Enough To Make You Grind Your Teeth

, , , , , | Healthy | January 27, 2018

(I’ve been going to a dentist clinic for a few months. I love the place and the staff; they’re considerate of the expensive costs of treatments, they’re friendly, and they take the time to explain options. The moment I get dental insurance from work, I become a regular patient to fix all the little things I’ve been putting off. Sadly, for some reason, the dentist turnover becomes high. At this point, I’ve seen four different ones already. I’ve had all my repairs done, got a mouth guard for grinding my teeth, and am just finishing a yearly cleaning.)

Dentist #1: *who I’ve never had before* “Well, everything looks good on your x-rays. We’ll see you in six months!”

(A month later, I’m back with a pretty infected tooth that requires a root canal treatment. Yet another dentist, the first male one I’ve encountered, greets me.)

Dentist #2: *cheerfully* “How are you?”

Me: “Well, I’m here because I’m in a lot of pain, so—”

Dentist #2: “Oh, no. You’re doing well!”

(I’m a bit annoyed that he would tell ME how I’M doing, but I let it go. He starts the procedure, after pressing his belly into the back of my head twice while looking for tools and not apologizing. Towards the end, there is terrible pain, which I had not been warned about in any way. I’m crying and upset by the time I get out, just in a hurry to leave that place. It hurts more than the tooth did before he did anything to it. Because my insurance is almost maxed out for the year, I end up paying several hundred dollars for the procedure. And we’re just in May. A week later, the temporary seal, which I was not told was temporary, starts coming off while I eat. I had been told I would need a crown, but since nothing else was explained, I thought I was good to go until the following year, having told them about the insurance being maxed. I see [Dentist #3], who says I should get a screw and a crown, and nods when I explain I have to wait, as I don’t have $1,500 to pay for it. She puts a white filling over the tooth in the meantime. The clinic calls me three times for me to get an appointment for the screw and crown, the third one in November. I explain the insurance thing to the receptionist, and schedule an appointment in January. A week after the November call, my gums around that tooth begin swelling when I eat, so I go back.)

Dentist #4: “The filling has just slightly been dislodged, so it’s rubbing against your gums. We’ll fix it for free, since we have a warranty on repairs.”

Me: “When was the last time I came for a cleaning?”

Dentist #4: “In mid-April.”

Me: “And when did I come back with an infected tooth?”

Dentist #4: “In May.”

Me: “Is it really possible for [Dentist #1] to have missed a tooth that ended up infected a month later? She did take x-rays.”

Dentist #4: *is silent for a while, looking at the computer, then, slowly* “Yes, it’s not visible on them.” *points vaguely to the x-rays, which I obviously have no knowledge to interpret*

Me: “Okay. Also, the dentist who performed the root canal treatment didn’t warn me about the pain, and didn’t explain that the seal was temporary.”

Dentist #4: “Well… sometimes when dentists explain all the procedures and costs needed, it scares the patient.”

Me: *in shock* “Well, that’s dishonest.”

Dentist #4: “I understand that you don’t like it.”

(I leave after the repair a bit shaken. Before I leave I ask her to confirm that my $800 mouth guard will not have to be replaced after getting the crown, as I was told by another member of the staff that this might be necessary. The next evening, [Dentist #4] calls and leaves a voicemail.)

Dentist #4: “Hello, I’m calling to set up an appointment for the screw and crown. Please call back.”

(Nothing was said of the mouth guard, and the message disregarded the fact that I HAD an appointment set in January already. I couldn’t call back that evening. The next morning, at 11, I got a call from the receptionist, asking me again to make an appointment! I asked her to cancel the one I had in January, and not to call again. Surely other clinics have staff that have it together.)

Getting Into A Jumble-aya

, , , , , , , | Working | January 25, 2018

(I go to a restaurant with my family for no special occasion other than no one wanted to cook. When we get there, we sit down, and our waitress takes our drink orders and returns with them very quickly. Most of this conversation takes place in French, but I will translate.)

Waitress #1: “What can I get you today?”

Mom: “Soup and salad.”

Sister: “Cactus chips—” *thick potato chips with a spicy dip* “—and a jambalaya, but with gluten-free noodles, please.”

Waitress #1: *missed the gluten-free part* “Okay, would you like garlic or cheesy bread?”

Sister: “No, gluten-free, please.”

(The waitress make a correction on her pad.)

Waitress #1: “Oh, yes. Sorry.”

(I know I will mispronounce the name of what I want in French, so I just point to the picture.)

Waitress #1: “Okay, perfect.” *leaves to put in the order*

(The waitress brings the cactus chips and my mom’s soup with no problem. It is when the main course arrives that things get funny. [Waitress #2] brings our food. My sister is given gluten-free noodles with some mystery sauce on it. It is clearly not her jambalaya.)

Sister: “I ordered a jambalaya with gluten-free noodles.”

([Waitress #2] is confused, but takes it for the correction.)

Waitress #1: *comes out after being informed of the mistake, while filling water glasses at another table* “Oh, I am so sorry. It is my fault; I entered it in wrong.”

Sister: “Oh, it’s okay. We understand the mistake.”

(The waitress sees my mom’s nearly empty lemonade glass. It looks a bit like ice water and not lemonade, and the waitress fills it with her water pitcher. While filling she realizes her mistake.)

Waitress #1: “This wasn’t water, was it?”

(We all lose it and burst out laughing. My mom tears up from laughing so hard. While we compose ourselves, the waitress replaces her drink.)

Waitress #1: *with the new lemonade* “I am so sorry, again.”

Mom: “It is okay; that was hilarious! We do understand. But it is getting late and we have to go; can you put that jambalaya directly into a to-go container for us?”

Waitress #1: “Sure.”

(Later, [Waitress #2] is trying to help her colleague and brings out the jambalaya. We are trying not to laugh at this waitress, and when she leaves we just snicker about the new mistake. [Waitress #1] returns to the prep area, sees the food is missing, and hurries to our table.)

Waitress #1: “Sorry, when I went in for your food it was already gone. I will take it and put it in a to-go container for you.” *takes the food and leaves*

Me: *when the waitress returns so we can pay* “Don’t worry. You know, there is always that one table where, no matter what you do, nothing goes right.”

Waitress #1: *relieved* “Yes, and unfortunately it was you guys, today.”

(While paying we told her some other mishaps that happened to us in other restaurants, like the time I had a ketchup bottle explode in my face. We left her a nice tip. We are calling this outing the comedy of errors. We want this waitress again; I mean, you can’t beat this two-for-one special: buy food get a free show.)

Very Bad Reception, Part 21

, , , , | Healthy | January 18, 2018

(There is a small medical clinic where I live. Usually, for walk-in patients, you get to the door very early, wait until they open it, then head for the desk, where you are assigned an appointment time for the day depending on the order of arrival. Usually, people behave and do not jump forward. Rarely, but sometimes, the clinic isn’t full, and going in mid-morning, you might still get a spot. It’s about 11, and I feel I might have a feminine infection. I stop by the clinic to see if there’s room.)

Secretary: “I’m sorry. There’s a new phone system in place. Now you have to call in the morning and leave your name and phone number. Someone will call you back with the time of your appointment.”

Me: “Well, I’m right here. Can’t you just give me a time?”

Secretary: “No, you have to call.”

Me: “Okay, fine.”

(I make two steps to the side, pick up my cellphone, take the card she gave me with the phone number, and start dialing. The secretary looks at me.)

Secretary: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Calling for an appointment. You said I absolutely had to call.”

Secretary: “Ugh… Okay, I’ll give you one.”

(I believe she suddenly realized that I would have left my info on the answering machine, that she would have listen to it, then call me back with the time, all while I was standing in front of her.)

Related:
Very Bad Reception, Part 20
Very Bad Reception, Part 19
Very Bad Reception, Part 18

Unfiltered Story #102196

, , | Unfiltered | December 26, 2017

(I work in a college bookstore where and we are working on shelving books for the fall semester. Two girls come into the store, one is blind and being led by the other.)

Me: Hello, Can we help you?

Leading girl: Yes we were hoping we could get her books for the next semester.

Assist. Mgr: Does she have her book list?

Leading girl: No but I know the books I had the same courses before. We need [book #1], [book #2] and Visualizing Physiology.

(The transaction goes smoothly from here and I return to my shelving, but I had to bite my tougne to not risk insulting the blind girl by saying, “Please tell me that the irony of the third title is not lost on you guys.” This is not intended to be an insult to the visually impaired, but irony just doesn’t get much better than this.)

He’s Bringing Home A Nine

, , , , | Friendly | December 4, 2017

(This takes place years ago, in college. I am renting a three-bedroom apartment with two other guys. My best friend and I are sharing the master bedroom, so we can rent the last bedroom to a fourth guy to save money. One of the numerous people who rents that room is a very good-looking guy that studies law, has everything paid by his parents, and obviously doesn’t have to work. All his free time is spent going to bars and pubs and bringing back women. When he does this, he always makes a show of presenting us by name and making us shake hands with his flavor of the week [if not day], and then he simply slips off to his bedroom that is, fortunately, very well sound-isolated. While we’re washing the dishes:)

Friend: “You know, I used to love Fridays, but now I know I’ll have to meet yet another ephemeral woman that will steal my coffee tomorrow morning.”

Me: “I’m wondering if he’s trying to rub it in our face, even though I don’t care.”

Friend: “What? You don’t care?”

Me: “Honestly, if I was good-looking, rich like he is, and I didn’t have a girlfriend, I would probably do the same. No, what gets to me is the fact he’s NEVER brought back the same woman twice, AND he always has to present that person to us as if he’s looking for an everlasting bond going forward.”

Friend: “That’s what I’m saying! Look, he’s been here, what… a month, maybe five weeks? And he’s already at the eighth woman.”

Me: “Oh, I hadn’t counted. Mmhh, so tonight would be the ninth?

Friend: “Yes.”

Me: “…I think I’ll just stay in front of the computer tonight and play games.”

Friend: “Good frigging idea. I’ll just sit in bed to read a book instead of being in the living room. I don’t want to see him tonight.”

(The subject dies and I start playing my video game on our PC in our bedroom. The game is online, competitive, and intense, and requires pretty much all of my concentration. The guy in question enters the apartment. Unfortunately, the bedroom door is ajar and the front door is in line with our door on my left. My roommate is reading on the bed behind me, away from view. The guy heads toward me with a girl in tow, but I haven’t even noticed they are here because I have headphones on.)

Guy: “Hey, [My Name], I want you to meet [Girl]. She’s—”

Me: *playing and totally in the zone* “Yeah, yeah… Hi, Number Nine.” *halfheartedly waves left hand to them, barely even looking*

(A moment ticks, then my head jerks up upon realizing what I just said and did. I turn my head slowly to the left to meet their gaze, mouth agape trying but failing to find something to say. She has a perplexed look on her face, but he lunges angrily to close our bedroom door while staring me dead in the eyes.)

Friend: *trying not to laugh* “…‘Hi, Number Nine?’”

Me: “I was… He… It came out on its own. I didn’t… I would never…”

Friend: *laughs loudly enough for the whole building to hear*

(I put some clothes on and fled the apartment to my girlfriend’s to avoid him at all costs. The guy told us he would be looking for another place during the weekend, and left the place at the end of that month. I don’t think I would have been able to come up with an objection even if I wanted to.)

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