Don't Be A Complete Tool

Saturday was my annual* eye exam.  I dread them because I'm just waiting for the time when the optometrist tells me I can no longer wear my contacts.  It hasn't come yet, but I know it's around the corner and I'm going to stockpile contacts like crazy cry a lot and put my damn glasses on.

This year I also made an appointment for Mr. Awesomeness.  He hasn't had his eyes checked since his exam for the Army and that was in 1996.  He's always had better than 20/20 vision, but lately he's been complaining that his vision isn't as sharp as he's used to.  I thought it was past time for him to go see the doctor.

Mr. A went first, and while he was getting his exam, the doctor's assistant did all the fun tests with me, like the glaucoma test and that shitty test where you have to click the button when you see squiggly lines.

I really hate that test.  The squiggle test.  What the fuck is that all about?  They tell you to concentrate on a dot in the middle of the screen while little squiggly lines randomly flash up.  My vision starts to go gray about every 5 seconds and I have to close my eyes for a second to clear it.  Then I get all paranoid that I missed some squiggles, so I click the button about every 3 seconds or so whether or not I see the lines.

In order to perform the tests, they asked me to take my contacts out.  After it was over, they had me leave the contacts out and take a seat until the doctor was ready to see me.  Now I'm sitting in the waiting area completely blind.  At least the staff thought it was funny.  When it was time for me to be seen, the assistant says, "I know you can't see me right now, but just follow the bright white blob."  Ha ha, very funny motherfucker.

My eye exam took longer than usual.  It took me a while to fill the doctor in on all my previous eye drama, eye drop allergies, etc.  Also, for some reason, the squiggly line test produced some "interesting" results....(whoops!) so she had to measure my vision in my left eye using manual tools.  Then she squirted dye in my eyes because she wanted to see my scars. (My eyeballs are totally macho.)  All together, my exam took about an hour.

I thought for sure that Mr. A would be totally ready to go when I got out.  Nope.  The ladies at the front counter inform me that he's been waiting for me to be done so I can help him pick out glasses.  Glasses?  Bwahahahahaha!  I asked him, "What did she say you need them for?"

"Well, she didn't really say.  I guess I would just wear them while I'm driving," he said.  What the fuck?  How could she have missed telling him when he would need to wear his prescription?  She seemed like a pretty sharp lady, so I was pretty sure the confusion was all Mr. A's.

Since he was going to wear them for driving, we settled on getting him a pair of prescription sunglasses.  This process includes: looking at every prescription-ready frame at least twice, trying them all on, looking at them in a downward angle, looking at them in an upward angle, testing the hinges.  Old ladies don't put as much effort into this.  When he finally settled on a pair, I had to check my phone to see what year it was.

$55 for the frames and the lenses are covered.  Awesome!  Let's go!!  Nope, we need the special blue tint.  Fuck.  Then he needs some other expensive tint or it's going to fuck up his mojo or something.  Shit.  Then the dipshit lady adding up all of his completely unnecessary add-ons can't work the computer.  Iwillfuckingkillyoulady!!  By the time she was done, it added up to a ridiculous $110.  Ugh.

After an hour and 15 minutes, he's finally checking out.  Oh. My. God.  Finally!  Then out comes the optometrist.  Her day is done.  Or she was retiring.  I couldn't tell.  She was a little surprised that we were still there.  Me too.

After we left, I told him about how my appointment went & I asked him about how bad his eyes were that he needed glasses.

I'm not sure why I need glasses.  She said that my eyes were still at least 20/20.  She only tested for 20/20, though.

So, to recap, I spent an hour and 15 minutes picking out and expensively customizing glasses for a motherfucker who has perfect vision.

I wanted to punch him right then.

*by annual exam, I mean as annually as I remember