Me: [hands clerk money]
Clerk: [hands back change] "POWER!"
Me: "…Yes!" [Mental Note: What?]
…..
Thursday night, heading home after work, I stood on the train platform awaiting an outbound train towards home …I always walk to the front of the platform, in hopes of catching the first or second car (Rush hour aside –Generally, a given for a seat) …Unfortunately, the heating lamps do not reach the front of the platform so I stood there, bundled up like a ninja, peering down the tracks (And yeah ok –My pride scoffs at cold –Scoff!)…A CTA worker came up the stairs to start his rounds …Pushing the heating lamps on –And that's how I met Benjamin and learned that A. It's hard being both British and black, B. That I have "very nice, amazing" bone structure.
[CTA worker walks closer to my end of the platform]
CTA Worker: [in a surprising British accent]: "Aren't you cold? Why not stand underneath the heating lamp?"
Me: [Yes, cold …A tad blurry-eyed, tired, headphones on] "Sorry?"
CTA Worker: "It's cold –You must be freezing"
Me: "A train will be here soon –Plus, the cold keeps me awake." (Let the verbal diarrhea begin!)
[Blah blah blah …He asks what I do, I say student/vet assistant –No, I don't want to be a veterinarian …Blah blah blah …He's been in the States for a handful of years, born/raised outside of Manchester, UK. He likes "football" (shocker) …We both agree that Chicago's a great city, love living here, blah blah –I keep peering down the platform for a train]
CTA Worker: "A lot of people question what I am –'Are you black?' Of course I'm black! It's my accent that alarms them at first, I fear. I was shocked to find such ignorance in New York City. Such ignorance!"
Me: "Ah …I can imagine" [Mental Note: Ok …Train? Anyone? Anyone?]
CTA Worker: "Once they get to know me though, they see that I'm just like them …I mean, I too like sports. I don't deal with much of that in Chicago –There are so many cultures and niches to fit into. Are you sure we haven't talked before?"
Me: "I'm afraid not" [Where are you train?]
CTA Worker: 'I'd definitely remember you. I saw you walking up on the platform –You have very nice –amazing –bone structure. Very memorable." [motions to his face]
Me: "Ah, thank you" [Here we go …Oo wait, headlights! Hooray a train!]
CTA Worker: "I'm Benjamin –Not Ben, I've really enjoyed our conversation. I hope to see you more often around this stop" [offers gloved hand]
Me: "Nice to meet you Benjamin –Not Ben. Take care" [I walked onto the train, pushing my scarf over my "very nice –amazing" bone structure]
…..
I worked Friday morning until Noon, per usual …My "must" for the day was to stop by my cats' vet (a few blocks away) and pick up more dry food (I mentioned this process a few weeks back …Since Primo's diabetic, he's on "special" diabetic dry food –Delicious). This time around, I also wanted to see if the vet could fax Primo's medical records to my work, since I really want Primo see one of the vets @ my work. It was actually, this very week, last year, that Primo first crashed diabetic and while I was amazed @ the care Primo received throughout his grueling 5 day stay @ the vet (The vet would call @ 130AM "Almost lost him but we got him back" and telling me that "we're trying all that we can and I have a lot of hope but you really should prepare yourself for the worst") –Such top-notch care has slowly been on the decline. His vet is on his way towards retirement and has had a stand-in vet the past handful of times I've had to take Primo in (She's the one that calls him "sir," every other sentence). Short of the a somewhat long/boring explanation: The vets @ my work come highly recommended and I have the employee perk of discounted service. It's silly that I've waited this long.
I should mention that on my way out, as I opened my apartment door, I noticed something eerily reminiscent of last February …Spotting @ the front door. That immediately sounded the alarms …The last time Primo started spotting @ the front door, was when he crashed …Mental Note: NO! (in a high pitch mental note scream).
After paying for the (overpriced) bag of dry food …
Me: "Also, I was wondering if it'd be possible to fax Primo's medical records to my work …?"
Ms. Rude VA: "Um, what? Fax them to your …work? WHY?"
Me: "Yes …I work @ Treehouse and I'd like a copy of Primo's medical records"
Ms. Rude VA: "Um …I don't know how to do that [pause] …Do you really need a copy? I guess I could copy it for you"
Me: "Yes, that'd work"
[10 minutes pass …She asks for the spelling of my last name 4 separate times and I find myself thinking of what my Mom used to tell people "Phelps –P as in Peter, S as in Sam"]
Ms. RudeVA: [talking a few feet away w/ another assistant] "Yeah, THIS GIRL WANTS A COPY OF HER CAT'S MEDICAL RECORDS BECAUSE SHE'S GOING TO ANOTHER VET! Do I just COPY them for HER? WHAT? No, she wants to go to ANOTHER VET"
Me: [Mental Note: Geeze, all I asked for was my cat's medical record and she was acting as though I said "You know, that scrub top is doing nothing for your figure" Plus, she made sure I heard her annoyed sighs]
[10 minutes later …]
Ms. Rude: "HERE! THEY'RE NOT IN ORDER. Now is THAT all?"
Me: "Yes, that's all, thank you …And just so you know, it's not a matter of switching vets. I still have two cats that see Dr. Kas."
Ms. Rude VA: "WHATEVER"
Lovely.
Later that evening, Primo and I played an ongoing game of catch and I fully gave in to his "I have a broken pancreas" guilt trip.
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