I had two amusing conversations recently. They were both with people in the medical field. Coincidence… or not?!

The first was with a guy calling from our online pharmacy:

Phone: ring ring!

Me: Hello?

Guy: (Sounding EXTREMELY mellow…) Uh, yeah. Is Jon home?

Me: No, he’s not. May I take a message?

Guy: Hmm. Well, like, who’s this?

Me: (Having seen the caller ID and knowing roughly who I was talking to…) This is his wife, Marian.

Guy: Uh, yeah. Hi. So, like, this is the pharmacy and we received a prescription for Jon.

Me: (Wondering if the guy has been sampling his own wares…) Right.

Guy: And I was just wondering. You guys want me to fill this?

Me: Well… yeah.

Guy: Okay. Bye.

Me: Wait, wait! Is there a reason why we wouldn’t want you to?

Guy: It’s just like, doctors’ offices used to send us prescriptions and we would fill them without asking the patient, and then we got in big trouble.

Me: (Bemused by the notion of doctors’ offices randomly faxing out prescriptions to pharmacies…) Really?

Guy: Yeah. Like, it got really bad.

Me: I’m sorry to hear that.

Guy: So you’re saying you want this stuff?

Me: It’s the nasal spray, right?

Guy: Umm, yeah. Pretty good stuff, too.

Me: (Wondering: who is this guy, really?) Yes, please.

Guy: Okay. I’ll get right on that.

Me: (Thinking: yeah, after he finishes his marijuana brownie…) Okay; thanks.

Surprisingly, we did receive the prescription in a reasonable amount of time. And it was the right stuff.

The other conversation happened between me and the receptionist when I was checking in to see my doctor. They have a new security system: they take a picture of the veins in the palm of your hand and then use it to verify your identity. According to the receptionist, the patterns of the veins in your hand don’t change from birth to death, unlike thumb prints, and this system helps defeat people who steal insurance cards.

Receptionist: …and if it isn’t you, we pretend everything’s okay and check the person in, then lead them to an examination room, and call security!

Me: Yikes!

Receptionist: Yeah, they don’t want us confronting anyone, but they want to catch those people.

Me: I guess so.

Receptionist: So, your husband is Marcello Arguello, right?

Me: No.

Receptionist: Are you sure?

Me: Uh… yes?

Receptionist: Well, do you live on Candelera Lane and work at Children’s Hospital?

Me: (Getting worried…) No?

Receptionist: Are any of those things correct?

Me: (Starting to panic…) No?

Receptionist: (Looking at me suspiciously…) Hmmm!

Me: (Wondering if she was now going to check me in, lead me to an examination room, and call security…) Are you sure you’re looking at my record?

Receptionist: (Squinting at the screen…) Well, yeah… Wait a minute! No, I’m not. This isn’t you AT ALL.

Me: I didn’t think so.

Receptionist: Sorry about that.

Me: You scared me! I thought you were going to call the cops on me.

Receptionist: Ha ha!

She found the correct record and checked me in. Did I spend a few nervous moments in the examination room, wondering whether the door would open to reveal the nurse or a particularly burly security guard? Of course not!