Well, gang, I've got to get glasses, which is no surprise since I can no longer distinguish the dates on pennies and trying to untangle a necklace is an all day affair. Also, work is a challenge what with all the supercomputing I do. So, last fall, I bit the bullet and signed up for vision care. The enrollment period was in October and coverage was effective in December. I waited and waited and waited for my card to appear. Eventually it did...like say a week ago. So I made my appointment and a week later, I set off to have my eyes examined.
I don't know about you, but I LOVE getting my eyes examined. I've always had fine vision (except in college when I was experiencing the same issues I have now for the same basic reasons). So I get to sit in the dark and answer tons of questions I totally know the answer too, all while having my head in some super-sci-fi contraption. I have trouble governing my glee.
This last time was no different. I was really enjoying the exam. That is, until the doc went into his hard sell. I want to test you for cateracts (!) and I can do that by giving you the drops and basically fucking up your day or you can pay $35 and I can use my new toy to take a picture of your retina.
I told him I wasn't prepared to do either today and he said he'd set me up for an appointment when I pick up my glasses. I couldn't think of a way to weasel out; his sales mojo was too strong for me. So I submitted to the $35 test because I just couldn't obligate myself to one more thing. I don't have all day to waste with blurry vision and light sensitivity. In hindsight, I could have agreed to the appointment an skived off of it later. Rats! Why didn't I think of that at the time.
Once all the testing was done, he informed me that I was farsighted and that close up vision troubles occur earlier in our kind. That fact combined with my eye strain at work prompted him to give me a perscription for spectacles. He then escorted me over to the shopping area where I could pick out my new frames. He handed me off to the eyeglass sales person and bid me adieu. The glasses lady then immediately tried to sell me anti-glare lenses with all the tomfoolery of a warranty.
"I don't need that type of protection; I'll only be wearing these for work...I won't be driving or wearing them outside," I said.
"Well, it would still reduce glare..." she said, but I could see she had given up. She's obviously not the salesman her boss is.
After running through all the options, and telling her I wanted the type of frames where I pay nothing and my insurance covers it in total, which amounted to plastic lenses and plastic frames, she offered to find some frames for me. Why I couldn't walk over and look for them myself, I'll never know.
"Do you like trendy frames?" she asked.
"Sure," I replied.
She brought over eight pairs of glasses all identical but for the color. I tried them on and they were really too small for my face.
"Are there bigger frames than these?" I asked.
"You won't need bigger frames for what you're using them for," she snotted. Touche, I thought.
"Are these the only frames in my price range?"
"The only trendy ones..."
"How about the non-trendy ones?" I asked, knowing she was hiding something from me.
She sighed and gallumphed her way over to the frame ghetto where the cheapo frames were and I dogged her every step. She finally admitted that I could get any frame for $100 or less and she waved her hands in a general area of the frames that met my criteria. My eyes landed on the exact pair I wanted.
I tried them on and they were perfect. Black frames with rhinstone accents (natch). They fit my face just right.
"I like these!" I said.
"I didn't bring those over to you because I thought they were too big," she said, lamely.
Somehow, this felt like victory. That is until she told me that she'd call me when the frames were ready...in about a week.