Tag: life

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We moved. One of the onerous tasks involved in any move is changing my address with the various institutions I do business with. In the past this could be done by two simple actions. The first was making a phone call to the institution. The second was a letter to the institution.

In 2026, due to the wonders of modern technology this can be done with a quick visit to the institution’s website. Quick is the operative word here. What would seem like a quick tick of a few boxes in order to retrieve my address has turned into a major production which now involves a trouble ticket to the USA Government one logon for all agencies help desk.

The steps so far:

After my initial logon into Medicare web site, I received a message telling me they were sending a code in order to verify my identity. Done.

They then asked what I wanted to do. I told them change my address which they informed me I could do by choosing one of the four pathways into the Federal Government’s web site. I chose the one I already knew I had a log on in — the USA Government one logon for all federal agencies.

I was informed that I would have to verify my identity yet again. I had to photograph my driver’s license (both sides) and then take a photo of myself. The computer then verified that my driver’s license and photo matched.

I had to verify my social security number.

Then my address appeared on the screen with the option to edit. I tried to edit but I received an unhelpful message informing me that there was an error in my address — most likely my social security number. I checked it was correct. I reviewed my address. It was correct. I tried again to enter. The system found an error in my address but did not point to what the problem was.

I noticed that there was a chat feature. I tried. But before I could chat, I had to verify that I wasn’t a robot. I tried but for some reason I must have missed one of the squares with a car. I tried again but I kept getting a new screen with the same instruction to mark all the squares with a car. I tried several times and each time a new set of pictures appeared with an instruction to mark all the squares with a car. I couldn’t get into chat.

So I searched for a phone number. This proved more difficult than I anticipated as it was nowhere to be found. What ever page appeared on my screen also kept giving me a message that all I had to do was use their system and that it would be a whole lot quicker and easier if just used the internet to change my address. I laughed at this little joke.

Finally, after searching for a few minutes I was able to find a phone number. I called.

I was greeted with an automated message. She asked me what I wanted to do. I told her I just wanted to change my address for Medicare. She told me that I could do this on line and directed me to the USA Government one logon for all federal agencies web site. I screamed numerous times “agent” loudly and clearly. I waited. After a bit of a delay, the automated voice returned. She thanked me for my time and disconnected the line.

I went back to the website and after vigorously depressing a few keys I came upon a screen that allowed me to complete a trouble ticket to their help desk. I completed. I should have an answer within 24 hours.

All this to change my address which, if I talked to an actual human being, I am fairly certain could be done in less than a minute.

But, no, I had to use the easier and quicker web site.

My address has not been changed after about 45 minutes of trying.

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One of the continuing irritations with the present medical system is the administrative confusion that arises when it is time to pay the bill. For some reason, the provider and the insurance company make me the middle man in their struggle for payment or for non-payment as it were. Now the only value, to use corporate speak, that I bring to the argument is I don’t want to pay the bill.

Nonetheless I am continually being dragged into these discussions where my growing irritation is the only clear relevance I am bringing to the debate.

My participation usually begins when the provider, after numerous attempts, has failed to get payment from the insurance companies. They then decide to bill the patient which seems fair and reasonable as the patient ultimately received the service.

Let’s stop here for just a moment. I thought that this was a service that was paid for by my insurance company. I never expected to be billed more than the co-pay. All I can add to the discussion is I didn’t expect to be billed. The provider, rather cleverly, has pulled me into the argument.

But why? I don’t know the arrangement between the provider and the insurance companies. I don’t know how the provider is supposed to code their bills in order to get payment. All I can do is complain to the provider for billing me which is where the provider explains their dilemma — the insurance company won’t pay.

Apparently the ire of the patient helps the insurance company to do the right thing. I grudgingly can accept this tactic although I am baffled why the provider can’t just work it out with the insurance company without involving me. I suspect it is based in confrontation avoidance of the young office workers tasked with resolving these matters. For some reason, they would rather piss off me over pissing off the insurance companies.

Any way, this is where things get truly irritating. The provider wants me to contact the insurance company in order to get payment. WTF. Why am I the one calling the insurance company? Why can’t the provider call them? I am embarrassed to say I fell for this little gambit numerous times mostly because I fear having to pay a large dollar amount bill.

So, I would call the insurance company who then tries to explain to me what the provider needs to do in order to get payment. I am not the one who needs this information. I am not billing them. I don’t care what the provider needs to do, the provider does. At this point I suggest that the insurance company calls the provider to explain. This is usually greeted with mumbles and vague promises to contact the provider. Speaking from personal experience this rarely happens.

Because the insurance company has provided me with some useful information that might help the provider get their money, I try to pass that on to the provider the best I can with the suggestion that they themselves might themselves call the insurance company to ensure I have my information straight. More mumbles and more promises. Speaking from personal experience this rarely happens. I know I repeat myself.

The good news is I have came up with a new strategy that sometimes works. I don’t pay the bill and you know the provider and the insurance company seem to find a resolution without involving me. It sometimes takes awhile but they eventually work it out without me paying a thing or becoming the middle man.

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This might be the man in me, which despite being gay that ugly male chromosome sometimes rears its ugly head causing me to have typical heterosexual male sentiments, but I am trying to understand Melissa Garner Lee’s anger with her husband over missing the Taylor Swift Travis Kelce Wedding. Lee’s husband had worked with Taylor Swift once in the past — this is her only connection with the happy couple which, speaking as a totally neutral outside observer seems, at best, really tenuous. So she basically wants to ride her husband’s coattails as a plus one to a wedding that he, apparently, isn’t too driven to attend.

This is why she is angry with her husband? He may have ignored an invitation to the wedding of the century. He saw something in his email queue with a subject like Taylor Swift’s wedding. He thought it was spam, didn’t even open it and deleted it. Crime of the fucking century that is.

First, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, what kind of crass mother fucker sends wedding invitations through email. PLEASE. Taylor Swift. Wedding of the Century. I just don’t think Swift’s the type of woman to send email wedding invitations. If I were her husband I would have been suspicious too and would have deleted it as spam without giving it a second thought.

And, if it was an invitation from Swift, who would want to go to a wedding from such a crass mother fucker. Amy Vanderbilt must have rolled in her grave and I would have been right there helping to spin her coffin. Call me old fashioned but if you don’t have enough class to spend a first class postage invitation through the US mail, I am not coming to your wedding with an electric toaster in hand. This is where I am afraid I draw the line as any self-respecting person would.

Then, did I mention, her tenuous connection? She barely knows the bride and has never met the groom. I am surprised that she was on the list at all. This would be reason enough for me to ignore the invitation. I really don’t know them that that well to feel comfortable sharing such an intimate moment. I have not attended weddings of people who I knew better than this and I didn’t feel the least bit bad about it.

No. No. You are missing the point. It is the wedding of the century. So what? Your claim to fame is that I was a plus one at the wedding of the century? Give me a fucking break. More troubling, is Lee is a psychotherapist. Talk about over reacting. I mean if I got a wedding invitation from someone who I worked for many years ago and that my partner knew even less, the idea that I would even bring it up with my partner in the first place is a bit of stretch. That my partner would get mad about this missed opportunity would leave me a bit baffled. Why am I getting so much grief over this?

But it is the wedding of the century. I heard you the first time and I repeat so what? I can think of a lot better ways to spend my weekend that watching two strangers get married in front of thousands of other people on a hot July day in New York — just so you can say you attended. I was fucking there and you weren’t. So take that. I don’t know about your psychotherapist but this would certainly make me one think twice before laying down on her office couch and telling her my problems.

Lee does seem to come to her senses at the end of her piece but not before making her husband feel bad enough to apologize to her for not understanding how important going to the wedding of the century might be for her. He apologized to her! If anyone deserves an apology here it is the poor husband who suffers through his wife’s over reaction to missing a stranger’s wedding.

Get a grip lady because the world has much bigger disappointments coming your way.

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Five years back, my partner and I bought a Kia Sportage. It was a smart car — which means, in our case, it has an internal computer system that will tell you when something is wrong with the car. The sales man’s pitch was that the Kia computer network would also see any of these warnings and all we would have to do is take the car in and they could take care of it. Sold.

So a week or so back, our Sportage computer system told us that our front headlight was malfunctioning. Bob took a look and sure enough one of the lights was out. He made an appointment with the service department and this is where things get a little weird.

Keep in mind all that needs to be done is change the headlight. This is a task that in my younger days I could actually perform. Yes, a gay man without any interest in cars whatsoever, changed an automobile headlight. It wasn’t easy because nothing mechanical is easy for me. It took me a few minutes to figure it out, a mistake here and there, but I was able to do it in under an hours time.

Now days, I try not to waste my hours figuring shit out when I can pay someone to do it. They will probably take a few minutes as opposed to my hour. We gladly turned it over to the Kia Service Department.

Well, it wasn’t as quick a task as we thought. Indeed it was, at least, a two day process. First we had to bring the car in so that Kia’s mechanics could determine what the problem was. Wait. The computer system warned us. Bob visually confirmed it. Couldn’t a mechanic just do the same thing?

Apparently not. The mechanic had to inspect it first to see if the computer was right. OK. That makes sense, but once the inspection was completed, why do we have to come back another day. Because they would have to order the part. A headlight? Keep in mind this is a huge sales and service center that runs across two blocks and multiple buildings. If we were looking to replace say an engine, yes by all means, get the part, but a headlight why wouldn’t they have that in store or, at the least, call a Kia parts store in the city and get the headlight the same day. But no, we were assured it would definitely be a two day process.

Bob takes the car in and the mechanic confirms what Bob saw and the car’s internal computer system warned us about — the headlight was burned out. The mechanic also helpfully informed us of an array of other tasks that the service department might perform. None of them were particularly urgent and we didn’t ask him to investigate in the first place. Thanks but no thanks.

The mechanic would order the part and let us know when it came in. Wait, this should take 24 hours right? Not necessarily. There might not be a Kia headlight in all of San Diego county — the 8 largest metropolitan area in the United States sitting a short drive away from the 2nd largest metropolitan area in the United States. But OK, we will wait for the call.

Forty-eight hours later Bob had an appointment. Bright and early one morning, he took the car again and asked if he could just wait for them to fix because surely putting on a headlight is a pretty quick fix and would require very little time to implement. Bob was then informed that no it wouldn’t be a quick fix and he should return home because they would have to take off the bumper in order to replace the headlight.

What? Now this seems like a major technological faux pas. Why would you create a car where a relatively simple task like changing a headlamp requires the removal of a bumper? Particularly when the cars of yesteryear had already mastered this particular design. Why would you make something that was so easy to do in the 20th Century so difficult to do in the 21st Century? The technician, of course, didn’t design the car so, of course, Bob left the car and waited for his call.

And waited and waited and waited. It was mid-afternoon and Bob was getting concerned about the delay. He, called the technician to check on the delay. The mechanic informed him that the car wouldn’t be available until late afternoon at the earliest. Indeed the car still hadn’t been worked on. A headlight. We agreed to pick it up the next day.

The good news was the headlight was under warranty and we didn’t have to pay but this seems like a lot of hassle to replace something so basic as a headlight.

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All I wanted to know is if I paid my Macy’s bill. Pretty simple right. Wrong.

This should be a quick look at the online Macy’s site. Except, for some reason, my browser no longer seems compatible with Macy’s credit card payment information even though it will still show me all the marvelous things I can buy at Macy’s – page after page of sale items but every time I depress the credit card history link — a spinning hourglass. OK. No problem. I will just go to another browser.

The new browser doesn’t have my saved password and user ID. I can, however, see all the marvelous things I can buy at Macy’s but my personal profile which would lead me to my payment information is off limits. OK. A bit of a problem because I rarely use my Macy’s credit card and I don’t have the user ID and password memorized. Contrary to all security recommendations, but absolutely essential because there is no way I can remember all the password and user ID’s I have, I locate these details in a separate Word document.

I attempt to log in. Except the password and user ID don’t match Macy’s records. OK. Maybe I made a typo. I try again. No luck. What to do?

I go back to the old browser that will allow me to log in but will not display my payment history. I go to the log in screen. My password doesn’t display but I can see my user ID but not my password. Now I have one out of two items I need. The password is hidden by *. I can however count the number of * and from that I deduce the correct password. Bingo.

I am in except I can only see the marvelous things I can buy and not the actual amount I owe on my credit card. I eventually, after randomly depressing every link I can find, stumble across the credit card history page. Success.

I paid my bill.

This all could have been handled with a quick phone call to customer service but, as we all know, there is no such think as a quick phone call to customer service. A phone tree will answer with numerous questions about why I would like to talk to customer service and, while I am on hold, frequent reminders that this could all be handled much more quickly if I used the online site. Some of the time, this is true. This wasn’t one of them.

If I can use the online system, I will use the online system. But, sometimes it is easier for me to just talk to someone. The problem isn’t easily routed through phone tree analytics. So, if I am calling, I really need to talk to someone. Any one would do. Just let me talk to someone. Please. Pretty please with sugar on top. It will take them seconds to understand what I want and give me a reply.

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Bob and I have two cats and I sometimes feel like all I do is tell them no. Cisco wants out doors. No. Chloe wants to scratch the furniture. No. Cisco wants to eat the food off of my plate. No. Chloe wants to scavenge the kitchen counter for leftover. All they hear from me is no.

What worries me is that it makes absolutely no sense to them. For example, why can’t Cisco drag the chicken bones across the kitchen counter and then drop it on the floor so he can eat it. I was obviously done with the bones, why can’t he just pick the bones for whatever he can find. Why is he getting all hysterical about it?

Or why is it all right for Chloe to scratch the cat scratchers that Bob has so artfully arrayed around the house but not the couch and the chairs that are just a juicy targets. Why is one scratchable and the other not? And how, a poor cat, supposed to the difference.

They just run and hide when we raise our voices but I am sure they are thinking WTF. This is what animals do why are these two humans such pains in the asses.

I am surprised that they are both still civil with us. But they are.

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A senior moment that keeps recurring in my life is misplacing things. I lose my glasses the most. My eye sight is actually pretty good which enables me to ramble around the house without them. So, unless I have a pressing need for them, like watching television, I go without them.

I try to put them in the same place every night before I go to bed. The problem comes when I take them off earlier in the day for some seemingly benign act like rubbing my itchy eyes and forgetting to put them back on. At this point, they are lost. I go looking for them but without my glasses. This sometimes proves an impediment to finding them because instead of seeing the room clearly, there is a bit of blur obscuring everything.

In the past, I would just get my spare pair of glasses and wear them until I found them.

This worked pretty well until recently. I bought a new pair of glasses. The day I bought my glasses I was overwhelmed with the number of choices I had — there were hundreds of potential frames. This paralyses me. The more choices I have, the more difficult it is for me to come to a decision. So, I thought, well Tom you liked your present frames, just get a pair of frames that looks like the old ones you have. Genius, right? I got the exact same frame.

As we all know, the road to Hell is paid with good intentions, it has actually made it worse for my search for glasses.

Since I misplace my glasses on almost a daily basis, I constantly am putting on my spare pair. When the old pair and the new pair looked different, I could easily determine which pair of glasses I should be wearing when I stumbled across them. I would put on the new pair and return the old pair to my cram packed junk drawer until I need them again.

Now, so I just put on my old glasses which work until I stumble across my new ones. This would work if I also kept better track of my old glasses but I don’t. So, much to my chagrin, I will misplace my glasses and when I go to the junk drawer, the spare pare is missing. Which means instead of wearing my new pair, I was already wearing my spare pair and now, instead of looking for one pair of glasses, I am looking for two pairs of glasses.

Worse still, I don’t know which is my old pair and my new pair when I do find a pair of glasses because I didn’t think to check if there was anything that would differentiate the two pairs, I don’t know which pair I am holding — the old pair or the new pair.

As I am reading this back, I am thinking why am I writing about such a trivial matter. Then I think, wait a minute, this is important. As a Senior Citizen, this is how I spend a large portion of my day — looking for shit I can’t find.

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One of the things I would change about my apartment is the metal sink in the kitchen (seen above). Every time I look at it, I think it is out of place, particularly when you go into the bathrooms with the nicer porcelain ones. I realize that it is probably not real porcelain but it is close enough in look and in touch for me to give it a pass. It looks like how I imagine a bathroom sink should look.

When I look at the metal sinks in the kitchen, my first thought is this is out of place. It looks wrong. I am sorry for being such a snob but when something looks so out of place from everything else in the apartment, there can only be one good reason for it being there — it is cheap. The contractor threw out all design considerations to save a buck. To Hell with how it looks.

Now I am all for keeping costs down but there is a difference between looking cheap and finding inexpensive materials that still give a quality sense and also fit into the general design of the apartment. This isn’t how this kitchen sink makes me feel. It looks cheap and out of place.

Finally, and most importantly, it is more difficult to use. In order to wash and rinse in one step, the sink needs to be divided into two separate parts. One side for washing and the other side for rinsing. This metal sink is one big long deep trench. I guess I am supposed to wash everything and then go back and rinse them afterwards but this seems like a lot of extra work for me when I can do both tasks in one step with the divide sink.

The other problem with it being too deep and too long is I use an inordinate amount of water to fill it for comfortable washing. This becomes an ecological drawback sense we are being told that the Colorado River is running out of water and do everything we can to conserve on water.

The absolute worst aspect is cleaning the fucker out. In an oval sink, I just sprayed water to the sides and the debris fell effortlessly into the drain. With a square sink, the debris is constantly getting caught in the corners so I have to dig out the debris in order to get the sink clean.

In conclusion, I really miss my porcelain, oval and divided sink.

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Hucksters learn faster than any other people how to manipulate new technology to finagle people out of their money. The volume of junk mail, email, and texts I receive as opposed to actual communication from people I know and welcome is amazing. Almost every email I receive is junk — very rarely do I get a legitimate piece of email. Phone and texts are a bit better. I would say about half of what I receive there is legitimate. This is still a lot of junk.

What irritates me about this junk is that I thought laws were passed several years back to help the average citizen stop unwanted communication in what ever form — be it phone, text, letterbox or email. Report the offenders and these nuisances would stop.

But it has not stopped and the junk communications just keep coming. I realize it is complicated. A lot of the problems is the huckster operate outside the national borders so American laws are ineffective. Basically there is nothing we can do. The laws are pointless so the junk will continue to flow. So what if they are trying to sell viagra to lesbians. All they have to do is ignore the message, nobody is hurt.

I disagree. The best case scenario here is that I have to wade through hundreds of unnecessary emails and texts in order to find the ones that I actually need. This takes time. Every day precious minutes are stolen from me as I try to find what really matters to me amongst all this junk. This may be a small problem, but it is a problem. I don’t like it one bit and apparently there is nothing I can do about it because we couldn’t possibly stop hucksters from pursuing their businesses.

Never mind that these businesses are quite often engaged in ways to steal money from naive people. See the huckster has rights. It is the individual’s responsibility to stop the huckster.

It is so ingrained in our belief system of right and wrong that when we hear stories about someone getting bilked out of money, the gut reaction is why were the victims so stupid to fall for the huckster. The victim needs to smarten up because there is nothing wrong with parting a fool from his money. Unfortunately, the fool is in a dog eat dog world and apparently that is the way we like it.

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Why is it that every time I see a new doctor, I have to complete the same questionnaire. This is so irritating. I thought the whole point of having your information on line was every medical professional now has easy access to your data and you won’t need to keep supplying it every time you go to a doctor.

This is not my experience. Every time I walk into a new doctor’s office, I am handed a clipboard with a questionnaire asking for my details. You know name, address, emergency contact, medical history, medications you are taking and why you are visiting the doctor. Yes, I get it that they need to get it right but to see my questionnaire sitting unconsulted on the doctor’s desk while she asks me the same questions yet again is a bit insulting.

Or to have the office hound me with texts and emails too complete the an on line questionnaire before my appointment with the caveat these replies will make it easier and faster for the doctor who is treating me, only to be asked to fill out a paper version of the same questions when I arrive at the doctor’s office.

Sometimes I will be working on the questionnaire and I am called into to see the doctor. I will let the nurse know I haven’t completed the questionnaire yet, only to be told don’t worry about it, she never looks at it in the first place. Then why am I filling it out? Are they giving me busy work to keep me occupied while waiting for the doctor? Quite frankly, I’d rather being perusing the People magazines stacked on the tables than completing yet another form with my medical history.

If I were a smart ass, I would advise them I already given them this information and could they possibly retrieve the data there. Thank God, I am not a smart ass. More of a coward I suppose. I don’t want to look like trouble to the doctor’s front desk staff. They have a lot of power for you, they can offer you an 7:30 AM appointment tomorrow or a 1PM appointment sometime after the first of the year. Neither choice is good. You can keep asking but the choices are never good. Whatever you do keep on the good side of the office staff or else you will never get a decent appointment time.

And keep filling out those damn questionnaires or your chances of seeing the doctor are pretty darn slim.