.
.
“Good morning, Dennis,” said Chuck. “good to see you. I’m in a better mood than yesterday, but I’m still mad. After you left yesterday I was going to pick up a few veggies, go for my blood test, like I do every month. They didn’t have the regular people in the clinic. The woman behind the desk said that my requisition was expired by one day. I asked her, ‘What does that mean?’ She said, ‘That means you’ll have to come back with a current requisition.’ I said, ‘Surely you have all my information on file. I’m in here every month. Perhaps you could phone my doctor.’ She said, ‘We don’t do that. You’ll have to come back.’ I was so mad. I stormed out of there and came back downtown. Even in that scorching heat, I had my cap out until 4:00. When I got home I phoned my doctor and left a message about what I needed. It’s stupid, I have to get these tests every month for the rest of my life, you’d think they’d give me a permanent requisition. It’s because of my Doctor, every time he signs a requisition he charges twenty bucks. If he sends a fax, he charges five bucks.
“They make everything too complicated now. I tried to call about my telephone, but first I had to hear all this stuff about television packages and internet plans. I don’t even own a computer. Finally, they give me a list of choices. What I wanted to call about wasn’t on the list. All they need is a simple answering machine. I’d tell them my problem, and someone who deals with that problem could phone me back.
‘It’s as complicated as getting welfare. I was in a car accident, my arm was nearly torn from my shoulder. I was in one of those casts that stick out to the side. I was in that for six months. My disability benefits ran out, so I called the welfare office. They told me to come to the office and fill out a bunch of forms. This was on a Monday. They said there’d be no problem, a check would be ready for me the next day. I went in the next day, no check. They said for sure the next day. I went in again, no check. This went on until Friday when somebody told me that my claim had been rejected. I didn’t have a cent. I talked to my wife and we decided to go to the priest. We went to his house. I rang the doorbell. I could see the housekeeper inside, but she wouldn’t answer the door. I started pounding with my fist. That brought the priest out. I told him our problem. He said, “I can understand your situation and I can give you some help. Here’s sixty dollars for groceries.” Sixty dollars worth of groceries would last us about six weeks. Then he said, “You and your wife probably like to see movies, so here’s another twenty. Carl, you probably enjoy watching hockey, so here’s another twenty. You’d probably like a few beers with your friends to talk about the game, so here’s another twenty.” I was flabbergasted. You can bet that I took the money, I couldn’t refuse. I didn’t go to the bar though. I didn’t want to pay their prices. First thing I did, was go to the beer store and pick up a twenty-four. My wife took care of the rest.
“Talking about bars, got me thinking about a waiter I used to know. He was kind of quiet, didn’t say much. One day, in the middle of his shift, he went to the back, threw his apron down and walked out. He was half way across the bridge, when he jumped over the rail. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the water wasn’t very deep, but it was very rocky. If he’d jumped a dozen feet back he would have died on the rocks; a dozen feet the other way and the current would have taken him. He couldn’t swim. He ended up with a broken arm and he injured his back. I didn’t see him for a long time, until I went into this small bar at the edge of town. There he was. He turned all of his money over to his wife, but she allowed him to keep the pennies. We’d save up our pennies to make sure he could put some money away for himself. He’d take a trip every winter to Florida. He’d stay drunk and would hire a different hooker every night. During the rest of the year he didn’t drink.
“I got a joke for you. There was this German guy, his last name was Sexhauer. He had a heavy accent and the receptionist thought he said, ‘When is your sex hour?’ She said, ‘Sex hour, we don’t even get a coffee break.’ I think I may have forgotten part of that joke, but that’s the best I can do.”
.
Streetsister 