Recently I sought to make an appointment for a annual checkup with my Primary Care Physician, Dr. Kropotkin. I punched in the number and spoke to the Physician's Assistant, a woman named Tiffany.
"Hello," I said, "I'd like to make an appointment for my annual physical. What dates does Dr. Kropotkin have available?"
"Oh, of course," she replied. "What's your birth date?”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
"Don't you want to know my name first?"
"No, I want to know your birth date first."
"But shouldn't my name be first and my birth date secondary?"
"No, sir. You name is totally insignificant and hardly important. We can figure that out from your all important and all-consuming birthdate!"
(Now there's a theme song to a TV show from the 1960's called "Secret Agent" starring an iconic actor named Patrick McGoohan which featured the lyrics "They Given You a Number and Taken Away Your Name."
In the show the lyric was applied to a British Secret Agent named John Drake.
It was not applied to a Jewish guy from the Philly suburbs attempting to make an appointment with Dr. Kropotkin.)
Resuming the dialogue with Tiffany, I said "So you say you can figure out my name from my birth date, eh?"
"Yes, sir, that's correct."
"What if I lie?”
Then your appointment will go to a 25-year-old named Ashley.”
“…. well, then, it’s September 12 … September 12 .... Nineteen ...”
"Spit it out, sir!"
"All right, god damnit, it's September 12, 19 fucking 50!"
“Oh .... well, in that case ... why don’t we wait a bit and see if the appointment turns out to be necessary.”
"Let's just take a wild stab, and assume maybe it will be necessary!"
And so far - so far - it has been.
I don’t know about next year.
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