The wonders of bureaucracy*, and a good workout

I'd gotten tired of schlepping up to Westchester for mammograms, so I have made an appointment with a place on the West Side of Manhattan. Unsurprisingly, they want me to bring my old mammogram films, for comparison. This will require me to schlep to Yonkers one last time (it's three buses in each direction; all covered by my unlimited Metrocard, but still, that takes time, especially if the connections are bad). I need to do this tomorrow. When I called at the end of June, it was "sure, just tell us how far back you need, and give us a couple of days' notice."

So, I called them Tuesday. The person who answered took my name and other identifying information, and said I would need to talk to Terry to finish sorting this out, and transferred me. To someone's voicemail. I left a detailed message on Tuesday, asking her to call me back. Thursday morning, I tried again and got the voicemail again. So, I called back and explained that to the person who answered, who said she would check to see if Terry was in—and then put me through to voice mail again.

This morning, I called, and asked the person who answered what their hours were for this purpose. She told me I needed to call ahead. So, I explained the saga of the multiple messages left. I had lucked out and gotten the token competent person allowed near the telephones, who explained that the reason I hadn't gotten a call back was that Terry had been out all week. In what universe does "I'll check to see if she's there" mean "I will put you through to the voicemail of someone who is out this week"? Fortunately, said Competent Person gave me her name, told me when she will be at the office tomorrow, got my information, and promised to call me back. An hour or so later, I checked my phone and found a message: she has pulled my films and they will be there for me to get tomorrow morning.

I finished the page proofs I was working on about 2:30 this afternoon, and went in to my boss's office to tell her this, and that while I'd checked with the supervising editor for math before I left, she hadn't had anything for me right then. (She will on Monday.) My boss told me I might as well go. This meant I got to work out when there were very few people at the gym.

( The usual gym numbers )

As a side note, I would like to know whether the IRT division of the NY subway system talks to the IND. Both the trains that come to my neighborhood are being replaced by shuttle buses this weekend. The information on the 1 explains that the buses will connect to the A at 207th Street. They do not mention that the A is only running as far as 168th Street, so the connection is actually to another bus. (The shuttle bus is often considerably slower than the subway would be, though usually faster than walking.)




*Discordian calendar notwithstanding, I am coming to think that Bureaucracy is a cleverly arranged subset of the season of Confusion.

The wonders of bureaucracy*, and a good workout

I'd gotten tired of schlepping up to Westchester for mammograms, so I have made an appointment with a place on the West Side of Manhattan. Unsurprisingly, they want me to bring my old mammogram films, for comparison. This will require me to schlep to Yonkers one last time (it's three buses in each direction; all covered by my unlimited Metrocard, but still, that takes time, especially if the connections are bad). I need to do this tomorrow. When I called at the end of June, it was "sure, just tell us how far back you need, and give us a couple of days' notice."

So, I called them Tuesday. The person who answered took my name and other identifying information, and said I would need to talk to Terry to finish sorting this out, and transferred me. To someone's voicemail. I left a detailed message on Tuesday, asking her to call me back. Thursday morning, I tried again and got the voicemail again. So, I called back and explained that to the person who answered, who said she would check to see if Terry was in—and then put me through to voice mail again.

This morning, I called, and asked the person who answered what their hours were for this purpose. She told me I needed to call ahead. So, I explained the saga of the multiple messages left. I had lucked out and gotten the token competent person allowed near the telephones, who explained that the reason I hadn't gotten a call back was that Terry had been out all week. In what universe does "I'll check to see if she's there" mean "I will put you through to the voicemail of someone who is out this week"? Fortunately, said Competent Person gave me her name, told me when she will be at the office tomorrow, got my information, and promised to call me back. An hour or so later, I checked my phone and found a message: she has pulled my films and they will be there for me to get tomorrow morning.

I finished the page proofs I was working on about 2:30 this afternoon, and went in to my boss's office to tell her this, and that while I'd checked with the supervising editor for math before I left, she hadn't had anything for me right then. (She will on Monday.) My boss told me I might as well go. This meant I got to work out when there were very few people at the gym.

( The usual gym numbers )

As a side note, I would like to know whether the IRT division of the NY subway system talks to the IND. Both the trains that come to my neighborhood are being replaced by shuttle buses this weekend. The information on the 1 explains that the buses will connect to the A at 207th Street. They do not mention that the A is only running as far as 168th Street, so the connection is actually to another bus. (The shuttle bus is often considerably slower than the subway would be, though usually faster than walking.)

*Discordian calendar notwithstanding, I am coming to think that Bureaucracy is a cleverly arranged subset of the season of Confusion.

and here we go again

I think I may have overdone it at the gym: from a vague soreness in one knee pre-workout, I now have them both hurting. A few hours' gap, and post hoc is not propter hoc, but either way, not good. (Specifically, wondering if I did too many leg presses and/or with too much weight, especially in the first set.)