Free Parking

I started the morning with a full head of steam and headed on down to one of our local university hospitals to pick up the results of my recent bone density scan. You see, I called first and was told that they wouldn't fax the results to me because I hadn't signed the privacy policy/records release form. Annoying, but hey, it's for my protection right? We don't want a confusing set of medical documents that need to be interpreted by an endocrinologist floating around to unmonitored fax numbers. For God sake, someone may still have an old time fax machine that my sensitive records could spill out of. Oh the horror of all that curly paper revealing my inner most. OK, dead horse beaten, you get it. But really, why can't an identity thief steal the bad stuff too?

I showed up early, I requested my records and the helpful desk jockey did what she had been trained to do:

"Mr. Fogel, please take a seat."

So I scanned the massive waiting room -- think garage large enough for two Ford Excursions - for an empty seat, found one and shook up the room demographic a bit. Yee ha. I did get a nice opportunity to learn about the pregnancy of poor little, moneyed Jamie Lynn Spears. Seems to me that she has lost her right to choose, should she have wanted to exercise it. Once everybody knows, can you still, um, well, end your pregnancy? Maybe that is the solution.

So I sat and sat and sat and sat (guess the children's book that comes from and you will win a less than fabulous prize) and finally my name was called.

"Mr. Fogel, one problem (there were to be others), our system is down and they are just now trying to reboot it."

Can major city university hospitals reboot in the middle of the workday? Guess so.

Back to my seat and more entertainment news.

Finally, I was called up and who should I see but my nice tech who gave the panic-inducing wet read of my test three days ago.

"Hello, Mr. Fogel, nice to see you again," she intoned.

Lots of image this, and report hasn't been written that and finally she tells me no report has been written BUT even if it had, I don't get to see it. Time out. I called. I was told come down and sign the form and I would be heading back to my daily routine with my report in hand. Turns out, that wasn't really the case.

Immediately, I switched into the low, deliberate, but clearly pissed voice. "I spent an hour and a half here. I was told . . . Your system was down . . . My time was wasted . . . ."

"No problem, Mr. Fogel," a voice from behind the desk said.

I looked up to see a clearly clerical worker who wasn't a part of my conversation with Super Tech and she said "We'll give you a sticker, you are parked in the garage, right?"

"Um, yeah, I am, " says I.

"We'll give you a sticker so you don't have to pay for parking."

So, there I was, 90 or so minutes into this ordeal, my brain brimming with Jamie Spears knowledge (she puts out, but use your own protection because she doesn't use any) and no one cares about that, but they are going to give me free parking.

Oh well, it's better than nothing. At least I wouldn't be driving back to work pissed and out $6 for parking.

Free parking. Thanks.