Hello, Failure

Of all the enemies of literature, success is the most insidious

Thursday, September 16, 2004

Failure of the Day: Smote, con’t.

You know, when one is writing a novel in which every chapter is a doctor appointment, one needs to be able to take that generally clinical and brief interaction and turn it into something worthwhile and interesting. Or at least horrifying. I am slowly learning how to do just that.

Today I had an issue to discuss with my GP, so I called her and left a message. A little while later, she called me back at work and I told her what the trouble was. She told me that she would give me a prescription. Being the quick thinker that I am, I immediately opened my browser, found the Walgreens site, searched the site for stores by zip code, and was able to provide the doc with the number for my pharmacy within about 15 seconds of her saying she could call in the Rx. No office visit. No exam. No paper dress. No co-pay. From start to finish: 2 minutes.

I was initially so delighted with this transaction that not even Ling Ling, the world’s surliest office manager, hurling my paycheck at my feet could dampen my spirits. But then it dawned on me…long and terrible doctor appointments are my stock and trade! Cheerful 2 minute phone conversations will not do. There’s no way I can transform that into, y’know, great literature. There must be something else I can use it for! Hey! I have an idea…


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