Things that piss me off

On the long list of things that piss me off, one phrase stands bold and tall:

We're only doing this for your protection.

When a representative of a company says those words, they are rarely telling the truth. Here's one of my special favorites:

We're changing your credit card number for your protection.

No, scumbag, you're doing it to save your company money. If anything happens to my card, per my agreement with you I have a maximum liability of fifty bucks. You're nervous, so you're going to inconvenience me and make me change my credit-card info on approximately as many Web sites as there are atoms in the universe.

Today, I got to hear this one:

This new vial test policy is only for your protection.

No, you lying piece of crap, it's not. It's to protect your medical practice from possible lawsuits.

Ah, not familiar with the vial test? Let me explain.

Once every three weeks, I give myself two subcutaneous allergy serum shots in my left arm. I've been giving myself these shots for about seven years, first weekly, then after a while every ten days, then after another while every two weeks, and now every three weeks. I'll probably be doing this as long as I live. I'm okay with that. Prior to beginning these shots, I had severe allergy issues and a major needle phobia. Now, I have neither. I chose to give the shots to myself to save that most precious of assets: time. The ENT office I use would mail me my serum, I would send them a few bucks for postage, and all was well.

Until the vial test policy. The braintrust at some national otolaryngeal association decided it was no longer safe to mail the vials. As one dipshit explained to me--and I am not making this up--terrorists might intercept the vials and do things to them. Why target McDonald's when you could steal my allergy serum from the mail?

Now, each time you change vials--which happens every three months--you have to go to the doctor's office and have them test the vial on you (or in my case, the two vials). They do what amounts to a scratch test, then make you wait fifteen minutes, then check the size of your reaction.

Of course, you're in the doctor's office, and you're using up a nurse's time, so of course they have to bill you. I'm sure that's just a coincidence.

I've been taking the same exact mix of serum without a problem for about four years. Not one problem. So, today I had the vial test, and the size of the reaction area on my arm exceeded their standards. The nurse and I then had this lovely interchange, which I am also not making up:

Nurse: Wow, that must really hurt and itch.

Me: No, I can't feel it.

Nurse: Sure you can. Just look at it. It must really be hurting and itching.

Me: No, honestly, I can't feel it. No pain. No itch. May I please have my vial?

Nuse: I don't know how you can stand it. Maybe if I show it to you in the mirror you'll realize how much it's hurting and itching.

It went downhill from there.

The next step was to dilute the serum and try again. The nurse drew from the same bottle and started to inject me. I suggested she might need to dilute it first, she tittered, and then she did so.

Fifteen more minutes of dead time in the waiting room.

My reaction was one half of a millimeter too wide in diameter.

No serum for me.

I begged.

They had a conference call; I got to hear only my nurse's end.

No serum for me.

Now, I have to come back in about a week--when I'm likely to be out of town--and repeat this process.

Oh, yeah: Of course they'll have to charge me the same fee again.

The serum is worth all this hassle, but I hate every moment of this process.

Good thing it's all for my protection.