Why we should kill sick people

There’s a lot of talk around Washington these days regarding health care reform. But do any of us think that a bunch of bureaucrats lining their pockets with health insurance company campaign funding are really going to make changes necessary that benefit sick people?

I have my doubts.

So, I have an alternative plan–one that may be met with some resistance at first. But I’m sure you’ll realize soon enough that it is the only alternative we have–kill all sick people before their health care costs get out of hand.

I know, to some this may seem drastic–even inhumane–but think about it for a second:

If you look to nature, other animals don’t have doctors and health insurance. The mother dog pushes the runt away and doesn’t feed it.  The mother bird pushes out the weak from the nest so she can feed just the strong. Lions wouldn’t have anything to eat if there weren’t some sick water buffalo for them to take down. Survival of the fittest is nature’s way.

Let’s take the whole emotional aspect out for a second and think about this from a purely logical standpoint:

Caring for sick people takes a lot of money, time and they might not recover in the end. So why perpetuate the inevitable? Why not just euthanize our sick right after a poor diagnosis?

And if someone loses a leg or is paralyzed–why should the healthy people pay for them not to work? If you get hurt on the job or in a car accident, responsible police on the scene could just put down the wounded like they do when a horse breaks it’s leg–one shot to the head. No more money out the window.

Sure, we could have universal health care instead–where every person is treated no matter where they work, how sick they are and how much money they have. And, yeah, we could have the luxury of never having to worry about co-pays, referrals and pre-approvals and all that bureaucratic red tape ever again.

And we could learn from other successful industrialized countries like Canada, France and England who allow people to focus on getting well, rather than how much it’s going to cost them to run that test, to stay an extra day in the hospital or to buy that medication.

We could incentivize doctors to spend the quality time with their patients and convince them to take up healthy habits as opposed to incentivizing doctors to run less tests and spend less time with patients so they can save insurance companies money.

We could, but we won’t.

I mean, this is America damn it. We don’t need to learn anything from anybody–especially Canada and France! Pa-LEEZ. We are surely the far superior country and we will be the pioneers in health care reform, thank you very much.

We just need a little more time to figure it out. Say, another 50 years.

In the meantime, I think we should all get over the whole compassion for the human race thing and just start killing off the sick who are really screwing this whole thing up for everyone else. I mean, we all pay ridiculously high health insurance premiums so insurance companies can get rich, not so sick people can try every treatment known to man to get better.

Write your congressman and feel free to use my idea as your own. Or find out more about universal health care and join the cause. It’s our choice.

Dirty bums, profanity and too tiny bikinis

Ready!

I, like many people, love going to the beach. And my family and I take a trip to the beach very seriously. We have a supply list that has been tweaked based on the age of our daughter and the beach we are going to, but generally, it includes:

There’s an alien inside me

I know I’ll probably never have the satisfaction of really knowing exactly what is wrong with me–some unknown, unnamed auto-immune thingy that will rear its ugly head whenever it damn well pleases.  So, I try not to dwell on it. I know things could be A LOT worse and I don’t want to stir up any trouble. And for the most part, I get by pretending nothing’s wrong with me.

But as luck would have it, an alien has come to live inside me whose mission is to remind me daily that there IS something wrong with me.

Lately Mr. Alien has been torturing me in small annoying ways.

First, he made a couple fingers on each hand feel swollen and the joints painful, but he made it just so that other people can’t see any swelling. No big deal. Just a couple fingers. Who needs those? I don’t really.

Unless of course, I need to type anything on my computer. Oh, and if I need to pick up anything. Or open something. Yes, then it kind of limits me. Oh, and if I need to shake someone’s hand–and they happened to have a firm handshake–then you will see me cringe in agony. But until that moment, I look totally normal.

Good for me.

Now, my alien has moved on. He thinks fingers are boring and would like to torture my left wrist for awhile instead. Again, not too much visible swelling so as not to draw too much attention from others, but bend that sucker the wrong way and OUCH! I’m totally at his mercy.

Again, not much need for one wrist–except for the fact I’m left-handed and pretty much find myself unable to lift anything or do anything that involves using that arm. Did you think that maybe I was just lazy? Mr. Alien thinks that’s real funny.

Mr. Alien also likes to amuse himself by sapping my energy and sending stabbing, electrical pain deep inside my bones. Shooting pain that’s there for a moment–and then gone again. Like maybe I just imagined it, because I’m a sick pain-loving freak. Or at least that’s what Mr. Alien thinks.

How long will Mr. Alien amuse himself with my wrist? I wonder. Maybe a couple more weeks? Maybe forever. Time will tell.

And where will he go next? Feet are always a good option. Or a knee. Limping seems to keep him amused for a while.

Why does he do this to me? I think he likes to remind me that I’m not all better and maybe never will be.

But don’t worry.  I can beat him at this game. I’ve done it before.

I work. I play. And I go on. Despite his insistence on barging into my life, my body.

Are you listening Mr. Alien?

You’re not welcome.

You shouldn’t be here.

I hate you.

You will not defeat me.

I will go on despite you.

How can you be so bad at making me happy?

Nothing irks me more than bad service. Maybe it has something to do with being a waitress early on in my work life that I appreciate the skill and finesse it takes to convince the initially cranky customer to eagerly fork over a fat tip in the end.

Yeah, I was THAT good.

Truth is that it’s not that hard. Just don’t over promise and under deliver.

Not rocket science.

Even if you screw that up I’m willing to let you make it up to me. Wow me. Do it. Go for it.

You got nothin’?

Wow, that’s so lame.

I have a not-so-scientific running list of companies that have really let me down at some point in the area of customer service. Most of the time, the quality of the products they offer have nothing to do with whether I’ll purchase from them again.

Wanna know who they are? I couldn’t possibly list them all, but here are a few at the top of my list these days:

Uno’s: I’ve had bad meals, meals that have taken too long–way too long–and cranky waitresses, but given my background I can definitely sympathize, so I rarely leave less than 20% no matter what happens. But my last meal at Uno’s took the cake for ridiculously bad service; exceeded only by the inept management who not only failed to “wow” me with a heartfelt apology, but he actually managed to piss me off even more. (full disclosure: I used to work here and was fired, but that was over 15 years ago)

Dell: Have to say Dell, you really let me down. I was transfered at least six times before I was told that you could not modify my order that had been placed mere minutes earlier on-line. I know you’re getting a lot of press for being a real pioneer in utilizing social media to propel your customer service efforts, but so far, you haven’t impressed me. Let’s see if you respond to this post and I promise I’ll retract it immediately.

Comcast and The Dish Network: Nothing worse than these two companies who get your one year commitment and then after your one year is up, do absolutely nothing to convince you that you’re with the right company.  What do they do instead? Increase your monthly fees and hope you’re too lazy to switch to a different carrier. Well, I’m not lazy and I’ve moved on. Now you want me back? Too bad.

Target: Do they specifically train their employees to treat you like a criminal when you return something within a week of purchase with a receipt. Are you kidding me?

Walmart: One line, lots of waiting. I’m not willing to wait. Where’s the freakin’ manager in this place.

Toys R Us: How many questions can you cram in while I’m trying to purchase something at the register? No, I don’t want batteries from my non-battery operated item. No, I don’t want to donate to your charity today. No, I don’t want to save 10% on my $10 purchase. No, I don’t want to give you my phone number. No, I don’t want to join your club so you can track my purchase patterns.  How about encouraging your employees to think and act like humans? Ask me one question that makes sense based on my purchases? Oh right, that’s just crazy talk.

I could go on. As you can see, a lot of my picks are big time corporate folk with a lot of resources, but who are just a mess when it comes to the execution part.

Gotta a customer service failure story? Please feel free to add to the black list here….

Why I suck at being a mom

How can you suck so bad, mommy?

In the beginning, I had this parent thing covered. No problem.

Food: check

Clothing: check

Shelter: check

Emotional well-being: che…mamma say wha? (Ok, no more Hannah Montana for me)

This is where I apparently totally suck. My daughter is hands down the most emotional human being I’ve ever met.  I know, she’s a girl and she’s nine, but she will cry if her cereal gets too soggy.

Shameless plea for donations

This week I’m dedicating my blog post to my daughter. Look at that mug!

Not only is she the cutest thing and the best daughter ever, she’s putting all of us adults to shame by riding 10 miles in the PMC Kids Ride on Sunday, June 14th in Concord, MA to raise money for kids with cancer.

Not only is it awesome that she’s a kid helping kids, she’s doing it for the 2nd year in a row!

There’s only a few weeks left before the big ride, so please donate–a $1, $5 or any amount–to show her how awesome you think she is for doing this (It means a lot more when I’m not the one saying it.).

Thanks!

Mother Shaffer

10 marketing tactics that will make me hate you

I’m sure there are slews of marketing-types who can show me all kinds of statistics to illustrate how wrong I am on this. And yes, I’m sure there are some lonely old folks who buy stuff just to talk to someone on the phone and I’m equally sure there are still a whole bunch of dumb idiots who fall for the same old school lame marketing tricks. But do they make it a success?

I don’t think so.

Because for every bad tactic, there is a horde of us who hate you for it. And we’ll never tell YOU what we think. We’ll simply stop buying your product and promptly tell EVERYONE we know not to buy your product. The damage can’t be found in a presentation or a white paper. But it’s real and you should listen up (because I’m always right).

Top ten things I admire about my dog

Something I’ve realized since adopting our dog last year is that dogs of all shapes, sizes and breeds are as individual as people. And they, like us, are all capable of being exceptional–exceptionally strong, exceptionally smart or exceptionally destructive–depending in the circumstances.

The Shaffer dog has proven himself to be exceptional too–wise beyond his years–and has taught me a lot about how silly we humans can be when we hide our true selves or doubt our capabilities.

Here are some things that I admire about my dog:

Yeah, I’m a mother, you got a problem with that?

What do I want for Mother Day? The same thing I wish for every year–a day without my family.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my husband and daughter. They are great. But does Mother’s Day scream a new diamond necklace to me? No–because last I checked, my husband was not my son, so he’s off the hook as far as buying me a gift (no matter what Kay Jewelers and Jane Seymour would like us all to think).

Nope. I just want to leave the house and not come back ALL DAY. And I don’t want to check in either and see what the other half is up to. Nope. I want to just get my car and go do whatever the heck I feel like doin’.

Is that so wrong?

Feelin’ lucky

I know I’m lucky.

But sometimes, I need a reminder.

Like for the past few days my hands have been stiff and painful.

Oops. Looks like I overdid it.