Opened the Window

What would possess someone to spell my (first) name wrong?  I don't understand.

Sometimes, I wish I had known or seen certain people as kids on the playground.  Sometimes, I feel like I already have.

Moi: My friend says that all the cool kids in her division pronounce it ark instead of A-H-R-Q [the way we do].

Whitecastle: I bet our division gets more ark money than hers.

Well, then. 

Yesterday was the day of my annual flu shot, what should have easily been one of the happiest days of the year (just behind Thanksgiving, Free Cone Day, and any day at the beach).  There's something about getting a shot for free, having everything be so easy, and all these health professionals warmly greeting me, that makes me feel like I've accomplished something and served the Common Good.  It's as if, by virtue of getting the shot, I'm acing that physical I haven't had in years.  But all this was ruined yesterday by a flustered nurse, who had to confirm three times that I should not get a TB skin test.  (I was also there for a TB screening, but I test positive every time so there's no need for a test.  Let me cough on you sometimes, you'll see.)  Her worst crime, however, was not giving me a band aid.  I know.  A band aid is half the reason why I get a flu shot in the first place.  The second half is the freebies.  The feel good stuff are just traces compared to band aids and chocolates.  Without a band aid, I bled all over my shirt.  Which helped with the street cred, but did not look professional.  ("Is that from food?" "No, Young Bo', I did not rub my mouth on my shoulders.")  Which of course meant that I had to google stain removal tips at work.  Which decreased my productivity.  And probably cost a few thousand lives.  I hope you're happy, Stingy Nurse.