Here’s the thing: I’m not generally a moron. Now, if it’s a question on geography or past presidents…. I may admit defeat- but for the most part, I can hang with the best of them.
This morning I went to an appointment at my favorite stomping grounds- a beautiful place where one must get an invitation to enter.
As I did, I was greeted by one of the many Kapo (forgive me, I just finished the Tattoist at Auschuwitz)- asking me questions, taking my temperature. Now, these are all wonderful things to do to keep this place functioning properly- but… I’m not going to lie to you, I did tell them I had zero breathing problems at all. …Allow me to explain: I was meeting someone who specializes in breathing- they only work with people who have difficulties. Had I said to the first 4 Kapos that I had breathing problems- I would never have been allowed to enter- and since they are not equipped to understand these were doctors’ orders, it was best to say, “all was fine.”
After a few more stages in the maze to my destination, more and more Kapo asked the same questions as they were admitting me. Now, I had handed them my photo ID cards, they were in the computer system… and still found it necessary to ask me my name and DOB.
Despite having little in me to enjoy these lines of questions, I simply replied the truth. However, after roughly the 8th time being asked my name and DOB- while in the same room as the other 6 officers whom asked the exact same question (and heard the same answer), that’s where the fight in me came out.
Doctor #8 (The last doctor who would be asking me anything before a little nap): What is your name, DOB, and why are you here?
Me: (Did they think I couldn’t have memorized the information on my wrist after the multiple times it was asked???) Susan St. Clair, I was born 4/4/44 and I’m here for my hysterectomy.
I guess they got the last laugh since I woke up 4 hours later… with me tubes tied. (Lying on the last part)