Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Loud Talkers - Go Home

It is one thing to spend two hours at the vet because your dog needs that much care.  It is another to spend two hours because the person with the appointment before you decides she and her dog are so important that she needs to hold a seminar with the doctor discussing all the wonderful skills, personality traits, habits and general obedience perks her dog has.   Let's add to the fact that I'm sitting in the office, trying to hold my boxer back from wanting to play 'king of the mountain' with the office cat (who, incidentally would have been the mountain),  and I can hear EVERY WORD this woman is saying so clearly, that she might as well have had the door open and been talking directly to me.

"Oh no, Doctor, our Lexi is a great dog. She's amazing.  Our dog can do anything.  Why are we here? Oh no reason.  We just like attention and because no one will listen to us because we are so damn annoying, we have to pay your office just so we can have un-divided attention and tout all of our wonderful attributes, which are none."

I'm sitting in the waiting room, listening to this woman go on and on and on about nothing to do with the reason she's there. (Which, never did come up in the conversation.)  I'm thinking something to do with her dog's menstrual cycle since I heard her say, "let's go ahead and get her fixed.  No more puppies for you, Lexi! Guess you're done being a mom.  No more play time in the barn with Baxter."  (I know you're wondering and yes - I was trying not to laugh out loud.) But seriously...you've been in there for an hour at least!  Shut the F up or at least pipe down so I can assume there is something seriously wrong, that being the reason you are so disrespectful by taking up my appointment AND the cat lady's who came in after me.

By the time she FINALLY left the room without dear, sweet, Lexi, her dad had come into the waiting room.  I'm assuming he got sick of waiting in the car for his obnoxious offspring.  I really don't feel I'm doing justice to this woman's ability to make every person she meets cringe and want to take a fist to her face.

Imagine if Gilbert Gottfried and Kathy Griffin had a child.  (Images from Google Search)

And then gave it up for adoption, because even they couldn't stand how obnoxious it was.  And then this sweet, loving, gentle man, who has always had a soft spot in his heart for children (and not in a Jerry Sandusky way), brought home this red-head and tried to raise it to be loving and kind, but because her birth parents were the most annoying people on the face of the earth, she had no choice but to be rude, crass, loud, and think everyone always cared about what she was saying so used her outdoor voice everywhere. If you can imagine this, then you are pretty close to this woman at the vet.

I know, I know, I did it too.  At first I pictured Kimmy Gibbler:

and then I realized, that was too nice of an image. 

Just to get on with our story - picture the person you want to punch the most and times it by 10.  

That's her.

So Kimmy (what I'll call her, just so she has a name), is in the office waiting room, telling her dad all about sweet, Lexi and her choice to let Lexi go under the knife, when her dad starts grimacing.  And by grimacing, I don't mean, the 'shut up, I can't take anymore of your voice' (that's the grimacing I was doing). I mean the 'I'm in pain and can't breathe' type.  I'm watching him out of the corner of my eye and getting more and more concerned.  First off, his daughter is oblivious to the fact that her dad has anything happening because she so wrapped up in her own story, looking around to make sure everyone else is listening as well and secondly, this guy's face is red, arm is blue and he's straightening out like a board, about to fall out of his chair.  

Finally she ends her story and looks at her dad for his reaction.  Then she uses her awesome deductive powers and realizes that something is wrong with her dad.  Seriously, this is the direct quote:

"DAD!  Dad, are you listening to me? Dad, is something wrong? (No, shit, Sherlock - what made you come to that conclusion?)  DAD!  I WISH YOU WOULD ANSWER ME!'   

At this point, the man is about to pass out.  He is in so much pain, its radiating across the room and I'm starting to feel like I'm going to have a heart attack.  I'm exchanging glances with the receptionist and we're making a plan.  Gibbler keeps going:

"DAD!  YOU NEED TO STOP.  Just tell me what's wrong." (Really?!  REALLY?!  You want him to just stop the heart attack?! - Sure, daughter...anything for you.  Let me just take a deep breath and you can continue on with your story - cause it was amazing.)

At this point, something needs to happen.  Its been about 3 minutes of her yelling at her dad.  I speak up 'Maybe we should call an ambulance.'  You know I'm not a genius, but the normal reaction to heart attack is to get medical attention.  Oh no...instead of saying, yes, let's do that, Kimmy keeps yelling:


OMG!  Really?!  Did you just usurp your dad's heart attack with 'mom's waiting for the car'?!?!  I was about to slap this lady.  Kimmy, you just went too far.  I reach for my phone and start dialing, when the receptionist speaks up and says she has 9-1-1 on the phone and needed the Gibbs to answer some questions.

So the story comes out: because Kimmy doesn't care about others, especially her elderly dad who came over to drive her and her hooker dog, Lexi to the vet, she allowed ice to build up on her steps.  So her sweet, father - taking Lexi to the car for his obnoxious adopted daughter, fell on the icy steps and landed with a step hitting directly in the middle of his back.  Now all of us at the vet's office (because all attention is on her and her dad) are realizing is he's probably not having a heart attack (Yay!) but we can all be rightfully pissed at this woman for being so negligent that her dad fell on her steps.  Seriously...sprinkle some table salt if you are too cheap to by de-icer.  My first thought - hopefully you have home insurance because this is all coming back on you, Kimmy. 

This news brings us all out of our emergency stupor and they call me back into the exam room with Zoe, who is now panting so hard from trying to pull away from me for the last hour and 30 minutes while sitting in the waiting room.  I don't mind, because I know I'll still hear Kimmy's play-by-play through the closed door.  

Within 5 minutes the EMS arrives, straps in Gibbler's dad and asks him questions.  Kimmy, of course, answers FOR her father, which I'm assuming she's done since she learned the word 'mine' at a year old. I hear the tech ask the gentleman if he's in pain.  He says, 'a little'.  What a guy.  Reminds me of my dad.  (Doesn't want to inconvenience anyone.)    Then, just before I can smile at this thought, Kimmy's voice interrupts my thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. "That's dad-code for yes."  The tech turns to her and says, "excuse me?" I laughed.  He might have been the first person who has dared to question Kimmy.  She goes on without batting an eye.  "Yeah - that's what my dad says when he's in pain, but doesn't want to admit it."  Whatever lady.  I think we all figured that one out without your quality deduction.  

The bell dinged over the door, indicating they were wheeling him out.  I hear him struggle to say, 'Take the jeep and go get mom.'  

It is seriously sad that he had to tell his daughter this. I'd like to take this moment to jot a little note to Ms. Gibbler:

Dear Kimmy,
          Just because you are loud and obnoxious and laugh at your own jokes, doesn't mean people like you.  They put up with you.  And we all talk about you behind your back.  Do yourself a favor and pay attention to your surroundings.  1. If no one else is laughing, your joke isn't funny.  Shut the hell up.  2. If people aren't making eye contact with you, they are looking for an escape from your god-awful stories.  Shut the hell up.  3. Your dog is just like every other dog.  Apologize the the vet the next time you go in there and stop taking up other people's time.  Oh, and shut the hell up.  4.  You're over 35.  Grow up, take care of your parents, sprinkle some salt on your steps and shut the hell up. 



P.S.  Zoe is fine and it only took 30 minutes to have 3 things checked out.  

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