Socks? Really?

Wednesday, June 10, 2009 at 8:34 pm (Writing by Ear)
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I know, I know. Much has been written about the use, overuse, and abuse of cell phones in public places. Who among us hasn’t been privy to long, detailed, loud, one-sided conversations that we really wish we didn’t have to hear?

This evening’s was a doozy, as I heard a woman describe every pair of women’s athletic socks in Marshall’s to someone who, unbelievably, was willing to listen (and apparently even interested) on the other end of the phone.

“Well, they have a 3-pack — 1 pair gray, 1 black, 1 white. Oh, and you know that kind we have that has the band around the top of the sock? Well they have some here where the band wraps all around the sock.

“But I have to talk fast, my phone is going to die.

“Oh, I’ve never seen these before — Puma — with a pink stripe, a blue stripe, or a yellow stripe. And, you know, she likes the thin kind. But these are a little thicker.

“Oh, look at these! These I can’t even describe. And I can’t take a picture because my phone would die. My phone is about to die.”

This went on for at least 10 minutes. And I could hear every word from four aisles away.

“They have these Nikes that are short, but doesn’t she like the higher ones? Well, here’s some Adidas…”

On and on and on.

Now, to be fair, I have been known to spend quite a long time perusing the socks myself, searching for just the right kind. But, so help me God, I’ve never subjected anyone else to my personal (obsessive) quest.

And the kicker — when she finally left the sock aisle, still talking away on the blasted cell phone that wouldn’t die…

“You know, I really hate shopping. I just shouldn’t shop.”

…there wasn’t one pair of socks in her hand. Not pink-striped or blue-striped or yellow- striped. Not gray or black or white. Not thick, thin, or banded. Not low or high.

No socks.

And none for me either. I’m off socks for a while.

Unless, unless, unless…maybe you have a handle on the perfect pair of extra-thick cushioned-sole ankle-high moisture-wicking (stripes optional) beauties for a bargain price? If so, call me!

If you reveal your secrets to the wind,
you should not blame the wind for
revealing them to the trees.
~ Kahlil Gibran

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“Can you just tell me if I’m covered now?”

Thursday, June 4, 2009 at 12:03 pm (Writing by Ear)
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Two different “customer service” reps at Highmark BC/BS really couldn’t answer that question for my husband yesterday — the latest in a months’ long saga whose ending is still to be determined.

A couple months ago, my husband’s employer got word that Highmark was dropping the “small group” health insurance plan the company had been enrolled in for several years. Mike is the only one of the company’s five employees covered, as his colleagues are covered under their spouses’ plans. Coverage would end as of May 31, and the company needed to find an alternative. Because Mike is the only one affected, his employer left it to him to research other plans and present them with some options. Mike has been a Highmark customer for years, and his medical history is clearly documented with them, so we thought this would be a relatively easy process.

How foolish we were.

We quickly learned that almost all of the available options were more expensive for less coverage than he was currently receiving. We’d likely be hit with high deductibles and copays, on top of hefty premiums. His only hope was to enroll in the same “individual HMO” I’ve been enrolled in for 10 years (which I pay for myself, being self-employed).

I learned, much to my surprise and annoyance, that if he was accepted, his monthly premium would be significantly less than mine (like $40 less) because he’s a man (even though he’s a year older and I’m way more health-conscious than he is and have been enrolled for 10 years) — so ladies, another form of discrimination rears its head (supposedly because of that nasty malady called childbirth some of us are prone to — but not me. Oh, and does that mean my premiums will go down once I hit menopause? Yeah, right.).

Unfortunately, his “pre-existing condition” (allergies) caused them to deny his application (even though they know precisely the extent of his treatment, which is in no way extensive). He even had his allergist write a letter of appeal — nada.

I’m skipping over the numerous phone calls it took to even get information on available plans and find out just when he could begin the new enrollment process and what that process would be. Literally — it took several phone calls to several people with varying degrees of knowledge. (And various forays into the Highmark Web site — exceedingly buggy and hard to navigate.) Along the way he discovered that one arm of Highmark still had his old address from 4 years ago (while other arms had our correct address).

Seems Highmark would be sending a “magic letter” two weeks before the end of May when coverage would officially be dropped. Once Mike got the magic letter, he could enroll in another program, BUT NOT BEFORE. Don’t even think about trying to enroll before the magic letter comes.

In the meantime, Mike’s employer gets an invoice for June’s premium under the old program (which is ending May 31st, mind you), which they pay.

May 31st comes and goes and no magic letter appears.

So, Mike calls Highmark for the 437th time yesterday, only to get repeated messages that customer service is down. Great, he can’t talk to anyone. After a couple hours, he finally gets through. One rep tells him: “Yes, your plan has been canceled. But no, I don’t see that any ‘magic letter’ has been sent.”

(So, if you haven’t gotten the letter, are you still without coverage? And if a tree falls in the forest…)

“But my employer got a bill for June and paid it.”

“Oh, they might just get that refunded [because the plan has been cancelled].”

“Can you just tell me if I’m covered right now?” he asked in desperation.

The best answer he could get was, “Well, there is a 90-day grace period after your coverage is dropped.” Although there was also some talk they might deny any claims submitted in that time and he’d have to argue about them…

Oh, and there’s the fact there’s no coordination within Highmark — current coverage questions and new program questions require speaking to different people, who don’t have the same information and apparently don’t even see the same “screens” on current subscribers. And apparently, if a rep doesn’t know something, there’s no way to get “bumped up” to a supervisor who does know something — I’m thinking such people (those who know something) don’t even exist.

So, we’re still waitin’ for the magic letter, as nothing can happen without that. And of course, no one knows why the magic letter hasn’t been sent or when it might be. Or if it WAS sent, and we just didn’t get it. And we still haven’t worked out with Mike’s employer what we might be responsible for paying under a new, more expensive plan. So we’re waiting for that hit too.

How timely that this morning’s online WSJ had this article about health insurance. I sure don’t think nationalizing it is the way to go (God forbid, not more government involvement in our lives), but something’s gotta give. For once, I hope it’s not hard-working consumers.

Bureaucracy is a giant mechanism operated by pygmies.
~ Honore de Balzac

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One for the scrapbook

Tuesday, May 26, 2009 at 11:00 am (Cottage Industry, Writing by Ear)
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I’ve looked at a pile of junk under the breakfast room window in the driveway for, oh, a couple of years. It’s on top of the last unfinished bit of the Great Driveway/ Retaining Wall Project of ’07 (been waiting for the contractor to return and give us a price since last fall), and consists of a giant metal garbage pail and lid that used to be buried in the ground near the garage (now filled with old plumbing parts, the metal hinges and such from our old garage doors, and lengths of old electrical wire), various pipes from our sewer and plumbing projects, and the remnants of some metal shelving that disintegrated in the shed.

I’ve complained about it about 742 times, and whined about just throwing it away. But Mike was adamant: It had to go to the scrap yard. It could be recycled, and we’d get some money for it.

Last year, he got $20 for some wire and other junk he took to the yard.

I laughed.

He probably spent a couple hours collecting and cleaning up the stuff to take, and another hour at the scrap yard. Plus the gas to get there, etc. I’m all for recycling, but the ROI just wasn’t there for me in this case (and that’s when prices for scrap were through the roof — demand from China and all that).

When he returned, he told me what an ordeal it was. Apparently, the scrap yard is run like a prison camp. You better know the drill (which is not intuitive, nor spelled out in any way), or burly men yell at you.

I got to see it firsthand when we finally, finally, finally, with much joy and giddiness on my part, loaded up the truck on Saturday morning to get rid of the pile of junk under the breakfast room window.

The scrap yard is at the end of a typical city residential street — you pass houses perched close together on both sides, then suddenly there’s a massive scrap yard in front of you.

We got into a line of 3 or 4 vehicles in front of us — not moving much because coming the other way is a line of vehicles that have already dropped off scrap, and you take turns stopping at a building that really does look like a lock-up facility. You’re supposed to stop in a particular place, because the road has a scale in it that will weigh your vehicle (the “before” weight). But no one tells you that. If you stop short or go too far, you get yelled at.

When you finally get positioned, a guy yells out to ask your name, then looks out a window at what you have to offer (everyone brings pick-up trucks or trailers). Most people then get out of their truck while it’s weighed — though I haven’t figured out why.

Then the guy yells out some instructions about where to go to deposit the scrap you have, to the tune of “left, right, up the hill, see the guy working.” If you have a mixed load — some iron, some copper, etc., you’ll have to go through the drill a couple of times.

This is where it really gets fascinating.

I didn’t think to bring my camera, but Mike had his phone. We surreptitiously snapped a few photos — afraid of being yelled at (or shot) as industrial spies or something. Mike said innocently, no pun intended, “Just tell them it’s for your scrapbook,” which I laughed delightedly at.

On your left-right-up-the-hill journey, you pass massive piles of scrap — like these cubes (cars?).

scrapcubes

Or these, which I think Mike said were brake something-or-others.

brakes

The coolest thing is that when you “see the guy working,” he turns out to be operating a huge magnet on a crane. You unload your scrap and he picks it up with this giant magnet and dumps it in a pile. It was scary being so close to it, and you wonder that it doesn’t rip the fillings from your teeth or scoop up your truck or the guy’s next to you.

magnet

You see weird abandoned (I think) buildings — was this a trailer or something to do with the railroad that runs alongside?

trailer

The whole thing is very Apocalypse Now.

dozer

Note the houses in the background — quite the scenic view.

panorama

After dropping off your scrap, you proceed back down the hill to the lock-up building, wait in the line for your “after” weigh-in, and then pull over and proceed into the building to get paid.

Mike returned in a few minutes, clutching a receipt and…a $10 bill.

Our 45 minutes or so of time and 2 years of looking at junk yielded us $10, which we promptly blew $7 of buying pastries at the bakery on the way home. (Our neighbor told us she recently took a washer and dryer there and got $7.50.)

Last year — we may have gotten $20 for the same load (200 lbs.), but naturally the economic slowdown has hit everywhere.

So that was our Saturday morning. And you know what — the adventure’s not over. We were 5 minutes from the place when Mike yelled “Oh crap!” (or words to that effect). Seems we forgot to load the aluminum storm door that’s been in the way in the garage since we replaced it last year. Hell — maybe we’ll get $2 for it (I think crap I mean scrap aluminum is $0.35 a pound right now.)

Actually, the fascination factor was worth the hassle (this time) — I’ve never been to such a place and it was pretty cool. And, it’s good for the planet.

Right?

trailer

You learn something every day if you pay attention.
~ Ray LeBlond

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