I have to come clean about some stuff here. Number one, as you know, well, some of you, I have no dental insurance. Like most merikans, that went away with my 9-9 job a couple of years back. So, when I was eating some air about a year ago, and my bottom left molar decided to collapse, I had to get a crown.
They call em crowns because the cost like $340,033,000.22, or they might as well cost that much since coming up with a grand out of pocket was about as likely as coming up with the $340 million.
Well, my dentist was nice enough to work out payment arrangements. I always like when they do that--and back during Web 1.0 I was even careful to make those payments. But then I learned during Web 1.0 that no one really meant all those good things they promised in return for working hard, so I realized that meant I could take my time paying off my creditors.
Which brings us back to the bitch at the dentist's office.
My crown fell off two weeks ago when I dared to bite into a milky way--we're talking the snack-size square which is 93-percent soft center--and me being in a client meeting did what you would do: I showed it to everyone.
That notwithstanding: After that I stopped by the dentist, to find he has a new receptionist, Ms. Bitcherella.
I show her my crown and I tell her jeez since I've only had it on like 10 months, can't she just stick it on there herself for me, like if I put my face through that little sliding window she can give it a good shove, and I can be on my way?
Well no, of course SHE has other ideas, like looking up my account balance so she could shame me.
Funny thing is, RageBoy was on the phone the whole time because I was jabbering to him on the drive back and I said, hold on, I have to see about my crown, and took him inside.
So Ms. Bitcherella fires up her PC and begins to show me, with more disdain than I rightly deserve, that I still owe $200 on my account, which had been at $1,200.
I am jubilent--that means I've paid off like $1,000 ! This is the best news I've had in weeks! I point at the screen and say: "Isn't that great--look how much I've paid you!"
But she sees it differently and keeps reminding me that I'm a useless deadbeat with teeth she could take back if she wanted to.
I hear RB laughing out of my phone's earhole. She stares at my cellphone. I think she thinks I'm up to something.
I'm all like: Please, understand here, I have paid you a lot of money--I'm good for the rest.
She's all like: We have a communication problem.
In the end I scheduled an appointment and left. In the car RB was wheezing: "That was like listening to two completely different conversations going on simultaneously. You're all about: 'look how good i did!' and she's all about 'you're a fucking looser.' HA HA HA!"
And I'm all "HA HAHA HAHAHAHHAAA!"
fastforward.
I had to call Bitcherella back to move the appointment when a client meeting came up.
She told me this was my last chance--she can't keep rescheduling the doctor's time this way.
I said if she wanted that balance, I had to take client meetings when I could: I have to bill to pay her. AND I told her I didn't like her attitude.
She told me she wasn't trying to give me an attitude but it was clear that I didn't want to pay the balance and that I should come in and get my crown fixed either way. Somehow she has this mock concern going on for me all of a sudden, and so I look over my shoulder to make sure she's not at my house.
I told her I'd think about it.
Then I said okay, Thursday, but don't think I'm giving you any money.
The moral of the story: I think I have them on the run.
