My husband is a very smart and intelligent man who plans for the future. So, since we’ve been married, he’s mentioned a couple hundred times that we “really should” get me on his life insurance policy as the beneficiary. A couple hundred times later, he finally set up an appointment, which we missed and rescheduled. While at the appointment, the guy talks my husband into getting me my own policy, for which he has to ask me approximately eight thousand health related questions. Once he’s finally gotten through my health history since my first day here on earth, he asks me my height and weight. Then, the shit hit the fan. It went a little something like this:
“Height and weight?”
“Uh, 5′ 2″ and um…maybe 186?”
“Oh. Uh, I need to check on that…”
So he grabs a little booklet out of his desk and begins looking through the charts in the back.
“I’m sorry, you’re off my chart. We’ll have to have a nurse come out to meet with you, go through all of these questions again, and take your height and weight.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry. I guess I could have saved you some time by telling you my height and weight first, huh?”
“Yeah. Sometimes I’m not as observant as I should be.”
…yeah, I was beyond miffed. I was miffed off.
At this point, I’m frozen with a mixture of rage and horror at the words that just came out of that old wizened guy’s mouth. I try to tell myself that maybe he meant it as a compliment and not as a flat out, extremely rude put down. Maybe he meant that I didn’t look morbidly obese, even though I clearly was, according to his charts. I was on the verge of saying, “I’m not sure whether or not to be offended by that,” when my husband started asking some other questions about the policy.
When we walked out of the office, about twenty extremely tense minutes later, I turned to my husband and just started bawling. He, of course, was completely unaware of the catastrophically damaging comments that the man had thrown so viciously in my face and it was a few minutes before he understood why his crazy, crazy wife was crying on a public street and sobbing incoherently about “That jackass!” and “I’ll show him observant!”. Once he was able to decode my crazy, he asked me if I wanted him to go back and make the guy apologize. Now, my husband is an extremely caring guy, but personal confrontations with almost complete strangers are just not his forte, so I declined his oh-so-heroic offer in order to preserve his own comfort and sanity.
So, the nurse came out to our house the following week. I was angry that she had to be there and started out my meeting with her with a very bad attitude. Once I realized that she was not some horrible minion of the evil health insurance man and was actually a very nice person, I lost my bad attitude and began to embrace the situation as an opportunity to learn more about the actual state of my health. So she asked me the five billion questions again and took my height and weight, and you know what? I am 5′ 3 1/4″ and weigh 179 lbs.
So, take that sucka’.