Much to the consternation of the staff, who must be on commission selling frames. By now it was 9:00, and I was not happy to see my seller smacking her Dell, grousing that it was not even on yet. Really? REALLY? You open at 8:30, but don't bother to turn on your laptop until you sit down with your first customer? She got up and smacked a Dell on a neighboring table. Then came back. Poor Dell. That woman was whacker. Instead of pecking like a normal person when she typed, she hit each letter with the force of a mole-whacker. AND THEN, she had the nerve to look at me and complain, "Can you believe this thing skips letters? I hit it and look at the screen and wonder why my letter isn't there." Yeah. You probably knocked it right out of Dell's throat like a Heimliched piece of steak.
I'll be danged if that gal wasn't still abusing the keyboard at 9:20. And I wasn't even trying on frames. All she had to do was enter the number on the side of my old frames, the prescription, and hit enter. The counter girls had already input the insurance information.
Thanks to The Whacker, I was almost late for my rendezvous with Mabel on the Hardee's parking lot. More on that at later date and a different place.
Right now I need to go apply some ActiveOn to my arm.