February 15, 2006

Hello Pen Pal. How about another trip through the ghetto life? Yesterday I was feeling a little depressed about returning to the “salt mine”, but today was actually a relatively nice work day. I subbed for a cluster/prep teacher; the teacher’s last period was chess club. Since the chess club had not been formed yet, it was a free period for me. And on top of that, today was a early dismissal. I still stayed after school to finish grading the assignments that I gave the students today. I am one of those people who if I don’t grade an assignment soon, then I will usually procrastinate. Even though I stayed after to grade the assignments, I still was able to leave at 3:15 (that’s early for me).

Since I was out early, I decided to go to the neighborhood hospital I visited back in September 2005 (see previous blog entries). Last week, I received a “final” bill for that visit. Problem?

I never received any other bills or notices.
The bill was for $888.13 dollars.

The first problem. When I went to the hospital, the first thing I did was to ask for the bill then and there. I wanted to pay the bill while I had the money. However, I was told that the bill had not been put into the computer system, and I would be contacted when the bill was made. From that time, I had not hear anything from the hospital. That was about 5 months ago. I’d forgotten all about the hospital visit.

The second problem. I was given an estimated bill for $375.00. How can an estimation be so off.

I go the lobby and wait on the customer line. Why did I think it was a customer line? Above the window was a sign that said “customer line”. Once I arrived at the window, the woman told me that I was at the wrong window; I should go to the 2nd or 3rd floor. I ask which one, and I was told “either one”.

On the second floor, the guy at the computer tries to explain why my bill is correct. “Because I had a lot of tests” including a couple even he did not know what the acronyms meant. I explained that I never received an itemized bill. His response, “oh, we don’t give those. The information on the screen is just for billing purposes only.” But, if I what a copy, he would give me a copy. He went on to explain that the original bill was for the visit alone. I responded that no where on his screen does it show the $375 dollars. His response was that instead of arguing, I should listen the program the city has for individuals that can’t pay (those without insurance). I bring in documents that show proof of income and address, and then I will be charged “what I can afford to pay”. If the “afford to pay” is less than the original “estimated” bill, then I will be happy.

After leaving the hospital, needless to say, I was not in a good mood. And, no sooner am I in the subway station, I am sitting next to another “ghetto” experience waiting for the train. A mother and her daughter are sitting next to me. The mother is eating crabs and throwing the crab shells on the station floor. While this is going on, a plain-clothes police officer stops a man and asks for identification. Since we are a few feet away, we don’t know why the officer is asking for the ID. The mother is shouting to the man, “did he (the officer) apologize”. The daughter tells the mother to “mind your f**king business”. Even before that exchange I can over hear the conversation between mother and daughter. The daughter is using curse (and derogatory) words that would have gotten my teeth knocked out if I uttered those same words within a mile of my mother.

After the man puts his ID away, the mother starts trying to ask him questions, but he has put his headphones back on, so he can’t hear her. The daughter is still admonishing the mother, “why can’t you mind your f**king business”. But, the mother has turned her attention to the plain-clothes police officer, calling out “officer”, “officer” trying to see if the man (who was most liking a cop) would reply. However, he just ignored her.

I arrived at my shoe box; and guess what? My neighbor (and her boyfriend) are having another “ghetto” argument. Loud and profane. I think that in another couple of years, the “F” word will probably replace “the” as the most used word in the English language. Question. Is calling someone a “stupid f**king ho” a term of endearment? I think the boyfriend is going for some kind of record (I think this is the second night [in a row]. Or is it the girlfriend who is trying for a record?

After the first argument round ends, the upstairs neighbor turns on his (or her) stereo full-blast. I really, really can’t see how someone can put on music so loud that the walls and floors are vibrating, and then sit (or stand) in the middle of it.

Now in between the shouting and the wall-shaking booming sounds, I have a headache and my stress pains (that’s what I am calling them) chest pains have returned.

Also, having spent over an hour typing this, it is now too late for me to get on my rowing machine. Oh, I almost forgot, part of my typing time was typing a letter of recommendation for the other neighbor on my floor. Having spoken to him 3 (or maybe 4) times, he asked me yesterday for a letter of recommendation.