Tales from the Front Office

I have had worse jobs. The food industry, for example, can bite me. But managing a dentist’s office, I find, reminds me of the time during my spangled career when I managed the box office at a small regional theater. There is no ticket more attractive than the ticket you cannot buy, and people get very demanding when they cannot buy it. Much the same in the receptionist trade: as the year’s end approaches, and people must spend their cafeteria dollars, everybody’s got to see the dentist. I try to arrange them as best I can, with what small knowledge of procedures and the time they take I have gleaned. Mistakes are made. I’m still making them. Probably always will, as the laws of the universe dictate that everything shall happen as once, and the floor of my work area is pockmarked with the signs of the balls I have dropped.

Weighing heavily on my mind are the people in pain I cannot accomodate quickly; the best I can do is take their number and call them if a cancellation occurs before the time I was able to give them. I think I manage to get in about 75% of those people. The time spent playing Tetris in my youth has come in handy.

Hardly any wonder that after dragging home after nine hours in the trench I eat, wash dishes and go online to kill things. The catharsis is more than just nice, it has become necessary.

In the spirit of the holidays… and the office radio station has started playing Christmas music, three freakin’ days before Thanksgiving… let me give you some helpful hints for dealing with receptionists, and making the day far more pleasant for both of you.

It is considered bad form to look into the office and exclaim, “A man???!!! How the hell did you get stuck with this???!!!”

Similarly, it is likely not a good idea to tell the new guy what big shoes he has to fill, especially if the old receptionist told him that every five minutes during the day and a half of training he got.

The proper response to “The earliest we can get you in is Tuesday the second at 10AM” is not, “What do you have that’s earlier.”

If you ask, “What have you got this afternoon?” expect the answer to be “A lot of people who made their appointments long ago” or maniacal laughter.

If you call and launch into a long spiel about how much pain your child is in, and no other dentist will see him, and the receptionist moves the afternoon’s appointments and convinces the dentist and the assistant to stay late so they can attend to the wee tot after hours, “That’s no good, what have you got tomorrow” is not a good answer.

No, your insurance does not pay 100%. Either you are one of the lucky few who actually does have uber-insurance, or the dentist has been eating the difference between what he got paid and what was actually owed.

Or, as in my case, the current receptionist’s predecessor just threw away certain peoples’ bills. For years.

Similarly, when you are disagreeing about your bill, it is not a good idea to shout at the current receptionist that his predecessor always took care of it. Doing so will result in your opinion of the predecessor being severely challenged.

Rest assured that all remarks about how you’re glad the old receptionist is gone provide golden shafts of sunlight on a storm-wracked day.

Do not abuse the answering machine that provides you with the dentist’s home phone and cell phone number, particularly not to bully your way into a 7:30AM appointment when you feel the receptionist hasn’t given you a timely enough appointment, possibly by jettisoning some children or a needy senior citizen. Especially do not do this for a strictly cosmetic procedure. Or if you do, don’t be smug about it. The receptionist has a remarkably long memory. There are still people in third grade who are going to pay.

I’m just sayin’.

Yet Another Open Letter to the Coca-Cola Company

Dear Sirs,

Regarding your announcement that you will remove Vanilla Diet Coke from the market at the end of this year:

You bastards.

Sincerely,

Freeman Williams, Esq.

ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzz…

Okay, so I took stock of yesterday (my day off). And totaled up six extra hours of sleep. Six. That’s

• Two hours extra sleep while the Power Pug Princess muttered and snorted outside the bed room door.
• A three hour nap when exhaustion overtook me in the afternoon
• Going to bed an hour early.

I may never get anything done ever again.

Not entirely true. I did pay bills, go to the grocery store, and cook dinner.

Being an adult sucks.

But we knew that.

Also not entirely true, in the larger sense. Last Friday I had the pleasure of being that hour’s guest on Winnipeg Manitoba’s CJOB late night talk show, Nighthawk, when the subject was horror movies. Mostly I got to talk with host Geoff Currier until my head rattled, a few folks called in (and two nominated Pet Sematary as their fave, that was a surprise), and was sad to find the hour had ended so quickly. Geoff showed himself to be a Person of Superior Taste when he agreed with me that Videodrome and Eraserhead were two of the finest horror films of the 20th Century. Geoff said he hoped to hook up again, and I look forward to the opportunity.

Odd thing is, I likely owe that honor to something that has been a particular thorn in my side for some time. There is a section in my horribly torpid (heavy sigh) website, The Bad Movie Report, called The World’s Top 100 Horror Movies? This was a list some guy put together when the AFI was doing their “100 Greatest Movies of All Time” celebration. This fellow – his name and original website lost to antiquity – did an informal Web survey, and the resulting list was a terribly askew concoction. My page is a critique of that list and the taste of the people who had bothered to vote.

Not that you would know from the mail I get.

Somebody finds that page every three or four months, and posts it to a message board somewhere. I know this to be a case because I suddenly get a surge of e-mails informing me that I am an idiot and I really should know more about horror movies before I attempt to so a Website about them. This resulted in a box at the top of the list disclaiming any ownership the list, over and above what was already there in the preamble and subsequent commentary – not that this seemed to matter. My responses to these mails has, therefore, gotten more and more abrupt and acidic as time goes by.

But every time I make up my mind to delete the page, an opportunity like the radio show crops up to massage my ego. SO it looks like I had just better get used to being called an idiot. You’d think that, as I approach the half-century mark, I would already be used to that.

And you’d be wrong. Idiot.

Missing Time

So exactly where did today go?

Let’s see. Walked the dog. Nothing unusual there. Read news during first cup of coffee. Ditto. Performed routine maintenance on wife’s car “because it’s your day off”…

BINGO!

Not to mention fixing her computer. By which I mean rebooting it and then checking the WLAN monitor, which is all I can do on the scant instruction, “It’s not letting me do anything!”

Replied in an angry fashion to an e-mail from the dinner theater asking me to step in again. Reply was curt: “I quit over a year ago.” Whining is sure to follow, my acquiescence shortly thereafter. Already working a half-day this Saturday. Didn’t need the other half stolen from me in an unseemly fashion.

Took a nap. See previous post about the astounding amount of sleep I need these days.

Cooked dinner. Put together a Gundam model for my son, my arthritic fingers protesting over the manipulation of teensy parts. Evening now.

What didn’t I get done that I wanted to today?

Clean up home office. Can’t find my photo paper, and I need to print some photographs. Can’t find much of anything, really, unless it is in the Ring of Work and Play around my desk.

Write. I am way overdue in updating Attack of the 50 Foot DVD, and this weighs heavily on me. Especially having gotten through the entirety of The Bela Lugosi Collection.

At least I finally watered the front yard. That was becoming a bit of a fire hazard. And, considering all of Houston was up beyond 1AM last night watching the World Series, I didn’t have to drive to work through a pack of narcoleptics nodding off at the wheel.

More bulletins as they occur. I will find you, photo paper.

Up for Air, as it were

Discipline? I was kidding, right?

The return to a 9-5 (rather, 8-6 and beyond) routine has had some interesting results. First, I’m amazed at how much sleep I seem to need. Second, I was stunned when I added up my hours and discovered I was not working a 40 hour week, or more, which I had suspected. No, I have to admit that the combo of most Wednesdays off and a long lunch on Friday (the doc is the secretary of the local Rotary Club), conspired to give me a less than full paycheck.

But a paycheck, nonetheless. The creditors are a bit happier now. I still have electricity and the Internet, so I’m happier, too.

I’m a bit gobsmacked when I think of the folk who talk about surfing the Web at work – there is always something to do at the office, from the managing of appointments to the arguing with insurance companies (and how rich was my life before I became embroiled in that land of conflict) – I think I’ve had the time to be bored once in my tenure thus far.

The dynamic has changed a bit in the home life. Before, I cooked most of the meals, but now, coming home after 6pm, that’s rarely my job anymore.

And to be perfectly honest, my evenings have been taken up by one thing: beta testing the upcoming game City of Villains. Somebody must have me in mind when they were planning out this game, as I finally get to play a mad scientist with laser-armed robot minions. I’ll try to post a picture later.

There was supposed to be a massive beta event tonight, but being beta, it has been a long, drawn-out, buggy process. So here I am, weighing in. I am alive, well, and cursing the name of various HMOs, when I am not cobbling together robot pals. Who, you should know, are named Huey, Dewey, Louie, Tom Servo, and Croooooooooow.

Correction…

After posting, I did check out the second episode of Surface. Still don’t like it. My main point of contention is I can’t stand the characters. Being stuck in a room with any of the majors would result in my chewing through the walls just to get away.

The monsters are cool. And the last two episodes have had the best endings I’ve seen in some time (they at least got that part of the Lost equation right).

I can’t believe they had the cojones to rip off Ray Bradbury’s “The Lighthouse”, either. (Did I even get the name of that story right? SO tired….)

Discipline

For some reason, the only thing in my head for the past twenty minutes is StrongBad wheeling by on a unicycle, saying, “Hey! Way to work an eleven hour day!”

I believe I’ve mentioned before that my head can a very interesting place to live.

The office is fairly low-key but grinding (yeah, that’s sort of a dental joke). In at 8 this morning, out at 6:45. An actual day off Wednesday, and seemingly no obligations this weekend. Yet.

I’m hoping that this will give my flabby discipline the wake-up call it needs, now that the yammering bills clustered under my monitor are temporarily cowed. I have several need-to-dos hanging fire, and whereas before I could only say my time was at a premium, it is now the stone truth.

Besides the writing, I have a sound design due toward the end of November, which should provide little intrigue. The real problem gets to be the shows I’ve DVRed and now am uncertain when I’m ever going to watch them – last week’s Surface (just to make sure I really hate it), Threshold (missed because I got another “Help me Obi-Wan, you’re my only hope” call) and the new Night Stalker, for which I do not exactly have high hopes.

And all those damned movies stacked up behind me. Crap. Living by a schedule again – boy, I wish this would somehow make me feel young again, since it really reminds me of the days when I was working video production during the day and doing theater at night.

I’m still amazed that some people have the time to be bored.

I need to shut up now, because I’m rambling. Hi, StrongBad!

Change of Life

Just so you know: It seems I have a job.

Talk about things falling into your lap – turns out our family dentist needed an office manager. So, for the first time in, what? – twelve years? I find myself working a 9 to 5. Actually, 8 to 6.

This is going to take some adjustment.

Oooh, Anticlimactic

Yes, I’m still standing, so is my house, so is my neighborhood. I got a little wind, some rain. Did not lose power, which was a considerable surprise and relief. The worst effect was no sleep, as the wife did not feel safe sleeping upstairs, and I attempted to get some rest in my amazingly comfortable recliner – but it ain’t no bed, and the animals were severely freaked.

In all – we dodged a large bullet.

To get everyone’s mind off the approaching hurricane, I rectified a terrible error – my son was only familiar with the prequels, so we watched Star Wars (none of this “Episode IV” nonsense in this household). Despite his moans of “I don’t need to watch this, I’ve played the video game,” (damnfool kids!) he enjoyed himself very much.

Most of the sleepless night was spent watching a movie on my notebook, employing my noise-cancelling headphones (when I wan’t using my wireless network to keep up on the storm, that is). No, I didn’t break out The Bela Lugosi Collection as promised – though I need to – instead, I went for full-bore escapism and watched Troy instead. I found it surprisingly entertaining, even if these scions of Gladiator feel their progenitor’s need to rewrite history. Very well cast. I definitely recommend it if you’re waiting to get hammered by a hurricane – not a drop of rain anywhere in its dusty climes.

Thanks to the modern miracle that is bitTorrent, I didn’t miss last night’s episode of Threshold after all. I think the series is developing nicely, and will hopefully get to watch it next week in its native environs.

Now I have some crimefighting to catch up on. I’m sure all my non-Houston based City of Heroes compatriots have become gods in my absence.

The Cliche Before the Storm

Damn but that’s a big storm.

The preparations are all but finished – the last-minute stuff like taking a shower to cleanse off the rancidity of the last couple of days and filling the bathtubs thereafter still remain. The ache in every one of my injured joints is palpable now, seemingly radiating out from my body in pulses. Good thing I buy ibuprofen(tm) in bulk, since I haven’t seen an open store in two days.

I’ve mentioned before this isn’t my first hurricane. It is, however, the first time I’ve witnessed the ghost town effect.

There are still people stuck on the highways. I think back to yesterday when I was hearing , over and over again, that the evacuation was a success. Successful in that the low lying zones near the coast have emptied out, I suppose, but look for a lot of argument in the weeks to come about what a dog’s breakfast the situation on the evacuation routes has become.

I’m a nasty, vile little cynic, so there are two thoughts uppermost in my mind: in case of an actual terrorist attack, we are so screwed, and I truly believe the sound I keep hearing in the background is coming from the heads of many oil company executives, and that sound is ka-ching ka-ching ka-ching. I filled up Wednesday morning, and that paltry 10 gallons may have to last us a very long time. And when we are able to get more gas, it will likely be over $4.00 a gallon.

But these are things I will only say in this space, as my family deserves my brightest, bravest face. I called my parents, about 100 miles inland, on Tuesday night, just to talk to someone who wasn’t looking to me for guidance. My misgivings were much stronger earlier in the week, because if life has taught me anything, it’s that I have the amazing capacity to be wrong. Unfolding events have proven me right so far, but like everyone else in the region – damn, will I be glad when this is behind us.

Everything done, my wife and our neighbor are downstairs, watching Because of Winn-Dixie in this lull. I’ve put dinner in the slow cooker, enough for a couple of days if need be. I’ll probably be watching my new Bela Lugosi Collection this evening for a little escapism (looks like I won’t be watching the next episode of Threshold – all local stations are too busy saying the same damn thing over and over again, ie., “DOOOOOOOOOOOOOM stay tuned DOOOOOOOOOOM!“).

See ya on the other side,
– Freeman