Another benefit of working from my kitchen table most mornings is the things I can visually observe. So last week I mentioned that I heard the birds; this week, I'm watching the spiders. Now before you go getting all arachnophobic on me (I'm thinking of someone in particular here...), let me 'splain.
When I left Stockton, I was given the most adorable office/garden plant by my amazing coworkers. It's called a Dish Garden and contains what looks to be three different plants all cohabiting nicely in a little wooden bucket. (Incidentally, my coworkers must have known that I'm not so good with houseplants because it looks like they chose a relatively impossible-to-kill variety - the thing STILL doesn't need to be watered two weeks later!) Since the kitchen table is essentially my desk for the time being, I have the plant sitting right next to me so that when I'm trying to think of something productive, I can just look at it and meditate for a moment. It turns out I'm not the only one naturally attracted to the greenery. Spiders like it, too.
There is this one specific spider I've been watching all morning - he's just a little guy, eight legs and all that normal spider stuff, but boy is he acrobatic. I'm sure that whatever he's doing has some evolutionary/ecological purpose, but from this angle, it just looks like he's having fun. And why not?
I watched him crawl up the side of the pot and onto the leaves - I looked away for just a minute and when I looked back, there he was on top of the plant world! Right there on one of the highest leaves, looking down. And right before my eyes, he let out a piece of silk and descended back down to the table like one of those guys on Mission Impossible. It was pretty awesome to watch.
But the fun didn't stop there - I'm not quite sure how the mechanics of it work, but he just pulled himself right back up on that same silk strand. And I watched him do it back and forth a few times until finally, he decided to explore the table top a bit.
Now I should say that I'm not even a little bit afraid of spiders. I've definitely seen some that I didn't want to wake up to in the middle of the night - when I lived alone in my little Thoreau cabin, I learned more about spiders than I ever wanted to know. Like, for instance, apparently the Pine Barrens is home to a glow-in-the-dark variety of arachnid...and also a strange blue-purple one...and also ones that are the size of my fist. But we cohabited alright - our agreement was they could come in and hang out as long as they didn't bite me or my cat or wake me up in the middle of the night by crawling on my face.
And you know, our arrangement worked out quite well. I didn't kill them and they didn't bother me.
Anyway, so now I've got this little guy hanging out with me at the table - I was a little afraid I'd accidentally squish him, so I picked him up and put him back on the plant for awhile. I doubt he'll stay there, though - he's quite the international explorer.
t.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Computer-free Sundays
So when I was deciding how this work-from-home thing would actually work, I thought a lot about what small-biz owners the world over know all too well - that it can be almost impossible to separate business from pleasure, especially if you have a home office. When exactly do you stop working for the day? When do you stop working for the WEEK?
My theory about why this problem even exists is as follows: People who choose to work from home (and have that luxury) do so because they actually LIKE their jobs. People who choose to establish home-based businesses probably do so because they DISLIKED their former jobs enough to call it quits. In either case, I think it's a fair assumption that people with home offices are probably pretty happy with what they're doing; thus, it seems almost unnecessary to draw "arbitrary" lines in the sand about when you will stop working for the day or week or month. Why stop what you like doing?
Well, because it's healthy not to work all the time, that's why. So in an attempt to organize my week, I decided to strictly adhere to a new self-imposed rule - no computers on Sundays. Yesterday was the trial period and boy, it was HARD. Usually, my day starts around 5:30 or 6 (weekdays or weekends, doesn't matter), when I open my laptop and get to working. I use the term "working" loosely here, because I could be doing something that's actually productive...or I could be reading one of the gazillions of web-zines or blogs that I haunt on a regular basis. Either way, I really like my computer and I like my habit of greeting it early in the morning, bowl of coffee in hand and quiet all around (especially on a weekend, when hubby and dog and cat really don't get up until long after me).
So it was hard not to do that yesterday, especially since I hadn't slept well the previous two nights, during which time I finally got to finish reading that long-awaited Forbes laying on my coffee table. (Ahhhh, conservatism in the early morning hours...turns out it's just as disturbing as it is in the afternoon or evening, yet still completely informative for people fascinated by the psychology of billionaires...but I digress.) I was laying awake staring at the ceiling fan and wondering...worrying, really...what I would do with myself for the next couple of solo hours. So I just laid there until I fell back asleep and it turned out not to be so bad, getting a little shut-eye. And guess what? When hubby and his dog finally woke up, we laid there and had a nice long chat about random things...because I wasn't in the kitchen, on my computer, getting the morning coffee buzz by myself.
The rest of the morning went pretty much the same way - I even watched a bit of T.V., which I haven't done in ages. It turns out that when you're not glued to your computer screen, you can actually have some decent conversations with people...you know, your FAMILY, those people with whom you rarely interact during the week. We talked about all sorts of things and I'm sure I learned a new thing or two - I don't think we've had conversations like that in the time we've been married, actually. Just never happens. I found myself thinking, "So, THIS is what they mean by communication. Huh, whatdya' know? We're pretty good at it." The funny thing is that HE was on his computer some of the time we were talking because HE apparently doesn't have to observe the Computer-Free Sundays rule...
We had plans yesterday that included driving up to Bridgewater, so much of the afternoon was spent in the truck, at a restaurant, and then in the truck again. By that time, I was jonesing a little for technological interaction, so not having my laptop on hand, I reached for the old standby - the trusty iPhone. And then I looked at hubby, who looked back at me and said, "You're ridiculous." At which time I quietly put the phone back in it's place in my bag and looked out the window at the beautiful Jersey Turnpike view (if you're not familiar with the Turnpike, then please inject serious sarcasm into the previous statement). When we got home, I found myself wondering what to do, what to do. Hubby likes to sit outside and read the paper sometimes, so I tried that for about five minutes - didn't work because the allergens were a-swimmin' around my head and making me very uncomfortable. But hey, I gave it a shot. In the time that I WASN'T on my computer, I did laundry, brushed the cat (believe me, this is a serious undertaking), reorganized my closet, straightened up the house, and did some other stuff I can't remember. All without a headache because my eyes weren't strained from staring at a screen all day. Then we watched a Netflix movie that had been sitting around the house for far too long - it turned out to be "Public Enemies," that Johnny Depp movie about John Dillinger. Good stuff - I really liked it, but of course it didn't have a happy ending.
And then I went to bed, at which time I slept almost the whole night! Pretty amazing stuff.
But what really surprised me about the whole Computer-Free Sundays test run was what happened to me this morning. I keep a list of things I need to accomplish on each day during the week so that I know I'm doing everything I should be doing - I've found that when I'm not in a deadline-driven office environment, I have to create my OWN deadline-driven office environment to get anything done. But instead of jumping out of bed and going straight to the computer, at which I would normally sit for several hours before destinkifying myself and going out into the world, I stayed right where I was. In bed. And do you know what I heard?
I heard the coolest bird chirping away. It had this really rhythmic song pattern that I found myself drumming along to.
Why is this amazing? I hear birds every morning, so what was different about this one?
Well, I'll bet you that same bird (or family of birds, as it turns out) has been singing that same rhythmic song outside my window for weeks, but this was the first time I actually HEARD it. I wasn't in a rush to do something else; in fact, I seriously considered making it a Computer-Free Monday, too (but that wouldn't be practical). I heard that bird and I couldn't get up because I liked listening to it so much.
Eventually, I did get up and I'm in my usual position right now - sitting at the kitchen table with my bowl of coffee (this morning, it quite literally is a bowl with a handle on it) and my laptop, no T.V. in the background (I detest daytime television especially), and a snoring dog in the next room. But guess what? I can still hear that bird outside my kitchen window. He and I are friends now - we're making plans to hang out tomorrow morning and probably for the rest of the week. I asked him how the fam was and he says the kids are alright.
t.
----------
P.S. (at about 12:30pm on Monday): Speaking of the wily ways of nature, I just witnessed the most fascinating thing at my kitchen window. I heard very recently that spiders are good to have around if you've got problems with stinkbugs (which we do, like everyone else in our great state right now). I just snapped a pic of a spider dangling down on its little silk rope, where it had captured a stinkbug twice its size. I felt kinda bad taking a picture of the bug's demise, but it's nature - whatdya' gonna' do? Who am I to mess with the natural order of things? Anyway, it made for some pretty interesting viewing - it took a loooooong time for this spider to have its way with the stinkbug, but had its way it DID. Now both are gone somewhere, one digesting the other no doubt. I've always liked spiders. Now I know why.
t.
My theory about why this problem even exists is as follows: People who choose to work from home (and have that luxury) do so because they actually LIKE their jobs. People who choose to establish home-based businesses probably do so because they DISLIKED their former jobs enough to call it quits. In either case, I think it's a fair assumption that people with home offices are probably pretty happy with what they're doing; thus, it seems almost unnecessary to draw "arbitrary" lines in the sand about when you will stop working for the day or week or month. Why stop what you like doing?
Well, because it's healthy not to work all the time, that's why. So in an attempt to organize my week, I decided to strictly adhere to a new self-imposed rule - no computers on Sundays. Yesterday was the trial period and boy, it was HARD. Usually, my day starts around 5:30 or 6 (weekdays or weekends, doesn't matter), when I open my laptop and get to working. I use the term "working" loosely here, because I could be doing something that's actually productive...or I could be reading one of the gazillions of web-zines or blogs that I haunt on a regular basis. Either way, I really like my computer and I like my habit of greeting it early in the morning, bowl of coffee in hand and quiet all around (especially on a weekend, when hubby and dog and cat really don't get up until long after me).
So it was hard not to do that yesterday, especially since I hadn't slept well the previous two nights, during which time I finally got to finish reading that long-awaited Forbes laying on my coffee table. (Ahhhh, conservatism in the early morning hours...turns out it's just as disturbing as it is in the afternoon or evening, yet still completely informative for people fascinated by the psychology of billionaires...but I digress.) I was laying awake staring at the ceiling fan and wondering...worrying, really...what I would do with myself for the next couple of solo hours. So I just laid there until I fell back asleep and it turned out not to be so bad, getting a little shut-eye. And guess what? When hubby and his dog finally woke up, we laid there and had a nice long chat about random things...because I wasn't in the kitchen, on my computer, getting the morning coffee buzz by myself.
The rest of the morning went pretty much the same way - I even watched a bit of T.V., which I haven't done in ages. It turns out that when you're not glued to your computer screen, you can actually have some decent conversations with people...you know, your FAMILY, those people with whom you rarely interact during the week. We talked about all sorts of things and I'm sure I learned a new thing or two - I don't think we've had conversations like that in the time we've been married, actually. Just never happens. I found myself thinking, "So, THIS is what they mean by communication. Huh, whatdya' know? We're pretty good at it." The funny thing is that HE was on his computer some of the time we were talking because HE apparently doesn't have to observe the Computer-Free Sundays rule...
We had plans yesterday that included driving up to Bridgewater, so much of the afternoon was spent in the truck, at a restaurant, and then in the truck again. By that time, I was jonesing a little for technological interaction, so not having my laptop on hand, I reached for the old standby - the trusty iPhone. And then I looked at hubby, who looked back at me and said, "You're ridiculous." At which time I quietly put the phone back in it's place in my bag and looked out the window at the beautiful Jersey Turnpike view (if you're not familiar with the Turnpike, then please inject serious sarcasm into the previous statement). When we got home, I found myself wondering what to do, what to do. Hubby likes to sit outside and read the paper sometimes, so I tried that for about five minutes - didn't work because the allergens were a-swimmin' around my head and making me very uncomfortable. But hey, I gave it a shot. In the time that I WASN'T on my computer, I did laundry, brushed the cat (believe me, this is a serious undertaking), reorganized my closet, straightened up the house, and did some other stuff I can't remember. All without a headache because my eyes weren't strained from staring at a screen all day. Then we watched a Netflix movie that had been sitting around the house for far too long - it turned out to be "Public Enemies," that Johnny Depp movie about John Dillinger. Good stuff - I really liked it, but of course it didn't have a happy ending.
And then I went to bed, at which time I slept almost the whole night! Pretty amazing stuff.
But what really surprised me about the whole Computer-Free Sundays test run was what happened to me this morning. I keep a list of things I need to accomplish on each day during the week so that I know I'm doing everything I should be doing - I've found that when I'm not in a deadline-driven office environment, I have to create my OWN deadline-driven office environment to get anything done. But instead of jumping out of bed and going straight to the computer, at which I would normally sit for several hours before destinkifying myself and going out into the world, I stayed right where I was. In bed. And do you know what I heard?
I heard the coolest bird chirping away. It had this really rhythmic song pattern that I found myself drumming along to.
Why is this amazing? I hear birds every morning, so what was different about this one?
Well, I'll bet you that same bird (or family of birds, as it turns out) has been singing that same rhythmic song outside my window for weeks, but this was the first time I actually HEARD it. I wasn't in a rush to do something else; in fact, I seriously considered making it a Computer-Free Monday, too (but that wouldn't be practical). I heard that bird and I couldn't get up because I liked listening to it so much.
Eventually, I did get up and I'm in my usual position right now - sitting at the kitchen table with my bowl of coffee (this morning, it quite literally is a bowl with a handle on it) and my laptop, no T.V. in the background (I detest daytime television especially), and a snoring dog in the next room. But guess what? I can still hear that bird outside my kitchen window. He and I are friends now - we're making plans to hang out tomorrow morning and probably for the rest of the week. I asked him how the fam was and he says the kids are alright.
t.
----------
P.S. (at about 12:30pm on Monday): Speaking of the wily ways of nature, I just witnessed the most fascinating thing at my kitchen window. I heard very recently that spiders are good to have around if you've got problems with stinkbugs (which we do, like everyone else in our great state right now). I just snapped a pic of a spider dangling down on its little silk rope, where it had captured a stinkbug twice its size. I felt kinda bad taking a picture of the bug's demise, but it's nature - whatdya' gonna' do? Who am I to mess with the natural order of things? Anyway, it made for some pretty interesting viewing - it took a loooooong time for this spider to have its way with the stinkbug, but had its way it DID. Now both are gone somewhere, one digesting the other no doubt. I've always liked spiders. Now I know why.
t.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
What am I looking for?
Well, after three days of lounging around the house in a pain med-induced coma, I'm definitely looking for a way out of here. I'm not conscious enough to do any actual work, but I'm conscious enough to be bored out of my mind. My day is essentially broken up into two parts:
Part One: Laying in bed with my cat, staring up at the ceiling
Part Two: Laying in bed with my cat, staring at a computer screen
Both have gotten old.
For some reason, I have this unbelievable urge to WRITE, to produce something semi-useful so that at the end of this week, I can look back at my recovery and say, "Hey, I was pretty productive." Doesn't look like it's going to happen.
Strangely enough, with all this "free" time on my hands, I've had no desire to turn on the T.V. In fact, I think I hate T.V. - it's really just background noise, but there's enough of that in my head, so why bother?
There's this vast part of me that's grateful for the silence in the house during the day. Then there's this oh-so-tiny part of me that is going absolutely nuts...and I think that part is winning.
It's 9:42 and far past my normal bedtime, but I've slept so much today, I don't know that sleep will come easy tonight. Besides, I've been having such weird dreams, I'm not sure I'm eager to get back to sleep anyway. I'm sure they'd make great stories if I could remember them long enough to write them down when I wake up.
Well, the battery is going to die on my computer and I'm far too lazy to get up and plug it in, so I suppose that's it for tonight. Perhaps I'll have better news tomorrow.
t.
Part One: Laying in bed with my cat, staring up at the ceiling
Part Two: Laying in bed with my cat, staring at a computer screen
Both have gotten old.
For some reason, I have this unbelievable urge to WRITE, to produce something semi-useful so that at the end of this week, I can look back at my recovery and say, "Hey, I was pretty productive." Doesn't look like it's going to happen.
Strangely enough, with all this "free" time on my hands, I've had no desire to turn on the T.V. In fact, I think I hate T.V. - it's really just background noise, but there's enough of that in my head, so why bother?
There's this vast part of me that's grateful for the silence in the house during the day. Then there's this oh-so-tiny part of me that is going absolutely nuts...and I think that part is winning.
It's 9:42 and far past my normal bedtime, but I've slept so much today, I don't know that sleep will come easy tonight. Besides, I've been having such weird dreams, I'm not sure I'm eager to get back to sleep anyway. I'm sure they'd make great stories if I could remember them long enough to write them down when I wake up.
Well, the battery is going to die on my computer and I'm far too lazy to get up and plug it in, so I suppose that's it for tonight. Perhaps I'll have better news tomorrow.
t.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Well, it HAS been awhile, hasn't it?
I've been getting lots of questions about what I'm up to lately, so I thought I'd post a little update for those who are interested.
FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS
Q: What are you up to, Tara?
A: Quite a lot - thanks for asking! Please read on for details...
Q: I heard you were leaving Stockton - is it true?!?!
A: Why yes, it IS true. My last day is May 6, so if you happen to be around campus, stop by and say Aloha!
Q: But aren't you sad about leaving?
A: I am. But as a wise person once said, all good things must come to an end. I have enjoyed my 10 years there, but it's time to give someone else a shot at the job.
Q: What will you do for food?!
A: I will most likely continue to eat a lot of apples and drink a lot of coffee. I don't expect my leaving Stockton will change that at all.
Q: But how will you PAY for food?
A: With money, which of course I will earn at all my other endeavors. If not, there's always scavenging (a highly underutilized and under-appreciated form of sustenance).
Q: I heard you were building a business - is it true?
A: Yes, it is. I've been a freelancer for more than eight years but I just officially registered with the state. It's called Triple Threat Freelancing, LLC and I'm working on my website right now (www.triplethreatfreelancing.com).
Q: But what will you do in the meantime? Businesses aren't built in a day!
A: True, but I've got it covered. I've been working with a wonderful nonprofit and a fantastic small business, and I plan to continue doing that for some time.
Q: What's the nonprofit?
A: New Jersey Coalition Against Sexual Assault (NJCASA; www.njcasa.org); I'm the new AmeriCorps Coordinator.
Q: What's the small business?
A: The Philadelphia International Music Festival (PIMF; www.pimf.org); I do a bit of everything.
Q: Anything else?
A: I have some writing and editing contracts here and there. But they're top-secret...for now. And I'm an adjunct at Atlantic Cape Community College - I believe I may be teaching a couple of classes at Stockton in the fall, too.
Q: But what about medical school? Didn't you say you were going to do that?
A: Yes - yes, I did. Plans have changed slightly, though.
Q: WHAAAATTTTT?! After all that nonsense about changing direction and becoming a world-famous neurologist?
A: I've changed direction again and have decided to pursue a doctorate in neuropsychology, which will allow me to do the same type of work without the time and expense of medical school.
Q: What made you decide that?
A: I'm turning 30 this year. I've been taking stock of my life and what's important to me lately and I realized that I don't want to miss out on my marriage and family for the next ten years.
Q: OK, well that all sounds okay. Will we still hear from you?
A: Yes. I never really go away - I'm like the plague that way (you know, except for the whole fleas-on-rats thing).
t.
FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS
Q: What are you up to, Tara?
A: Quite a lot - thanks for asking! Please read on for details...
Q: I heard you were leaving Stockton - is it true?!?!
A: Why yes, it IS true. My last day is May 6, so if you happen to be around campus, stop by and say Aloha!
Q: But aren't you sad about leaving?
A: I am. But as a wise person once said, all good things must come to an end. I have enjoyed my 10 years there, but it's time to give someone else a shot at the job.
Q: What will you do for food?!
A: I will most likely continue to eat a lot of apples and drink a lot of coffee. I don't expect my leaving Stockton will change that at all.
Q: But how will you PAY for food?
A: With money, which of course I will earn at all my other endeavors. If not, there's always scavenging (a highly underutilized and under-appreciated form of sustenance).
Q: I heard you were building a business - is it true?
A: Yes, it is. I've been a freelancer for more than eight years but I just officially registered with the state. It's called Triple Threat Freelancing, LLC and I'm working on my website right now (www.triplethreatfreelancing.com).
Q: But what will you do in the meantime? Businesses aren't built in a day!
A: True, but I've got it covered. I've been working with a wonderful nonprofit and a fantastic small business, and I plan to continue doing that for some time.
Q: What's the nonprofit?
A: New Jersey Coalition Against Sexual Assault (NJCASA; www.njcasa.org); I'm the new AmeriCorps Coordinator.
Q: What's the small business?
A: The Philadelphia International Music Festival (PIMF; www.pimf.org); I do a bit of everything.
Q: Anything else?
A: I have some writing and editing contracts here and there. But they're top-secret...for now. And I'm an adjunct at Atlantic Cape Community College - I believe I may be teaching a couple of classes at Stockton in the fall, too.
Q: But what about medical school? Didn't you say you were going to do that?
A: Yes - yes, I did. Plans have changed slightly, though.
Q: WHAAAATTTTT?! After all that nonsense about changing direction and becoming a world-famous neurologist?
A: I've changed direction again and have decided to pursue a doctorate in neuropsychology, which will allow me to do the same type of work without the time and expense of medical school.
Q: What made you decide that?
A: I'm turning 30 this year. I've been taking stock of my life and what's important to me lately and I realized that I don't want to miss out on my marriage and family for the next ten years.
Q: OK, well that all sounds okay. Will we still hear from you?
A: Yes. I never really go away - I'm like the plague that way (you know, except for the whole fleas-on-rats thing).
t.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Customer service...the good, the bad, and the ugly
I think I may have found my writing niche - customer service in health care. Or perhaps the lack thereof. I don't know about you, but it seems to me that it might not be so awful to go to doctors if perhaps they were a bit nicer to you.
Let me contextualize. I have chronic sinusitis, and I'm absolutely positive it's worse than it actually sounds. Have you ever had a sinus infection? You know that feeling when your head is all stuffy, your face hurts, and you've got a sore throat from all the post-nasal dripping? You know how sometimes it makes you dizzy and a little bit nauseous, maybe tired and achy? Welcome to my world. Chronic sinusitis is like that ALL THE TIME. I suppose it's got its benefits - after awhile you get so used to constant pain, pressure, and dizziness that the flu feels like nothing at all. So it toughens you up, even if you don't want to BE toughened up.
Anyway, I've been on the lookout for a good Ear, Nose, & Throat doc for some time and one day, I stumbled upon an ad in a local publication touting this one particular doctor and her state-of-the-art method for ridding patients of sinus pain and pressure. Of course I thought to myself, "I got to have me some of that!" so I called her office, made an appointment five weeks away, and waited.
Finally, the day of my appointment came. I was so excited at the prospect of getting rid of the sludge in my face, I couldn't wait to meet her! I showed up early because I knew there'd be tons of paperwork to fill out, so I did all of it, took it proudly to the window, and sat down to wait. And wait. And wait.
An hour and a half past my appointment time, to be precise. An hour. And a half.
To say that I was frustrated would be an understatement. This doctor came with a great reputation and obviously her office was buzzing with people who also couldn't wait to see her. But an hour and a half? That's a bit extreme, don't you think? When she finally came into the exam room, there was no apology, no acknowledgment even that I had been waiting way longer than expected. In fact, I didn't even get a smile. After we were finished, I left with another appointment set for this week. I was irked because I had missed another important appointment while waiting to see this doctor, but I was so glad to have the prospect of sinus surgery on my horizon that I waited anyway. I thought it would be worth it.
My follow-up appointment was originally scheduled for this past Tuesday, so I took another day off of work (having already missed more than my sick days because of constant illness over the last three weeks). A half an hour before my appointment, the receptionist calls and says the doctor has to cancel. I missed another day of work for this, but okay...So I rescheduled for today.
So guess what? I took another day off of work to go to my appointment today. I was cheerful and tried not to be too put off by the poor customer service so far. I went in a bit early and waited. Do you see where I'm going here? I waited another 45 minutes past my appointment time when I FINALLY got the chutzpah to leave. I calmly walked out to the receptionist desk and told the woman there that I couldn't wait any longer. I made it clear that I knew it wasn't her fault, but I was upset because of all the waiting I'd already had to do for this doctor. I didn't want to seem like a nasty or constantly angry patient, but come on!!!! I explained to her that I'd missed three days of work (and other appointments) because this doctor either didn't consider her patients' time to be as valuable as hers OR because she couldn't actually accommodate new patients, as I had been led to believe.
So was I being unreasonable?
No, I don't think I was. I even let her keep my co-pay (which she was going to keep anyway). I left there so angry I could have cried - in fact, I did tear up a bit (sometimes I let my frustration get the best of me). I had wasted so much time and hope on a doctor who just didn't seem all that interested in her patients. Maybe it's because I was new. Maybe it's because she was too busy. Maybe she just happened to be having a bad couple of weeks.
If it had been an isolated incident, I would have gotten over it and continued to go back. But it wasn't isolated - it seems to be this woman's M.O. and that's just a shame. By my calculations, I wasted three sick days; about six hours just waiting, filling out paperwork, and driving to the office (she's about 45 minutes away from my house); at least one tank of fuel driving back and forth; and an unmeasurable amount of emotional energy. All for nothing. I know, I could have just sat and waited some more - then, at least the trip wouldn't have been for nothing, right? But here's the way I see it - you shouldn't do things because you feel cornered into them. I got tired of feeling like I was just a couple of dollar signs to this woman - her receptionist clearly didn't care that I was leaving (and she basically told me so). You know why? Because I'm sure there's five more patients waiting in line behind me who will gladly take my spot. And that's fine with me - I'll find another doctor. I know good ones exist - my family doctor is a great example of how to feel respected and heard as a patient.
I was so angry about the whole situation. I thought about writing a letter to the editor or driving back to the office to tell her what poor customer service skills she had. But to what end? Like Alex pointed out, she still got my copay and she'll probably still bill the insurance company for a visit that never happened. So I opted for focusing on the GOOD customer service I experienced today.
For example, I had to take my car to get fixed at a collision shop (I hit a deer a few months back and tore the grill off the front of my car). Not only did Bogg's Collision in Woodbury treat me well, they actually charged me LESS than the quote and had it done sooner than expected. They were communicative, very nice to speak to, and reasonable. THAT was superior customer service.
And I went to Family Dollar today to get Rosie some more of her tennis sticks (they're made out of the same stuff tennis balls are, but they're sticks so they're easier to pry from her grip). They only had one left, so I asked the cashier if they would get anymore in, and she very cheerfully told me that yes, they would be getting more in. And when I asked her to help me get some tomato cages unstuck from each other so I could buy four instead of the entire box, she gladly assisted. THAT was excellent service, too.
So customer service matters. It even (maybe especially) matters in health care. People don't go to doctors to talk about how well they are, do they? No, they typically go because they're miserable, in pain, sick, whatever. So shouldn't doctors be kind and appreciative of their business? Because just like there's five more people to take the spot of one disgruntled ex-patient, there's about 100 doctors to replace every one I decide doesn't fit the bill.
t.
Let me contextualize. I have chronic sinusitis, and I'm absolutely positive it's worse than it actually sounds. Have you ever had a sinus infection? You know that feeling when your head is all stuffy, your face hurts, and you've got a sore throat from all the post-nasal dripping? You know how sometimes it makes you dizzy and a little bit nauseous, maybe tired and achy? Welcome to my world. Chronic sinusitis is like that ALL THE TIME. I suppose it's got its benefits - after awhile you get so used to constant pain, pressure, and dizziness that the flu feels like nothing at all. So it toughens you up, even if you don't want to BE toughened up.
Anyway, I've been on the lookout for a good Ear, Nose, & Throat doc for some time and one day, I stumbled upon an ad in a local publication touting this one particular doctor and her state-of-the-art method for ridding patients of sinus pain and pressure. Of course I thought to myself, "I got to have me some of that!" so I called her office, made an appointment five weeks away, and waited.
Finally, the day of my appointment came. I was so excited at the prospect of getting rid of the sludge in my face, I couldn't wait to meet her! I showed up early because I knew there'd be tons of paperwork to fill out, so I did all of it, took it proudly to the window, and sat down to wait. And wait. And wait.
An hour and a half past my appointment time, to be precise. An hour. And a half.
To say that I was frustrated would be an understatement. This doctor came with a great reputation and obviously her office was buzzing with people who also couldn't wait to see her. But an hour and a half? That's a bit extreme, don't you think? When she finally came into the exam room, there was no apology, no acknowledgment even that I had been waiting way longer than expected. In fact, I didn't even get a smile. After we were finished, I left with another appointment set for this week. I was irked because I had missed another important appointment while waiting to see this doctor, but I was so glad to have the prospect of sinus surgery on my horizon that I waited anyway. I thought it would be worth it.
My follow-up appointment was originally scheduled for this past Tuesday, so I took another day off of work (having already missed more than my sick days because of constant illness over the last three weeks). A half an hour before my appointment, the receptionist calls and says the doctor has to cancel. I missed another day of work for this, but okay...So I rescheduled for today.
So guess what? I took another day off of work to go to my appointment today. I was cheerful and tried not to be too put off by the poor customer service so far. I went in a bit early and waited. Do you see where I'm going here? I waited another 45 minutes past my appointment time when I FINALLY got the chutzpah to leave. I calmly walked out to the receptionist desk and told the woman there that I couldn't wait any longer. I made it clear that I knew it wasn't her fault, but I was upset because of all the waiting I'd already had to do for this doctor. I didn't want to seem like a nasty or constantly angry patient, but come on!!!! I explained to her that I'd missed three days of work (and other appointments) because this doctor either didn't consider her patients' time to be as valuable as hers OR because she couldn't actually accommodate new patients, as I had been led to believe.
So was I being unreasonable?
No, I don't think I was. I even let her keep my co-pay (which she was going to keep anyway). I left there so angry I could have cried - in fact, I did tear up a bit (sometimes I let my frustration get the best of me). I had wasted so much time and hope on a doctor who just didn't seem all that interested in her patients. Maybe it's because I was new. Maybe it's because she was too busy. Maybe she just happened to be having a bad couple of weeks.
If it had been an isolated incident, I would have gotten over it and continued to go back. But it wasn't isolated - it seems to be this woman's M.O. and that's just a shame. By my calculations, I wasted three sick days; about six hours just waiting, filling out paperwork, and driving to the office (she's about 45 minutes away from my house); at least one tank of fuel driving back and forth; and an unmeasurable amount of emotional energy. All for nothing. I know, I could have just sat and waited some more - then, at least the trip wouldn't have been for nothing, right? But here's the way I see it - you shouldn't do things because you feel cornered into them. I got tired of feeling like I was just a couple of dollar signs to this woman - her receptionist clearly didn't care that I was leaving (and she basically told me so). You know why? Because I'm sure there's five more patients waiting in line behind me who will gladly take my spot. And that's fine with me - I'll find another doctor. I know good ones exist - my family doctor is a great example of how to feel respected and heard as a patient.
I was so angry about the whole situation. I thought about writing a letter to the editor or driving back to the office to tell her what poor customer service skills she had. But to what end? Like Alex pointed out, she still got my copay and she'll probably still bill the insurance company for a visit that never happened. So I opted for focusing on the GOOD customer service I experienced today.
For example, I had to take my car to get fixed at a collision shop (I hit a deer a few months back and tore the grill off the front of my car). Not only did Bogg's Collision in Woodbury treat me well, they actually charged me LESS than the quote and had it done sooner than expected. They were communicative, very nice to speak to, and reasonable. THAT was superior customer service.
And I went to Family Dollar today to get Rosie some more of her tennis sticks (they're made out of the same stuff tennis balls are, but they're sticks so they're easier to pry from her grip). They only had one left, so I asked the cashier if they would get anymore in, and she very cheerfully told me that yes, they would be getting more in. And when I asked her to help me get some tomato cages unstuck from each other so I could buy four instead of the entire box, she gladly assisted. THAT was excellent service, too.
So customer service matters. It even (maybe especially) matters in health care. People don't go to doctors to talk about how well they are, do they? No, they typically go because they're miserable, in pain, sick, whatever. So shouldn't doctors be kind and appreciative of their business? Because just like there's five more people to take the spot of one disgruntled ex-patient, there's about 100 doctors to replace every one I decide doesn't fit the bill.
t.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Procrastination be damned!
My name is Tara and I am a bonafide, dyed-in-the-wool procrastinator. In fact, I'm probably procrastinating right now, although off the top of my head I can't think of anything else I should be doing. Which may be the problem.
I was just scanning my email when I came across this very interesting (and timely) article about procrastinators. It's certainly not the first time I've read something about procrastination, but it IS the first time I've read anything about procrastination potentially being a psychological disorder. And hey, why not?
See, in this article two experts talk about how procrastination is really just symptomatic of a chronic misjudgment of time, inability to make decisions, and failure to take responsibility for one's life. I can't really argue with any of that (although I think it's a stretch to call it a disorder in and of itself). Although I'm rarely late for things, I do have a tendency to misjudge how much time I have to complete a task or how much time it will actually take me to do that task. I'm one of those dreadful people who keeps all of her clocks ten minutes ahead of time so that I feel like I'm running late just so there's enough pressure for me to light a fire under my own ass. Anyone who knows me also knows I'm TERRIBLE at making decisions - I mean positively paralytic when it comes to deciding on Special K or Fruity Pebbles (because I always WANT Fruity Pebbles but I know they're worse for me than Special K, so there's always this internal battle going on in the cereal aisle).
I'm definitely a chronic procrastinator. So what's a girl to do?
Well, when that girl is getting ready to start working for herself (i.e., depending entirely on her own ability to drum up jobs and meet actual deadlines), that girl panics.
She thinks, "OMG, self, what the hell were you thinking?"
And then she goes into self-preservation mode and starts blogging instead of addressing the actual problem.
I will say that I've been much more proactive than I typically am when I decided that working for myself was the way to go - I've gotten linked up with a bunch of freelance organizations, I've already gotten a few side jobs to help pay the bills, and I've EVEN saved a little cash as a failure-cushion. But I have a feeling there's still much ground to travel before I REALLY and truly except the fact that I'm screwed if I don't get a little dose of self-discipline.
I'm pretty sure procrastination is showing up in other areas of my life, too. In fact, I'm positive of it. You know that six-figure student loan debt I've wracked up? Well, I have found many ways over the year to defer payment to my debtors (legitimately, of course), but really all that means is that I'll be paying off my education well into my 70s.
And I managed to put off serving jury duty for ten years and in three different counties until I just didn't have any good excuses anymore and you know where I ended up? Camden. I guess that's what happens when you put things off unnecessarily.
So that brings me to question what else I'm putting off. What else am I not acknowledging because I don't have the strength-of-character to deal with it? Good question. I think I'll think about it tomorrow.
t.
I was just scanning my email when I came across this very interesting (and timely) article about procrastinators. It's certainly not the first time I've read something about procrastination, but it IS the first time I've read anything about procrastination potentially being a psychological disorder. And hey, why not?
See, in this article two experts talk about how procrastination is really just symptomatic of a chronic misjudgment of time, inability to make decisions, and failure to take responsibility for one's life. I can't really argue with any of that (although I think it's a stretch to call it a disorder in and of itself). Although I'm rarely late for things, I do have a tendency to misjudge how much time I have to complete a task or how much time it will actually take me to do that task. I'm one of those dreadful people who keeps all of her clocks ten minutes ahead of time so that I feel like I'm running late just so there's enough pressure for me to light a fire under my own ass. Anyone who knows me also knows I'm TERRIBLE at making decisions - I mean positively paralytic when it comes to deciding on Special K or Fruity Pebbles (because I always WANT Fruity Pebbles but I know they're worse for me than Special K, so there's always this internal battle going on in the cereal aisle).
I'm definitely a chronic procrastinator. So what's a girl to do?
Well, when that girl is getting ready to start working for herself (i.e., depending entirely on her own ability to drum up jobs and meet actual deadlines), that girl panics.
She thinks, "OMG, self, what the hell were you thinking?"
And then she goes into self-preservation mode and starts blogging instead of addressing the actual problem.
I will say that I've been much more proactive than I typically am when I decided that working for myself was the way to go - I've gotten linked up with a bunch of freelance organizations, I've already gotten a few side jobs to help pay the bills, and I've EVEN saved a little cash as a failure-cushion. But I have a feeling there's still much ground to travel before I REALLY and truly except the fact that I'm screwed if I don't get a little dose of self-discipline.
I'm pretty sure procrastination is showing up in other areas of my life, too. In fact, I'm positive of it. You know that six-figure student loan debt I've wracked up? Well, I have found many ways over the year to defer payment to my debtors (legitimately, of course), but really all that means is that I'll be paying off my education well into my 70s.
And I managed to put off serving jury duty for ten years and in three different counties until I just didn't have any good excuses anymore and you know where I ended up? Camden. I guess that's what happens when you put things off unnecessarily.
So that brings me to question what else I'm putting off. What else am I not acknowledging because I don't have the strength-of-character to deal with it? Good question. I think I'll think about it tomorrow.
t.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Ash Wednesday...and all that
Today is Ash Wednesday. Know how I know? Because there's a priest in the hallway outside my office drawing on people's faces. Know how else I know? Because all day today, I've been looking at people who evidently didn't think ahead and got their faces drawn on early this morning, only to find that ashes pretty much liquify and run down your face after you've been sweating all day. What can I say? I know some pretty sweaty people.
So here's what happened.
I was getting that oh-so-familiar hunger for chocolate delighfulness around 3:30, so I felt up my pockets to see if I could dig up change for some peanutty M&Ms. Lucky for me, I had a couple of bucks so I ambled on out into the hallway to haunt the vending machine (which happens to haunt me just about eight hours a day). I saw the priest talking to some sorority girls and commending them for organizing some religious hullabaloo in honor of Ash Wednesday (my guess is they were repenting mightily for whatever they did on Fat Tuesday). I didn't think much of it...until my second trip out to the vending machine for another bag of M&Ms (it's been a rough day). As I was trying to slip by the priest unnoticed, I suddenly felt his eyes on me - you might say it felt as though the very eyes of God were drilling into my ravenous, chocolate-hungry soul. For a moment, I wondered if he had noticed my first trip to the machine and if so, was he judging me for what was obviously a bad case of gluttony? I mean, gluttony is a sin, right? I think those big stone blocks had something to say about it.
Now listen, I'm not a religious person. I believe in God, though, so when I pass a nun or a priest, you better believe I put on my "I'm behaving" look and walk on by just as sweetly as I can. But I will tell you that priests (more so than nuns) make me feel a little slimy - I don't know if it's all the scandal that surrounds them or if it's all the scandal that surrounds my aberrant chocolate-eating behaviors, but whenever I pass a priest, I feel like I should go take a shower. I feel like I'm being JUDGED.
So it got me thinking, this whole middle-of-the-hallway judgment thing that was happening to me - why is it that the priest is staring ME down as I walk innocently by, as if to ask me why I haven't been saved from my hedonistic ways? Why is it that when an Orthodox Jew or Muslim walks by, he just politely smiles and nods at them? I've got a theory...
There is a certain degree of political correctness in a priest acting respectfully towards someone who is CLEARLY of a religion that is diametrically opposed to Catholicism. I'm one of those people who thinks the basic tenets of all religions are essentially the same - there is certainly something beautifully fascinating in the details of each, but altogether, everyone just wants the world to be a shiny, happy place, right? (Except for the nutjobs, of course.) But there is absolutely NO political correctness in letting someone who is clearly a heathen pass un-accosted by the Catholic church's holy recruiters. I think there are two things at work here:
1. The priest basically has no hope of saving the Orthodox Jew or Muslim and he knows it. They're going to hell and he knows that, too. Still, he can be nice in his pity for their damned souls because he knows his chance of recruiting them is slim to none. And why would he want to anyway? The Jews killed Jesus (and apparently ate babies) and the Muslims are all violent, American-hating freaks.
2. The priest does know, however, when he's looking at a potentially Christian sinner. I'm conspicuous in my lack of religious attire. In fact, I might as well be a hooker as far as he's concerned. "Look at that skirt, so far above her calves!" he's thinking, all the while calculating his approach and how he can successfully use the least amount of energy in making me feel the greatest amount of guilt. Well, this is what I imagine is happening anyway.
So basically, because I choose not to wear my deity on my sleeve (which is an interesting analogy, given my sudden interest in getting the great, fat Buddha tattooed down my entire arm), I am fair game. And all of a sudden, I am drowning in the judgment of the Catholic Campus Ministry priest's stare. I can feel it on my back, and if I'm not mistaken, he was checking out my ass, too.
Does God hate me because I'm speaking so disrespectfully of a priest? Nah, probably not. I'm pretty sure he doesn't like most of them, either.
t.
So here's what happened.
I was getting that oh-so-familiar hunger for chocolate delighfulness around 3:30, so I felt up my pockets to see if I could dig up change for some peanutty M&Ms. Lucky for me, I had a couple of bucks so I ambled on out into the hallway to haunt the vending machine (which happens to haunt me just about eight hours a day). I saw the priest talking to some sorority girls and commending them for organizing some religious hullabaloo in honor of Ash Wednesday (my guess is they were repenting mightily for whatever they did on Fat Tuesday). I didn't think much of it...until my second trip out to the vending machine for another bag of M&Ms (it's been a rough day). As I was trying to slip by the priest unnoticed, I suddenly felt his eyes on me - you might say it felt as though the very eyes of God were drilling into my ravenous, chocolate-hungry soul. For a moment, I wondered if he had noticed my first trip to the machine and if so, was he judging me for what was obviously a bad case of gluttony? I mean, gluttony is a sin, right? I think those big stone blocks had something to say about it.
Now listen, I'm not a religious person. I believe in God, though, so when I pass a nun or a priest, you better believe I put on my "I'm behaving" look and walk on by just as sweetly as I can. But I will tell you that priests (more so than nuns) make me feel a little slimy - I don't know if it's all the scandal that surrounds them or if it's all the scandal that surrounds my aberrant chocolate-eating behaviors, but whenever I pass a priest, I feel like I should go take a shower. I feel like I'm being JUDGED.
So it got me thinking, this whole middle-of-the-hallway judgment thing that was happening to me - why is it that the priest is staring ME down as I walk innocently by, as if to ask me why I haven't been saved from my hedonistic ways? Why is it that when an Orthodox Jew or Muslim walks by, he just politely smiles and nods at them? I've got a theory...
There is a certain degree of political correctness in a priest acting respectfully towards someone who is CLEARLY of a religion that is diametrically opposed to Catholicism. I'm one of those people who thinks the basic tenets of all religions are essentially the same - there is certainly something beautifully fascinating in the details of each, but altogether, everyone just wants the world to be a shiny, happy place, right? (Except for the nutjobs, of course.) But there is absolutely NO political correctness in letting someone who is clearly a heathen pass un-accosted by the Catholic church's holy recruiters. I think there are two things at work here:
1. The priest basically has no hope of saving the Orthodox Jew or Muslim and he knows it. They're going to hell and he knows that, too. Still, he can be nice in his pity for their damned souls because he knows his chance of recruiting them is slim to none. And why would he want to anyway? The Jews killed Jesus (and apparently ate babies) and the Muslims are all violent, American-hating freaks.
2. The priest does know, however, when he's looking at a potentially Christian sinner. I'm conspicuous in my lack of religious attire. In fact, I might as well be a hooker as far as he's concerned. "Look at that skirt, so far above her calves!" he's thinking, all the while calculating his approach and how he can successfully use the least amount of energy in making me feel the greatest amount of guilt. Well, this is what I imagine is happening anyway.
So basically, because I choose not to wear my deity on my sleeve (which is an interesting analogy, given my sudden interest in getting the great, fat Buddha tattooed down my entire arm), I am fair game. And all of a sudden, I am drowning in the judgment of the Catholic Campus Ministry priest's stare. I can feel it on my back, and if I'm not mistaken, he was checking out my ass, too.
Does God hate me because I'm speaking so disrespectfully of a priest? Nah, probably not. I'm pretty sure he doesn't like most of them, either.
t.
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