Possumblog

Perturbated Tuesday Returns!

And boy, are there a lot of perturbed people out there! Including me, although when comparing my perturbationary status with that of the people I’ve had the malfortune to meet today, it’s really not that bad. Not that it will stop me from kvetching anyway.

You are all free to post in the comments below the things that have gotten your goat so that you may cleanse your system of such harmful bile. As always, we ask only that your expletives be cloaked by the less vulgar &*%%$ (or maybe even *!+&#((@~) and that guilty parties remain nameless.

The airing of my grievances follows below the jump--

First up, I wonder why it is that we have a person who has been using a laptop and projector for several years now, yet for some reason STILL can’t figure out that the big cable from the back of the computer to the projector has to be plugged into either the terminal that says “Computer 1” or the one that is labeled “Computer 2.” One would think after the first several hundred times you hooked it up wrong and your chubby, bespectacled co-worker had to heave a great sigh and point out that the cable does NOT go into the port marked “Monitor Out,” that you would have grown tired of appearing to be so grossly inept. One would think.

*&^%line.

And just what is the deal with people who are late for no other reason than it’s simply part of their character. They know how to be on time, because you’ve seen them do it. But for the most part, they PLAN to be at least five or ten minutes late to every meeting. Could be drooling on the desktop reading a romance novel, but by golly just still can’t tear away from it five minutes early in order to not inconvenience someone else. Of course, it is kinda sweet when said Psychotically Late Person shows up for a meeting and is detained herself because the Guy Who Doesn’t Understand Cables is having difficulty with his flow of electrons again. Hee. Or rather,

!@#$*daw.

But that was all yesterday, so I don’t know if it should count toward The Tuesday Vexation Show.

So, I’ll add some for today. You know what irks me? People who can’t quite figure out where they’re going on a confusing hospital campus. Especially those who get halfway down a driveway to enter a parking deck, then decide it’s the wrong one and they’d better turn around and go back out before going into the deck. Of course, when I DID decide to turn around, there was no one around for several streets, so a three point turn in the amply-wide driveway should actually not have been a convenience to anyone, in that it is a maneuver that is quickly completed.

Unless.

Unless you have a Crazy Lunatic Psycho Old Coot Ford Crown Vic Driver who, even though he must have seen you turning around when he first entered the driveway, and despite the fact that NONCRAZY people would just have sat there and waited five seconds for the humble Volvo in the driveway to complete its turning maneuver--despite all that--he INSISTS on continuing to drive straight for your rear bumper as if he is going to simply ram you out of the way. I was busily sawing the wheel to the left to finish turning and loudly and slowly said through my (closed) window, “W O U L D Y O U P L E A S E S T O P!” I did not call him an **&^%, but I wanted to. And a ja&^%!.

But I’m better than that.

As for the doctor’s visit, my goodness--quite a lot of peeved people today.

Reba’s appointment was for 9:30, and we didn’t get out of there until around 11:15. (By the way, they still can’t quite figure out why she has these roaming feelings of numbness and nerve pain. *&^%) While I waited, there was one woman who began to loudly complain to the counter staff that she’d been there for two hours and hadn’t seen anyone and she’d gone to the emergency room and they told her she might have had a stroke and she needed to see her doctor and she was in PAIN and needed to see someone RIGHT THEN.

You know what? I think by now, several decades after the invention of the telephone, that I would call before I just show up at my doctor’s office, just to make sure they could see me. Second, if I’d gone to the emergency room and they told me I might have had a stroke, I really don’t think they’d just send me home and tell me to call my doctor, unless they were just trying to get rid of me because I was crazy. Finally, if I’d had a stroke, and was again loudly complaining that I couldn’t move my whole left side, that it would be much more convincing if the left side leg didn’t work quite so well, it being part of that whole left side that is supposedly immobile. They finally got her back just to shut her up.

I think they were both pretty much saying &*^%.

The whole office management system seems a bit suspect, though, because there were at least three or four other people who came in during the course of the time I was waiting to complain about misdirected appointments, unreturned pharmacy calls, insurance and billing errors. No one said *@!#%it, but I was getting worried that they might pull out a *&^%$.

As for the wait, eh. I’ve had to wait placed before, and so I read the paper and snored. I do have one peeve--the choice of reading matter was very slight--the newspaper, a copy of Parenting, various medical literature about dropsy and pellagra--and oddly enough, the June 2006 issue of Maxim with an chestnut-haired Jessica Simpson on the cover. I’m not quite sure the clientele really appreciated it, seeing as how I was the youngest person to show up the entire time, with the rest of the persons looking less like they needed to peruse a lad-mag and much more like they needed a ventilator.

SO, anyway, what’s irking YOU today?

Posted by Terry Oglesby at October 10, 2006 12:20 PM