Tag Archives: incompetence

Being Pissed Off Seems To Be My Current and Long-Standing Mood

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I’m just about ready…no I take that back. I am ready to punch someone in the throat. Ok, so I won’t act on my urge to do that but still…

Early this month, I ordered refills for 2 of my medications. The 2 that I need the most. They are for nerve pain and pain/inflammation. It’s a struggle for me to go out when I need to go pick them up so the pharmacy mails them to me. The pharmacy provides this service at no charge to me and I appreciate that but I also appreciate receiving my meds in the mail when they are shipped out! This month, those 2 meds were lost in the mail. This is not an isolated incident.

This happened a few months back, too. I had to get an emergency script for one of my meds because I am not supposed to stop taking them abruptly. When I did, I experienced sleep disturbances. I did not want to do that again!

This pharmacy was good in the beginning. I had absolutely no problems with them. Then all of a sudden, there was a little issue, then another…and another. When I complained to them (and I did it nicely) they always had some excuse. Blah, blah, blah. There’s one thing I can’t stand (aside from liars and thieves and DJT) and that’s incompetence. Just do your fucking job, will ya? I asked them for a tracking number so the USPS could help me locate the package and I was told that they don’t keep track of the tracking numbers and that they aren’t responsible once packages leave the pharmacy. Ok, I get that. But I never had an ounce of trouble with Walmart when they sent my meds in the mail. Never once in many years did anything get lost in the mail.

I transferred my meds to a different pharmacy. Old pharmacy didn’t send them all over. Figures. Incompetence. Between me and the new pharmacy calling both the clinic and the old pharmacy, we finally got them all transferred. But I still had a problem. Since those 2 meds were already filled this month I couldn’t refill them again unless I paid for them myself. I was trying to avoid that because I’m on a fixed income.

I called the clinic and tried to explain the situation to the nurse on duty but she was fixated on the scripts being transferred to the new pharmacy. I told her to “forget about that for a minute and listen. This is a separate issue!” I tried to explain that I am rationing those 2 meds, which I shouldn’t have to do. (Thankfully, I had some extras that accumulated because I order a few days early each month.) I was nearly out and in a fucking panic because I cannot function without those 2 meds! I wasn’t getting through to her so I told her “neverfuckingmind” and I hung up. So much for getting an emergency script! I called the new pharmacy and they said I could order the refills early but I’d have to pay out of pocket. I was trying to avoid that but ok, if I have to I have to.

I picked my meds up the following day. It cost me over $50! I’m hoping this new pharmacy is competent and that I have no problems with them. So far, they are happy to help and do what they’re supposed to do.

I swear, I am in this constant state of “WTH is going to happen now?” or “Can’t anything be easy?” or “Everyone can just suck the big one.” I anticipate having problems and I’m pleasantly surprised when things go smoothly. However, I stay cautiously satisfied. Does that make sense? It is rare that things go smoothly.

Hearing DJT on what I refer to as Trump TV, is nauseating at best. I can’t stand the sound of his voice. I can’t stand his face. He makes me so angry and it automatically sets my mood into an ugliness that I can’t even stand. If I could just get Dad to watch something besides the news…

Spit It Out, Will You??

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Last month, Dad and I went to the Health Department to get our updated Covid-19 vaccinations. Things went well. There was no delay in being called back. The ladies in the office and the nurses giving the vaccines were on top of things. We were ready to leave when Dad spies a sign that read, “Get Your Shingles Vaccine Today.” He and I both need to get it done so I inquired at the window. Another nurse was called up to the window to answer my inquiry. Her name was Becky and I assumed she would be competent. I assumed wrong!

First, she asked for our insurance cards to check if Shingrix was covered. It took her 40 minutes to come back and tell us that Dad’s would be covered but my insurance wouldn’t cover it. The way she spoke annoyed the crap out of me. It was like she needed a smack on the back of the head to spit it out. She was really trying my patience. (And I really don’t think it was a speech impediment because I heard her talking to one of the other nurses without trouble.)

Finally, after having to concentrate on what she was trying to say, I understood that the state-provided vaccine would be free for me. Okay, that’s great because I can’t afford $200 a pop…and there are 2 flippin’ vaccines 6 months apart! So, off Becky went to see about available appointments. Well, guess what? They didn’t have any state-provided Shingrix vaccines. Did she check to see when they would be getting more in? No. She had to go back and check. She came back and said she didn’t know when they would be getting more in but that I should check back periodically. She then said she would go back to see when they had available appointments for Dad. She should have done that already when she said was checking the first time! Then she came back and asked me to come to her office to see when a good time would be. Holy crap. Her desk was a disaster area! I don’t know how anyone could do their job with a desk in that condition!

Anyway, I made the appointment for Dad to get his first Shingrix vaccine. Becky told us again that the state-provided vaccine would be free but she didn’t know when they would get more in. She said she would try to find out and call me. After an hour and 20 minutes, we finally got out of that place! (The first 10 minutes were smooth sailing!)

Becky tried to call us several times in the following week. Dad answered the first time but she couldn’t speak up and spit it out so he hung up on her. (I assumed it was her, perhaps it wasn’t.) The next time she called I answered and after every 3 or 4 words she would stop and say, “Can you hear me?” I was getting so damn annoyed that I finally yelled, “Yes. I can hear you! What do you want?!” Then dial tone. She hung up on me. I hoped she wouldn’t call back. I told Dad if the phone rings again, don’t answer. Just let her leave a voicemail.

The following week, she called and we weren’t home so she had no choice but to leave a voicemail. She stuttered and stammered through the entire message and told me absolutely nothing that I didn’t already know! Her phone call was a waste of time. If I had been home to answer the phone, I would have told her that!

Things like that really get under my skin! I expected a nurse to tell me that we were or were not covered by our insurance, and then make appointments to get the vaccine. I expected to be told what I needed to know in a timely manner. Being disabled and in constant pain, I do not have the patience or energy for such bullshit.

I used to be a very patient person. Over the years, as my chronic pain and mobility issues advanced, my patience went out the window. I don’t like phone calls or incompetence. I loathe having to deal with people. I despise red tape and bureaucratic bullshit. We all have those things to contend with but I just can’t handle it anymore.

The Ex-Files – The Paint Job

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CP was known to take on odd jobs, from replacing a carburetor to painting houses to doing a complete overhaul of a car’s engine. One time, being the “Jack of all trades” that he thought he was, he took on the job of painting a car.

He told a guy that he could paint his car for half of what the professionals quoted him. He said that would include banging out the dents, the whole 9 yards. Please understand that CP did not have his shop at this time. Where was he going to paint this car?

The guy took a chance – I can’t tell you why, other than he wanted to save some money. I had never seen a car that CP painted, nor had I ever heard of a car that he painted. I had a bad feeling right from the start.

CP took 6 weeks just banging out the little dents, that seemed to get worse as he fucked with them. I saw him sanding and buffing and whatever the hell he was doing, on our front lawn. He stripped the existing paint and got it ready to be primed. That car was an eye sore from the moment CP got his hands on it because we had a big picture window in our living room, which overlooked – you guessed it – our front yard. For 6 weeks, CP went out after he got home from work and on the weekends, but mostly the weekends because he was too tired during the week.

He proceeded to prime the car, sand a few rough spots and of course, this took him a few more weeks. So, now the owner of this car (if memory serves me correctly, it was a Mustang) has been waiting for 2 months for his car to be painted.

He finally finished prepping the car for paint, and I thought to myself, I wonder where he’s going to paint it? Well, take a wild guess. If you guessed our front yard, you are absolutely correct! In our front yard, right under the tree. Now, I know nothing about painting cars but any dumb fucking idiot could probably tell you not to paint it a) outdoors, b) under a tree, or c) when the wind is blowing. I guess he thought he could outsmart the wind, the birds, leaves, bugs and any other debris falling from the tree.

To my utmost horror, CP began painting that car, a very pretty blue, I might add, and even though the wind wasn’t blowing, there was just enough air movement to cause a problem. By the time he finished spraying that car, there was over-spray almost everywhere and bits and specks of this and that all over that damn car! He thought it looked great but it was a disaster. I felt bad for the owner of the car!

The car sat overnight, thereby collecting more bits and specks of this and that from the air and from the tree. After a few days, he called the owner of that poor Mustang and told him it was finished. I was mortified.

The owner came, looked at the car, and although I was in the house I could tell by his expression that he was not happy. Who in their right mind would be happy about such a shitty paint job? CP gave him excuses about not having a place indoors to paint…blah, blah, blah. I was so embarrassed to even know CP at this point I didn’t even dare let myself be seen by the owner of the car. I wonder if he asked CP why the hell he took on the job if didn’t have a place to paint inside? I guess I’ll never know!

Needless to say, CP didn’t get paid for that job. The only thing the owner of the car paid for was the paint. I’m surprised CP wasn’t sued over the whole thing but honestly, I think the owner of the car never wanted to see CP’s face or hear his name ever again!

Image by Folgt bitte meinem Account: Elionas from Pixabay

Talking To Aliens

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Have you ever had to call or email customer service and felt like you were talking to aliens from another planet? This happens to me all the time! I used to think it was just me. Me, being the problem; that perhaps I wasn’t expressing myself properly or maybe I was leaving out words or important details. Nope. It is NOT me.

Many years ago, we had one of those humungous satellite dishes and hadn’t had a problem with it for years. Then one year, we lost our signal. I called customer service. They directed me to call the installation department, and so I did. After briefly explaining the issue and what I had done to troubleshoot the problem, they transferred my call back to customer service. I hadn’t had the chance to tell them that customer service directed me to them. I explain again to customer service because I was speaking to someone different. They said I needed to call the technical department. They gave me the number and I called. I explained the issues again and this foreign-accented man asked me if the television was on. I’m like, “Um, yes. How else would I know if I was or was not getting a signal?” He guided me through the troubleshooting process even though I explained I had already done that. I followed him through the steps, and then in all of his wisdom he declares, “You need a tech-nee-shan!!” I said, “OMG. Are you serious? That’s why I’m talking to you!” I was so disgusted from spending the last hour on the phone and getting nowhere that I just hung up. Not too long after that, we replaced our humungous satellite dish with a smaller one from Dish.

Another example: I had a credit with a company because they had discontinued something that I had ordered and paid for. I couldn’t find any information on the website or in my account regarding using that credit, so I emailed customer service. I explained that I had a credit coming to me and I asked, “How do I apply that credit to my next order?” I was flabbergasted when the answer I received was how to login to my account. I emailed again stating that logging into my account was not the issue and explained again. This time, I got some other stupid answer that had nothing to do with my issue! After several tries, I sent them a rude and to the point email about how the company needed to hire competent people. It wasn’t long before I received an email from a manager, who apologized and that he didn’t know what the problem was with the two reps but that he knew what I was asking and understood my frustration. He solved my problem and all was well in the world.

Just this week, I was trying to find a certain product that I had purchased many times before on a website because I have a friend interested in said product. This time, I couldn’t find it. Using the search option, the product appeared but when I clicked the link I was taken to an “ERROR 404” page. I emailed the company. I was instructed to call them to place the order. Well, I don’t want to call them because the company is located in the UK, plus I’m not ready to order at the moment. I responded and explained, then asked if they had the item in stock or if they were going to get them back in stock any time soon because I had a friend who was interested in purchasing right now. I also explained again about the “ERROR 404” page. The response back was simply, to use the search option to locate the product. OMG. I was ready to scream. I responded back and got the exact same response but from a different representative. Finally, I blew a gasket. I responded back with, “Will you please direct this email and the entire conversation to someone who reads and comprehends English?!” I also added, “The keyword search from your website sends me to an ERROR 404 page!!! Do you have the product or not? Will you be getting them or NOT? Why is it so hard to get a straight answer????”

It’s like talking to aliens from another planet, I swear. I do not play well with STUPID. It frustrates the hell out of me, and it happens all the damn time! I have even read aloud to other people what I have written and everyone, including my therapist, agrees that I express exactly what the problem is and/or what I need. So, why do people not understand? Does everyone have the wrong freakin’ job or what?

What are some of your experiences? I surely can’t be alone….and don’t call me Shirley.

“I Know!”

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This morning, I called the doctor’s office to make an appointment so I could get a new script for my meds. Normally, I would just call the pharmacy and they would take care of it BUT I haven’t had a TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) test in 2 years. It should be done every year to make sure my medication is keeping my thyroid on track but it just never got done last year and the doctor kept approving my refills. I didn’t squabble. But it’s been 2 years now so it needs to be done.

What I expected was a conversation like I had about 20 years ago with a different doctor’s office. I had called for the same reason as I called this morning. The receptionist said, “You need a doctor’s order for a TSH,” to which I replied, “I know. That’s why I’m making an appointment.” I think she decided to be difficult when she woke up that morning because she then said, “You need to just call the pharmacy and they will call the doctor, then the doctor will approve your meds.” I told her, “I’m quite aware of the procedure. I’m not doing that because I need a TSH and I would like all of my scripts ready to fill at the same time each month.” She was very quiet as if she was confused. I told her, “I don’t want to have to go to the pharmacy more than once to get my meds. One stop, all at once. Get it?” “She continued to be a bitch and said, “Yes, I get it but you need a doctor’s order for the TSH.” By then I was pissed. I think I yelled a little when I told her, “I know! That’s why I want to make an appointment!” She said, “The doctor will decide when you see her if you need a TSH.” I yelled again, “I know!! Will you just make the goddam appointment?!” I got my appointment and I hung up.

Not too long after that, I changed doctors. The next doctor was basically worthless but she had a standing order in my records to do a TSH every 6 months and that I need not make an appointment. All I had to do was walk in and they would get it done. Easy peasy. After not getting any help whatsoever when I started having pain and mobility issues, I changed doctors again.

The clinic I’m dealing with now utilizes Nurse Practitioners and Physicians Assistants. They seem to be ok, but I haven’t dealt with them for too long so I figured they’re probably just as incompetent as the rest. That still remains to be seen, however, I had no trouble getting an appointment with a Nurse Practitioner and I’m sure she’ll do a TSH because it’s been so long since my last.

I cringe at the thought of dealing with doctors, making phone calls; trying to explain myself to people in general. It just never seems to fail. They will either talk to me like I’m stupid or they just don’t understand what I’m telling them…. I used to think I just wasn’t expressing myself correctly but my therapist assured me that I express myself quite well. So, I know it’s not me, it’s them! They’re the stupid ones! Ha!