Thursday, November 10, 2011

Epic Fail

A few special quotes:

Cat wrapped in bacon. 

I’ve had a backup plan my whole marriage.

Patented Emerga-Turd.

Heals On Wheels!

I love woody’s, they’re so fresh and hot! 

I’ve had woody’s three times this week!

Tasty Tidbit #1:  Smooth Criminal
            I bet the title alone made two of you laugh. 
Epic Fail
            I thought about calling this uber epic fail but I don’t know how to make my computer put an umlaut over the ‘u’.  How many times have you seen the word umlaut?  Kind of creepy when I look at it.  Makes me think of Oompa Loompa’s, which is also slightly creepy.  I think we need to move on.  So onto my current favorite subject…Dr. Socks.
            If I could punt kick this guy out of my life I would.  Since that’s illegal for some stupid reason, I guess I’m just going to cancel his show on ‘Ritas and Rants.  Thankfully we didn’t have a contract signed.  Let me back up to last Friday when I met the notorious Doc Sock at his new office.  There is no parking at this place.  You pull into the “lot” and end up trying to stick your vehicle into a teeny tiny space, between the building and a light pole, because that’s the only spot.  Not the only spot available, it’s literally the only spot.  After cramming my Jeep into this space I make my way inside.  I’m a customer service girl.  I expect excellent service, because when I am the one behind the desk or on the phone I am going to give excellent service. 
            This chick, and I use the word in the most demeaning way possible is filing her nails when I walk in.  Okay, you’re bored I get it no problem.  Might I suggest that when the customer comes in that you put the file down!  Or you could look at the customer, keeping in mind this is a mental health clinic, like they are interrupting your day and be rude.  Cause that would be awesome.  I sit down in one of the chairs that doesn’t have a messed up cushion (did I mention that this was his new office?) and get ready to wait, because Doc Sock likes to be late.  There are no pictures hung up yet and the walls are the same color as shrimp that was recently regurgitated.  Shockingly, Doc Sock shows up on time, dare I say early? 
            Two of the must have’s for every mental clinic is a reception area with a glass window and a locked door.  Once I am ushered through the locked door, opened of course by the PHD of Calf Grabbing, he takes me into his office.  Its two steps from the reception area.  The place is so tiny it’s like waiting in a walk in closet and walking into a broom closet.  The word I would use is economy.  Before we are even seated I’m catching a vibe from Doc.  As he sits down he grumbles that he hates these chairs and then he remarks that he doesn’t like the way the office is set up.  My guess is he was on the rag, but it’s only a guess.  The room is four walls of vomited shrimp without a single picture to block any of it.  It’s blinding.  All I can see is this disgusting color.  Is it necessary to say that it made me feel a little nauseous? 
            Now begins the shortest therapy session I have ever had in my life and one of the worst.  Although, lady that told me to have a baby because that would fix all my problems still takes first place.  After chatting for about five minutes about so of my more personal issues, Doc Sock gets frustrated.  Here’s a sampling of how the conversation went (as close as I can remember)

Doc Sock: “Well Sara, I’m not sure where to go from here.”

Me: Silence from me.  I’m thinking “If you don’t know where to go from here how the hell am I supposed to know.”

 Doc Sock: “I really think we should put you on the med board.  It takes two months to even get you an evaluation, plenty of time for you to back out.”

Me:  Still silent, now looking at my socks.  It’s clear this guy can’t or won’t help me all he wants is the drug company kick backs.  It’s disappointing.

Silence in the room for about a minute.

Doc Sock: “So what do you think about that?”

Me: “I don’t think so.  I told you I’m not interested in taking pills.”

Doc Sock: “Well I don’t know what else to do at this point.  I honestly think this would be the best way to go.”

Me: “I don’t want to take pills.”

Doc Sock: “Well then let’s schedule another appointment for a next week.”

Me (looking at him like he has a dick growing out of his forehead):  “I have an appointment set up for next week.”

Doc Sock: “Oh well then I guess we’re all set.”
There was a bit more to the conversation but not much.  I was in and out in less than twenty minutes though I feel confident that Dr. Socks did the right thing and charged my insurance for a full session.  After this depressing session, always great when you’re already depressed like hey it’s so bad my therapist doesn’t know what to do; I decided to cancel Doc Sock.  Oh and if you’re wondering why I’m calling him Doc Sock, it’s because he only gets one.  He doesn’t deserve a pair. 

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