TWEETY TWAT
I am addicted to hydrocodone, thanks to a doctor who prescribed large amounts after surgery.This means that I have to drive clear across town, many miles just to have my elitist doctor sign a prescription, because the controlled substance cannot be prescribed by just any doctor. On this occasion, I had fallen to the Covid19 infection, and called saying I could not go personally.I asked if they could fax the prescription, from their office to the pharmacy, and got an indignant reply telling me, in effect, to mind my own business. Someone,a surrogate, had to go pick it up. I decided to take my neighbor. I say "take" because the office was in a recondite area where some mad architects thought they were building a charming miny city, but managed to make it so confusing it is impossible to find the office without a Geiger counter. So even though I couldn't drive, I went with him to tell him where to turn and park.I told Juan to go in, give my name, and get my prescription. After all the hassle at least this was straightforward. I gave him my card so the secretary could identify who it was for. In a matter of minutes he came out saying "She can't find you on the computer". The secretary refused to give the prescription to their treasured narcotic to just anybody, in spite of the fact that I had called in and arranged it ahead of time. There was no help for it but to get out and hobble in the freezing cold to the office and see what was the matter."I haven't come in because I have the virus," I explained naively, with my mask on,thinking I was dealing with rational people. Pandemonium broke lose. Tweety twat immediately jumped back to the wall, pick up her things and ran back into the nether region to scream at the doctor. Now the issue was not "I couldn't find you on the computer" nor "here is your prescription" but "GET OUT!" It turned out that my card had my middle name, and tweety twat had typed that in, in spite of the fact that only my first and last name are on their records. (I have been going there for at least 6 months). Not understanding that everything is not iron clad, tweety twat refused to hand it over, saying "anyone could come in with a card they just made up", probably the most bizarre observation of the year. I said, "Well I'm not leaving until I get my prescription, to which I have every right,"The doctor came charging in, prescription in hand, saying, "go outside and I will give it to you." I was only a few feet away, so I couldn't understand why he wanted me to leave without the sacred paper. "Just give it to me and I'll leave," I replied. "Call the police" he answered, speaking to tweety twat. She didn't move. "Call them, I'm staying right here" I asserted, and sat down on a low counter. "I need you to get up off the counter," interjected tweety twat immediately. The doctor was obsessed with me going out first, then he would hand it over. He kept saying "Go outside, go outside and don't come back". Finally he gave me the holy grail and I left with my surrogate.
What is behind this bizarre behavior? First of all, bureaucrats can only follow rules. Any untoward event simply throws them- they can't handle it. Bureaucracy, by its nature, sets the person in charge above the client, so that their rules become more and more rigid and more and more dictatorial. What’s more, this stupidity is not just the accidental result of a few corporate buffoons. It is intentionally created. This is much more than taking advantage of the various inbuilt cognitive biases with which behavioral economists are so obsessed. Rather, it involved organizations purposefully creating a kind of collective mindlessness. By turning the health care system into an assembly line where nothing can vary (and life is infinitely variable), the CEOs of the company can rely on greater and greater profits. Doctors and nurses and tweety twats work for the company, not for the patient.
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posted by ANTONIO at 12:32 PM
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