Monday, November 27, 2006
Jay-Related Maintenance Continues
I went to the eye doctor today. This is a task that I always enjoy because it makes me feel smart. Where else can I get complimented simply for knowing how to read, except perhaps the NFL? Every time he asks me if "I think I can make out" a line of type I feel like a total genius for being able to do so, even if I do sometimes mix up C and G or, in one instance, A and V.
"Can you read that?" he asks, gently. "Good." Then he awards me with a tiny bottle of contact solution and a plastic lens container, I assume as prizes for my literary dexterity.
There were two new figures at my eye doctor's office today, though, who definitely bear mentioning. First, there was the Receptionist Who Is Amazed By Ordinary Things:
"Wow, is that really your last name?" she said. "That's great!"
"Man, there are so many S-C-H names in this computer," she mused. "Isn't that weird?"
"Oh geez, your social security number is only four digits off from mine," she exclaimed. "Who would have thought?"
I thought she might need to be sedated. Then, there was the Sarcastic Frames Guy, who simply did his level best to make me feel like a complete douche:
"If you're worried about the cost, it won't be extra with your insurance," he informed me on the subject of those lenses that turn to sunglasses when you go outside. I didn't know how to explain that I simply didn't want to look like my high school German teacher.
"All the designers are doing that now. That's the latest thing," he explained when I observed that three colors seemed to me to be about two too many for a pair of frames.
And then, my favorite:
"I can get those in a larger size if your head's too big."
Who says that customer service is dead?
I went to the eye doctor today. This is a task that I always enjoy because it makes me feel smart. Where else can I get complimented simply for knowing how to read, except perhaps the NFL? Every time he asks me if "I think I can make out" a line of type I feel like a total genius for being able to do so, even if I do sometimes mix up C and G or, in one instance, A and V.
"Can you read that?" he asks, gently. "Good." Then he awards me with a tiny bottle of contact solution and a plastic lens container, I assume as prizes for my literary dexterity.
There were two new figures at my eye doctor's office today, though, who definitely bear mentioning. First, there was the Receptionist Who Is Amazed By Ordinary Things:
"Wow, is that really your last name?" she said. "That's great!"
"Man, there are so many S-C-H names in this computer," she mused. "Isn't that weird?"
"Oh geez, your social security number is only four digits off from mine," she exclaimed. "Who would have thought?"
I thought she might need to be sedated. Then, there was the Sarcastic Frames Guy, who simply did his level best to make me feel like a complete douche:
"If you're worried about the cost, it won't be extra with your insurance," he informed me on the subject of those lenses that turn to sunglasses when you go outside. I didn't know how to explain that I simply didn't want to look like my high school German teacher.
"All the designers are doing that now. That's the latest thing," he explained when I observed that three colors seemed to me to be about two too many for a pair of frames.
And then, my favorite:
"I can get those in a larger size if your head's too big."
Who says that customer service is dead?
