Incompetence: The aftermath

I can honestly say that only two things get past all of my controls and shells: intentional weakness, and me (or someone close to me) suffering because of someone else’s incompetence.

And the incompetence really gets under my skin. I’ve got thick skin. Takes a lot to actually get a rise out of me. On top of that, I’ve got my temper nicely portioned into various responses: Irritated, frustrated, annoyed and angry.

Frustrated means that I shut up. Annoyed? I typically get snippy. Angry is when I get very sweet, very quiet, and very, very thoughtful.

Irritated? Oh, that’s when the legendary temper comes out. See, my mother’s parents both come from families infamous for their temper.

The Careys: Irish/English/Native America bootleggers, outlaws, ranchers, rednecks, conspiracy theorists, gun nuts. There are legends about their tenaciousness, hair-trigger tempers, and violent reactions. I kid you not.

The Gates family: Heh. Hehehe. Temper? Them? Noooo. More…pride. And the fury of annoyed aristocracy. Grudges and deep feuds are pretty common here.

Plus, I’m a red-head. I inherited my family’s temper…and then some. Lots of ‘some’. Let’s just say that I can, rather easily, make big, violent men back away. Or horses. I’ve back a young stallion down an arena because he pushed just a little too much. All it takes is body language and the right tone.

I’ve also learned how to have reaaaaaally good control, because it’s considered something of a fun game to try and piss me off. The fact that it doesn’t happen just makes them try harder. I’ve gotten to the place where I play back, just because, if I don’t, I WILL do something I regret. (The fact that these ‘games’ are played at work is the only reason that I haven’t ended them. I can’t afford to, when its people with more titles than little ol’ me.)

My irritation-meter is in the red right now. Way up on the red. The crap at work, the aftermath of family visits, travel, editing battles, a truck that is trying to bankrupt us, the potential of having to move next month…a little stressful.

And then the optometrist turns what should be an easy thing into an ordeal. I paid to not have my eyes dilated. He dilated them, thus liberating me of three useful hours on Deadline Day. He barely bother to examine my eyes. He was rude.

And then he gave me the wrong prescription. I’ve been suffering from that for a week. I’m seeing double, I can’t read, it’s causing headaches.

So, being the gentle soul that I am, I call to ask if I can get my prescription changed. I HAVE to do it with them, because I went ahead and bought a year’s worth of contacts so that I wouldn’t have to see them again. Heh. Yeah.

“Oh, you have to come back so that he can reexamine your eyes!” Bullshit. Stay the hell away from my eyes. Touch my eyes again, I’m calling the insurance agency and complaining about you. Give me crap, and I’ll call the BBB. I’ll stand for lots of things, NOT having my eyes screwed with.

“Oh, he’s here Tuesday, Thursday and Friday.” Oh, awesome. I WORK FOR TWO OF THOSE DAYS! And given the ridiculous amount of time that I spent sitting, waiting, last time, I can’t risk doing this before work. I wouldn’t make it to work on time.

“What’s the latest appointment you have?” 3:20. Oh. Awesome. Right in the middle of my day. The day after I get back from an event in Greensboro. Oh yeah, there’s the other lovely thing: I have the Writer’s Meetup event, and I’ll barely be able to see. This doesn’t bode well. (I have glasses, but they are strictly for indoors use. My eyes are almost vampirically light-sensitive.)

Ok, I’ll go in next week. And the good doctor and I are going to have a talk. He didn’t feel the need to examine my eyes last time, he just gave me the prescription that I thought I’d had. Therefore, logic states that he doesn’t need to examine them this time, either. The old ones worked just fine.

Did I mention that when I’m irritated, I develop definite mule-like tendencies? And that, when I’m irritated, I almost always get my way, rather quickly?

Hell, this might be kind of fun.

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3 Responses to “Incompetence: The aftermath”

  1. Well fun for you maybe. I doubt that the Dr. will see it that way when you are done with him.

  2. ladykuro Says:

    Oh dear. I’ll be waiting for the gore fallout.

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