March 24th, 2003

eye

Have you smelled Zelda* today?

Remember the Fork- like-Spoon lady? From my optometrist's office a week or so ago?

Well, this past Thursday, she said I wasn't eligible for insurance, but couldn't be bothered to look up the date of my last appointment. Which would have clarified everything right there. But no. Where is my chart? She no find my chart. OK, fine.

So Friday, I spoke to my insurance company. They said I was eligible, and called her and told her.

Saturday, I looked up the date of my last appointment in my checkbook. The insurance company was mistaken. I wasn't eligible; my last checkup was July (how I mixed up July and March is beyond me), and I'm allowed one checkup per year.

So today I called the Fork-like-Spoon lady to tell her I wasn't eligible, and to please cancel my appointment.

"Hi! My name is Zelda* Fork* and I have an appointment today, and need to cancel..." "Oh, Fork*! How do you spell that?"

*spells name* *spells name again* *suppresses small scream*

Now, keep in mind here, I was taught good diction. I practice my diction. I occasionally get paid to stand on a stage and speak clearly (among other things). Diction is my friend. Sure I can mumble at times, but when I'm paying attention, I'm a regular freaking dictionary.

So after the whole Fork*-spelling thing, she said I wasn't eligible. I said I know, I'm not eligible. She said but you're not eligible. I said, I know. So let's cancel the checkup for today. My bad. She says you want checkup today? No, say I, cancel checkup today. No checkup? Uhm, no, no checkup. You're not eligible. Yes. Yes. I know.

Fork*, right? (Yes! Fork*!)

I said, can you fax me my prescription so I can just order another pair of contacts?
Her: Fax? What is fax? I can mail. I should mail.
Me: No, fax. Fax machine.
Her: Fax is what? I have address.
Me: Telephone fax machine. Fax machine?
Her: Oh! Fax machine! Telephone.
Me: Yes! Fax machine is fine.
Her: No, no, I should mail. Should I ask the doctor? I'll ask the doctor.
Me: No, that's not necessary, trust me you can fa--
Her: Hold on! I ask the doctor.
Me: ...
Her: I speak to doctor, he says yes, I can fax! What is fax number?
Me: 555-5452.
Her: 555-545.
Me: ... Five four five TWO.
Her: Five four five?
Me: *repeats the seven-digit number*
Her: *reads back six digits*
Me: TWO.
Her: Huh?
Me: FIVE FOUR FIVE TWOOOOOO.
Her: FIVE FOUR FIVE! Yes!
Me: There is one more number: two. Five four five two. 555-5452. TWO! FIVE FOUR FIVE TWO!
Her: Oh! Haha! Five four five two! I see!
Me: *dies*

I realize that English is likely a second language for this woman, and I can sympathize and all, but, but, BUT IT'S A FREAKING PHONE NUMBER! THEY ALL HAVE SEVEN DIGITS! In the event that you do not know this, or cannot count to seven, you may wish to reconsider your career choice of providing secretarial assistance in an optometrist's office!

Whew. Thank you for the vent there. I wasn't about to start yelling at this poor woman, but I was getting just a little frustrated. With her. Again. :P

In other news...

I'm so very tired. I barely slept last night. Or Saturday night. Tonight I have Midsummer rehearsal in East South Bumfus. It's a nice drive, but a long one, especially at rush hour. I hope my car makes it OK. I hope I make it OK.

And now my employees are coming in and smelling me. No, seriously. "Come here! You have to smell Zelda*! Have you smelled Zelda* today?"

I'm wearing Green Tea, by Elizabeth Arden. Is pretty. It's the same scent I've been wearing two-to-three times a week for the entire time you've been working here.

Is it just my life that's surreal like this? Or do you guys get this type of stuff going on, too?

I'm afraid to leave the office to go get coffee. There seems the reasonable chance that I might be followed by a paperboy demanding his two dollars, be attacked by a rogue aquatic bird, or get run over by the #545 in a particularly poetic death-by-bussing (and not the smoochy kind of bussing, either). My day is just that strange and surreal.

Well, I'd better go get the coffee anyway. I'm about ready to faceplant here.

Wish me luck.

* Not my real name.
  • Current Music
    TWOOOOOOOOOOOO!
eye

People are strange, when you're a stranger

There are strange people outside. We won't talk about them.

Someone stole one piece of mail (a signed and sealed greeting card) from the outgoing mailbox. We don't know who, or why.

Staff member just asked me what a "diction-ologist" was. Wasn't I just talking about diction? Anywho, it's "ADDICTIONologist," someone who treats addictions. Close enough to be weird.

I open an ad to start working on it and find I need some information from the client. As I pick up the phone, an employee puts a piece of mail into my hand. The information I need is inside.

Today's brand of weirdness isn't bad, but it's still kinda creepy nonetheless.

I'm certain rehearsal will be... interesting. It would be interesting anyway. I'm prepared for it, artistically-speaking.

May I go home now, please? I'd really like a nap. And a lottery ticket.

*yawn*
  • Current Music
    someone's cell phone
rubbah and horns

~Zeeeeldaaaa Geek, what's that rule of which you speak? Could it be of it's and its apostropheeeee?~

The inverse posting law of Ldy: the busier she is, the more she posts.

I never intend this to happen, but there it is. And I'm freakishly-busy today.

I just taught my staff the difference between it's and its, complete with mimeographed Xeroxed handouts (partially-plagiarized, sad to say).

You'd think they'd have had this down pat. But they didn't. Never too old to learn, though. One tiny little rule of thumb, and now its (and it's) is theirs forever!

::massive cheering!::

Some people were born to be wild. Some were born to be great. I have resisted it all my life and with all my being, but I was born to teach grammar.

::cries::

The name's Geek. Ima Geek*.

Other geekish news... I bought a laptop case yesterday. It's actually a nice leather briefcase with a removeable laptop sleeve. It's almost too nice to bring on the plane (the purpose for which it was purchased).

More news... have to run home after work to grab the old script, so I can apply the cuts to the new script. Poo. I knew I'd forgotten something. Then I have to get gas, check the oil, and make a run for the border New Scotland. I should probably have some sort of plan in place for discussing my thoughts about the programme. Hahahahahahaha. No, really.

Less geekish news... I miss a friend an awful lot. But what can be done? Not a whole lot.

Thank you Dr. Seuss.

* not my real name.
  • Current Music
    ~Born to teach graaaaammer~
bluecat

(no subject)

so very tired and cold.

thought I'd be warmer once I got home, but it's cold here, too.

going to put on my warmest jammies and hope for deep sleep.

...right after I pet the fat warm cat that just jumped up on my lap :)

night night, lj. hope you are all cozy and happy.
  • Current Music
    random purrings