Glasses are a touchy subject for a person who used to enjoy a glasses-free existence for many years. Try to avoid this happening to you when you see an eye doctor for the first time.
Ron entered a video call with an ophthalmologist; he had a few small lumps on my right eye. It wasn’t itchy or vision-obscuring, yet, it felt abnormal to have something stuck in one’s eye. His wife Susan discovered it and sent him to the doctor. So there he was, trying to explain the predicament.
Kathy, the doctor, peers at the pictures Ron sent her, closeups of both eyes. “Hmm, you have pterygium,” she says decisively, “it is a growth on the white part of the cornea, but don’t worry, it isn’t cancerous.”
“That’s a long name for something benign, are you sure it isn’t a problem?”
“Do you have any vision loss?”
“No, not really. Come to think of it, I think there are fonts that I can no longer see from up close. Maybe this growth is the cause?”
“Tell me more,” Kathy instructs.
“For example, my hand watch. Whereas I can read the time, which is written in nice large letters, the date is smaller, and I can only read it when I stretch my arm out.”
“Sounds like you are becoming far-sighted, it is a sign of aging. Time is inexorable, it eats at you one bite at a time. The hands of time keep moving …”
“I am not getting old; speaking for myself, of course. Other people do age, certainly.”
“My husband was a glasses skeptic, just like you. He was 47 when he got his first pair, won’t leave home without them now. It took a car accident to convince him, luckily, he came out of it only with a slight limp. And one kidney less. He takes pills for the lost spleen.”
“I am sorry, that is horrible. How did it happen?”
“He was driving and received a text message. He stretched his arm out to read the message, blocked his field of vision, and missed a vehicle that came into the traffic circle from the left.”
“Hold on, but if he didn’t stretch out his arm, he would block even more of his field of vision.”
“You are just like my husband, a glasses denier.”
…
A few days later, Ron wanted to check the latest transactions in his bank account, he was wondering if the water bill had been paid. The automated identification system asked for the last four digits of his credit card number but did not accept them, even though he typed them correctly, three times.
“You have been locked out of the system due to too many invalid attempts, please contact a human,” the system informed him and disconnected.
He called again.
“You have been locked out of your account, do you want to wait for a human?” the automated system asked.
“Yes please”
“This is not smart, you should have waited on the line,” the robot answered and disconnected.
But I asked to connect, Ron fumed. How am I supposed to talk to the bank? He tried again.
“You have been locked out of your account, do you want to wait for a human?”
“Yes”
“Very well, you are number 17 in line, please wait.”
Hmm, so I shouldn’t have said ‘please’? Ron thought, maybe the automated system doesn’t recognize the word properly. After a short while, the system suggested they call him, instead, and he agreed.
He was thinking about his favorite vacation spot in Hawaii when they called and asked for his entire credit card number, as verification. It had more than 10 digits and he did not remember it by heart, but the real problem was that he couldn’t find it in his wallet. Meanwhile, the clerk on the line was getting impatient.
“Well?”
Finally, he found it. “The number is 4400 5590 121 210.”
“You wish. You will now have to personally come to the bank. Please contact our automated system,” the clerk said in a smug tone.
“Your automated system won’t identify me,” Ron yelped. But the line was already dead. He was going to have to ask his wife, which was embarrassing.
…
“Your number definitely doesn’t have 14 digits, that’s for sure. Credit card numbers always have 16 digits,” Susan announced in a judgemental tone. “Show me this card”, she stretched her arm out palm upwards.
Ron fished in his wallet but couldn’t find the card. He spilled the entire contents on the table and searched, still nothing. Something was feeling wrong, and he couldn’t put a finger on it. He sorted the cards alphabetically, all facing the same way, and finally, there it was.
“Really? this is a Delta frequent flyer card, did you even read the title? And what’s the number on the bottom?” Susan said.
Ron had a sinking feeling; this was not good. He looked at the card and found that on the other side, the one he failed to examine, it said Delta in big block letters. The number on the bottom was too small for him to read. His wife could read it with ease, since she was short-sighted and could see extremely well up close.
“I, since I am such a gracious person, am going to fix this for you at the bank. You, on the other hand, are going to get short-vision glasses, as I have been telling you for years,” Susan intoned.
“But how am I going to avoid losing them?” Ron delayed.
“I will buy you a gold chain, so you don’t lose them.”
“But I will look like a smuggler!”
“Small price to pay for your credit card working again. It is going to waste half a day of mine to sort this out. You do want me to go, right?”
Ron sat down, he needed some strong coffee. He knew this was the end, he was going to be walking with glasses from now on.
THE END
