Here's your sign.
Yesterday, I had to trek the 7 year old to his follow-up appointment with the allergist, who, in any future entries related to allergies, will be referred to as Dr. Hot and Sexy. Meow! This time, we went to a different office (here in Jersey people do all kinds of weird shit, and one of them is that physicians have multiple offices in different towns). This office happened to be very close to the hospital where my SIL is currently residing (after her Easter scooter accident). And let me just say, as an aside, that if I have to drive through the 70/73 circle ONE MORE TIME, like EVER, I'm probably going to puke out my car window while I do it. Gawd, I hate that fucking circle. 'Nother thing about Jersey: traffic circles. Could there BE anything more dangerous?
So, there we were, be-boppin' along, me and the 7 year old plus the 5 year old (for entertainment purposes only). We arrived at Dr. Hot and Sexy's office, and when we opened the door, there were literally so many people waiting, that I was surprised they didn't physically burst out through the doorway when we entered. There was actually only space in the entire waiting room for one of us to sit down. You can guess who that was. Cha, hello! (Raises hand). I sent the boys into the play area and went about my business. And by that I mean: People Watching.
I knew immediately that this one guy was going to do something interesting. I just felt it by looking at him and watching his demeanor. As he read his magazine (People), he wore a confounded look on his face. He paused every few minutes to look around the room as if he was trying to remember where he was, and what he was doing there. I nicknamed him Shaggy right away. He had long, stringy hair and a beard that was unkempt. He wore faded, baggy jeans that looked like they were about 20 years old. His shirt was worn to its very threads.
Eventually, Shaggy's name was called by the lady at the front desk. He approached her, but even as he approached, he looked confused, like "Did someone up here call my name? Is this where I need to go?"
Unfortunately for Shaggy, the lady at the front desk was not very tolerant. She demanded his insurance card. He fumbled with his wallet and muttered a few half-statements, "Is this.....? Do I need....? I don't know....". He eventually handed her a card. The lady pushed her glasses to her nose, bent her head toward the card, and quickly shot him a look of disgust. "This is your dental card."
Oh, poor Shaggy. He was embarrassed. I mean, he was pretty sure this wasn't a dentist's office! Right? Or was it? Maybe he was here to get his teeth cleaned. He wasn't entirely sure.
Front Desk Lady barked a few more orders at him as he produced what appeared to be a valid insurance card. Apparently, since his last visit, he was now covered under his wife's insurance, so extensive paperwork needed to be filled out, and this did not make Front Desk Lady happy AT ALL. She asked him a few questions, but they sounded more like commands.
FDL: How long have you had this insurance!
Shaggy: Uh.
FDL: Like 3 months, 6 months, a year!?
Shaggy: Huh. I'm going to say I think it's less than a year.
FDL: [Headdesk]
Shaggy hemmed and hawed over the paperwork, asking FDL a bunch more questions before finally announcing to her that he needed to ask his wife something. With the paperwork in hand, he loped back over to his (much older) wife, who was wearing a t-shirt printed with the name of a company, baggy gray sweatpants, and......crocs. Pink and yellow SWIRLED crocs. I didn't know crocs could get any uglier, but hooboy. Yeah, they can.
Shaggy and Croc Wife whispered back and forth for what I estimate was 3 solid minutes, with no resolution. I could tell by her body language that she had no idea what he was asking her. Finally, Shaggy rolled his eyes, shrugged his shoulders, put the look of mass confusion back on, and shuffled back up to the front desk. I watched with anticipation. I couldn't wait to hear what was going to happen next.
Shaggy stood about a foot away from the counter, as if he had already developed a fear of FDL (and rightly so, sheesh, that woman scared me a little bit too when I tried to ask her where the bathroom was). Finally she acknowledged him with a peer over her glasses and a sigh that said "What can you possibly want NOW?" Shaggy hesitantly stepped up to the counter, with the paperwork extended in front of him like a shield. He was pointing to a specific question on the page.
Shaggy: I'm sorry. My wife and I just can't figure out what this means.
FDL: [pinches mouth tightly and glances at paper]
By this point I was literally on the edge of my seat.
Shaggy: "Subscriber name?" What? Who? I don't get it.
FDL: [tries not to self-combust] THAT'S. YOUR WIFE'S. NAME.