However, I was far too lazy to actually get out of my chair and go home. I was also too tired and ADHD to do any of tomorrow's work.
As a compromise, I decided to browse through the BUSTED section of our local paper. It was a favorite pastime of mine back in my emergency room days, so I still kind of count it as working.
As I flipped through the pages, I saw the faces of many of my old friends-- Combative Drunk Guy, Combative Drunk Woman, The Never Ending Toothache Lady, Funeral Home on Speed Dial Man, and so, so many others.
I kept scrolling until I found one of my all-time favorite customers: Hates Me For Wearing Dresses Girl. She could also be known as Assumes I'm a Republican and Hates Me For It, Because This is East Tennessee and What The Hell, Why Not.
I can remember our first meeting like it was yesterday:
Fade out, Wayne's World styles
Me (bouncing into room, wearing ridiculous tights and heels, because it's graveyard shift and someone's gotta make the effort to be pretty): Hi! Are you Ms. Fluglehorn? My name's Ashlea, and I'm going to be checking you in real quick! Don't worry, it just takes a few minutes and it's super fun!
Side note-- I can't imagine why she hated me on sight.
Ms. Fluglehorn: Hi. Can we make this fast? My left pinky toe is like, in agony and I need to see the doctor RIGHT NOW.
Me: Of course! You'll notice that when I came bounding in here, I told you that this would only take a couple minutes. Now, Ms. Fluglehorn, are you married?
Ms. Fluglehorn: No, they won't let me and my girl get married.
Me: Oh, okay. You don't have an emergency contact on file-- is that who you'd like to list?
Ms. Fluglehorn: Why, cause we're living in sin?
Me: Um, no. Because I assumed when you said, "My girl," you meant that the two of you were fairly close, and you'd like her to know if you're ever in a tragic accident. But I guess you know what assuming does...
And that has never been more true.
Her (after an unnecessarily long and awkward beat): Whatever. Did you make a note on there that she's black?
Me: Um, no. There's not really a space for it on these forms. But if it's really, really important to you, I guess I can stick a Post-It on here?
Her: I don't care. Do what you want.
Me: Okay. Then if it's alright with you, we'll save the Post-It. Now, Ms. Fluglehorn, is there a clergy or religious affiliation you'd like to have on file?
A smarter person than me would've just skipped that part. But the same part of me that likes to lie has a pretty overwhelming, "What the hell, ask and see what happens," philosophy. Also, if her left pinky toe wound up killing her, and she didn't have last rites... I'm not emotionally stable enough to keep that on my conscience.
Ms. Fluglehorn (another unnecessary pause): Yeah, I got a religion for you. Wiccan. You ever hear of that?
Me: Yes, I have heard of that. It's actually an option in our computer system.Well, that takes care of this. I'll get the doctor in here as soon as...
Her (not realizing that interrupters are the worst people in the world, after Nazis): You'll understand when you're older. You're what, 19?
Me (having completely given up on ever escaping this room, and quickly realizing that I'm two weeks older than our dear Ms. Fluglehorn): 37. But thanks! I use that Oil of Olay stuff and I think it works just great, don't you?
Ms. Fluglehorn: Uh, yeah. You got kids? How you gonna raise em?
Me: Seven, actually. The oldest is 16, but I'm thinking about taking them all out of school and homeschooling. Except not with me as a teacher-- I never liked books and stuff. I figure I can pay my granny $20 a night to go over figures and history with them..
Her: Oh, uh... seven kids? Wow.
Me: And you know what, the older I get, the more I really enjoy childbirth. It's like yoga.
Ms. Fluglehorn: STUNNED SILENCE.
Me: STALKS AWAY AS A CHAMPION
So, yeah. Super-long story to recount a small lie. But like I said, the BUSTED section brings out my sentimental, nostalgic side, and a trip down memory lane was called for.
On a side note, I've decided to start a sub-blog called "Vigilante Justice Through Lies and Social Awkwardness." Stay tuned.
Other side notes:
- I probably wasn't as quick-witted and awesome in real life as I like to pretend I was.
- In case you're wondering: Assume= Ass/u/me
- Fluglehorn is NOT her real name. In case you're dumb and couldn't figure that out. Or in case you're vicious and want to assume I routinely break HIPAA laws.
