Today, as I was leaving my doctor’s office on Aug. 30, I stopped at the checkout counter to make a three-month appointment. The young female receptionist was ready to assign me a time on October 30. Huh? I told her that she was mistaken. I needed to come in again on November 30, exactly three, not two months from now. She disagreed: “no, no, no.’’ On her fingers, she counted August, September, and October; that’s obviously three months. She again asked me when on October 30 was the best time to schedule my appointment. I responded that it was inaccurate to include all of August in the three-month interval because it was already the end of August. The receptionist wasn’t fazed a bit at my calculation. She insisted, again counting on her fingers, that I needed to come in again by October 30, not November 30.
I couldn’t believe that the receptionist was so dense. I emphatically told her (omitting any futile discussion of how to tally months) to make me an appointment either during the last week of November or by the first week of December. The receptionist looked at me as if I were nuts, but she reluctantly complied. I go in on November 4, one day after the Presidential election.
This numerically challenged young lady needs to take a crash course in how to count, and I in the future should not try to argue with anyone who incorrigibly swears that he or she is right when the facts dictate otherwise. I bet I know whom the receptionist will vote for on Nov. 3.