Today has been a rather annoying day. My daughter is sick-ish. I say “ish” because we went to the doctor this morning, only to find out she likely doesn’t have strep or anything bacterial. It looks like our first “lovely” virus of the season has come home to roost. So, while my daughter feels pretty crummy, overall, there isn’t much that can be done for it. Like so many other things in life, she just has to live through it. It seems I might also be living through it very soon. I now have a sore throat, congestion, and headache. I think my kiddo managed to pass her ick along to me. Perhaps this means she will soon be on the mend. My husband has a theory that, in order to recover from a virus or cold, you must pass it along to someone else. In our house, I am usually the “someone else”. Yahoo.
As for me, I got into an argument over the phone with my daughter’s dentist’s receptionist. (Try saying that three times really fast!) Up until this morning, I thought my daughter was struggling with allergies. As soon as I found out it is actually a virus, I called to cancel her dental appointment. I would prefer to keep the appointment because it’s a pain to reschedule due to my daughter’s marching band commitments. But I thought it would be kinder to cancel in order to avoid exposing the hygienists to my kiddo’s germy mouth and face.
Here’s the problem: the dentist has a 24-hour cancellation policy. I didn’t give them the required 24-hour notice, so the receptionist informed me that I would be charged the next time this happened. When I explained to the receptionist that we only just found out my daughter had a virus, as opposed to allergies, she said she understood that. She also said she understood there was no way I could have known in enough time to meet their notice requirements. But I still needed to tell them 24 hours ahead of time. Basically, in this instance, I would have had to be psychic in order to give them the required notice. But, of course, this doesn’t matter. The policy is the policy is the policy. And there are no exceptions to the policy. Keep in mind the dentist has canceled on us several times with two or three-hours notice. It seems the whole 24-hour thing doesn’t apply to him. Since I’m not psychic, I guess I will have to take my sick kid to the dentist next time. When I tried to explain this to the receptionist, she insisted this is not what she was saying. She was only saying they have a 24-hour notice policy, and I have to give them 24-hours notice even when my daughter is sick. Okay … Again, not psychic. But, whatever.
I’m usually so easy-going. I am the last person to argue with someone or make a fuss about anything. I was trained, from an early age, to put the feelings of pretty much everyone ahead of my own. But this felt so ridiculous to me. After trying, politely, to discuss this with the receptionist, it became obvious we were getting nowhere fast. I ended up cutting her off with a “thank you” and hanging up on her. I don’t know if they are going to charge me for this missed visit or not.
Then, I ducked into my local Ulta to see if I could replace a nail polish I broke yesterday. My hunt was successful, which was awesome. As I was standing in line to pay, the woman in front of me had a coupon for buy one, get one 50% off. She had two make-up pencil things, and she wanted to use her coupon on them. Seems easy enough. Except, her coupon wouldn’t work. The cashier left to go check with her manager. She came back and informed the woman in front of me that the coupon wasn’t going to work. It was for any eye or face product, and one of the products this woman wanted to buy was a lip pencil. The woman in front of me said, “Oh. Okay.” And just left it at that.
But … seriously … aren’t your lips on your face? I was standing there, listening to this whole exchange, and I was right on the verge of saying, “Wait. Not okay! Where are your lips? ‘Cuz mine are on my face.” But then, I remembered these were strangers, and I didn’t have any horse in this particular race. I practically had to cover my mouth with my hand to keep the words from popping out of their own accord.
When I told my daughter about this, she looked at me and said, “Mom. You’re really sassy today, aren’t you?”
Um … yep! I guess I am.