, , ,

I mentioned the insulting dentist a few posts ago. What I didn’t mention is how expensive the work will be (and the insurance only covers part of it). I had models of both my upper and lower teeth done and then he told me what I would have to pay out-of-pocket – and up front. So I said I couldn’t manage it and left. On my way home I had a bright idea – and decided to go ahead. I called, left a message for the receptionist and told her not to trash the models because I was going to have the work done after all.

It took almost a week to get the funds and deposit them. On Friday, after breakfast and before the imaginary (and still gross-sounding) mint juleps and basketball, I went to the office to give them a check. The door was locked, but the receptionist was there. She opened the door and told me there were no doctors in that day. I told her I just needed to drop off a check. She told me she couldn’t take my money because she “didn’t know how.”  Obviously, she was new.

I called yesterday and gave the girl who did know how to take my money my card number. She made me wait several minutes and then came back to tell me the transaction was declined. Nooo! I called the bank and discovered that there’s a transaction limit on my card. Who knew?? I called again this morning, had the girl run my card and it was declined. Again. When I finally got that straightened out (I’ll spare you the details), she told me I could come in Friday to get the new models made. What new models?

Me: I just did that the last time I was there.
Dental chick: Oh, right, well … we didn’t keep them.
Me: Why not??
DC: We thought you weren’t coming back.
Me: It was THREE DAYS! It wasn’t even three business days, it was Friday to Monday!

When I talked to MoC later, she told me to relax.

MoC: These things just happen.
Me: No, they don’t.
MoC: Yes they do. Sometimes.
Me: No, they don’t happen to you.
MoC (guiltily): Well … you’re right, they don’t. But it could happen. It’s possible.

Yeah, and it’s possible the earth will fly off its axis, too, but it’s not bloody likely, is it?

But the universe had not punished me enough. Later that day, Bosshole ran across an article online about a transgendered man who became pregnant. This confused her, although once I read the article over her shoulder, it made perfect sense to me. Maybe I should be worried about my mental health.

Bosshole: It says here he got pregnant. But how?
Me: What? Who?
Bosshole: Some transgender guy. He took testerone (sic) and had his chest reconstructed but then he got pregnant.
Me: Oh. Great.
Bosshole: No, really. How could he get pregnant if he had the testerone and the surgery?
Me (seeing that the surgery was never completed): Um, do I really have to explain this?
Bosshole: It doesn’t make any sense. I mean, the sperm couldn’t go in from … you know.
Me: Isn’t there something in the employee handbook that says I don’t have to have this conversation with you?
Bosshole: I’m just trying to figure out …
Me: I’m calling your husband. Obviously you’re doing it wrong.