Yesterday I had the enlightening experience of receiving upwards of 30 phone calls from law firms checking on me after my minor accident. How thoughtful. Everyone was so concerned and they all had access to these doctors I could see for free. As this was my first time being rear-ended, I was caught off guard. The first call came at 8:09. If I didn’t normally rise with the sun, I might have realized something was amiss, but 8:00 is practically midday for me, so I picked up the phone and had a nice chat. I didn’t catch the name of the agency and naively thought it was someone from the city. The second call (8:12) I assumed was someone from the same place accidentally calling me again. Eight ignored calls later, I told the overly concerned gentleman that yes I was fine, yes I had the police report number and would you stop calling me? When he assured me he’d take my name off his list but that there may be other agencies calling…it clicked. Oy. Dom and I spent the rest of the day dancing to my ringtone. The last one came at 5:30.
I wanted to pick up the calls and yell, “this is a gross way to make a living!” or at least give the caller an earful of the weird alphabet song that one of Dominic’s toys plays, but I did neither and just kept ignoring the calls. My favorite was the voicemail I got from some doctor. I wish I had saved it for Paul, who listened to the stories of my concerned friends with a mixture of horror and fascination since run-ins with lawyers and lawsuits figure largely in his nightmares. It went something like this:
“Hi Melanie [first of the excessive uses of my first name] I’m Dr. Sleazeball from so-and-so law firm and I do apologize for calling you today. You’ve probably been getting phone calls since 8:00 this morning and I just think that’s so rude of them and I try to be more professional which is why I’m calling at about 2:30 this afternoon. We specialize in injuries from auto accidents. … [yada yada]…And I assure you that if you don’t call me back you won’t hear from me again. I see the other driver has insurance but [Insurance Company] is a cut-rate insurance company and they might pretend to be your friend but then not return your phone calls. We can help you and make sure you and the baby [!!] get the care you need for any injuries and suffering and the stress that comes with an accident. [More yammering. This message was forever.] Please feel free to give me a call at [phone number repeated twice].
Then he called back to leave another voicemail because he thought he got cut off. I didn’t listen to that one.
My goodness. What a depressing world we live in. I haven’t even seen the police report yet. How terrible to assume that I want to sue for what was truly an accident, and for calling under the guise of checking on my health, when I know from experience that the “other driver” receives no phone calls. Also, why does my phone number have to be part of the public record? Where’s the “I got rear-ended and I don’t want to sue anybody” do-not-call list? Sheesh. And hey, if I did want to sue the pants off someone else with my pseudo-injuries, maaaaybe I’m competent enough to utilize The Google and find my own lawyer? Today I got four more calls and several pieces of mail.
In a similar vein, there was another type of creepy insect bugging me yesterday. The bugs are back. Yep. These bugs:
(This is the first thing you get when you google “many-legged bug,” FYI.) After all the rain we’ve had, it was inevitable. I HATE them. First there was one in the bathroom, whence they originate. Paul tried to kill it but lost it behind the sink, and after he left for work and I hit up the bathroom, I found it in the sink. I quickly drowned it and sent its corpse down the drain, hopefully as a warning to its cronies. Then last night there was a fellow chilling on our bedroom wall, waaay up by the ceiling. We attacked it with the bug-killing power-spray bottle (bad idea – guess whose?) and it flew off the wall and we lost it against the wood floor. UGGGHHH. One of the worsts parts about these things is how fast they move. I barely have time to yell and grab for some paper towel before it’s off and running like Usain Bolt in the 100 meter dash. The worst part for me, though, is the surprise factor. It’s 3 a.m. and I stumble into the bathroom after putting Dom back down. I flick on the light and move toward – GAAHH! Panic. I’m now completely awake. I’m not sure what the solution is to this problem. I’ll probably just continue with death threats and bleach down the bathtub drain.