I know I've shared with you the story of the locker room door, but if I haven't, I will do a quick sum up. When I was nine or ten, I went to the YMCA with my cousin, let's call him Tad. Tad was one of those guys who was friends with a lot of girls, so it wasn't a problem for me to go into the locker room with his friends, with the understanding that I would meet him at the pool when we had all changed.
I got changed before the rest of the girls, and I went to find the door to the pool. I couldn't find it anywhere in the locker. I asked and they all said, "It's through there."
"No," says I, "Because all that's through there are showers."
This exchange went on for a bit, and I stubbornly refused to follow the girls to the door which they swore led to the pool. In fact, i was so adamant about not following them, they had to bring Tad in to the girls' locker room so he could show me that yes, the door led to the pool.
I use this story a lot to sort of explain moments in every one's life where we hit an obstacle of some sort and, no matter how small the obstacle or how simple the solution, we simply cannot get through that locker room door.
I told you that story so that I can tell you this one:
Friday is Elsie's day off. We very much enjoy the peace and quiet and non crazy on Fridays. In fact, this Friday was especially quiet because PM was out filling in for one of the install guys and NBM was contemplating how much fun he was going to have at the Wisconsin Badger game on Saturday.
Something else about Fridays you should know: While it is Elsie's day off...she is never too far from our minds because the woman calls the office no less than three times EVERY SINGLE FRIDAY. Show of hands, how many of you call your workplace on your day off...on every day off?
That's what I thought.
So Elsie calls, and I wind up picking up the phone. This is apparently her third or fourth call of the day and NBM and PM no longer taking her calls.
"Hello Sarah, it's me," she says halfway through the phone greeting I'm contractually obligated to say. "I want to talk to someone about our non-existent vision insurance."
Knowing NBM and PM have already spoken to her and knowing that we are busy, I bite the bullet and chat with her. "So what's up?"
"I went to the eye doctor and they said I wasn't covered. And can I tell you something? (her favorite phrase) This insurance is terrible because it doesn't cover anything I need. And this company is trying to rip us off by not taking care of us, so I'm going to have to think about finding a different job is this is the insurance they are giving us."
In my mind I'm thinking...right...you're sixty, you're a nit wit, and you can't get through a sentence without making that weird, loud throat clearing noise. There's a GIANT job market for ya out there.
I'm also thinking...SAY NOTHING. This is your opportunity!
But, as we all know, I spend a lot of time NOT hurting people. So, I say, "You know...that's weird because Peaches had an eye check up and they paid for EVERYTHING except the actual contacts."
Elsie was quiet for a moment, breathless, probably, from her rant. "Wait...so our vision isn't paired with our dental?"
I don't have dental through the company. I have vision and medical, and Elsie, in a moment of clarity, remembers that. "Right. You use your medical card for vision."
"Oh, well that explains it. I gave my eye doctor my dental card and he said I wasn't covered. Well, so you think I'm covered?"
"Yes, I know you're covered."
|Actually, the resemblance is shocking.|
The whole conversation reminded a bit of the old Saturday Night Live "weekend update" where the glorious Gilda Radner, as her alter ego Rosanne Rosannadan, went on a rampage about "violins on TV." She was gently reminded that she was arguing against "Violence on TV." Her response?