Rants from the Crib

An Ob/Gyn gone mad

Archive for the month “March, 2013”

Mount Rushmore And A Bogus Return To Reality

Well, I had a very dichotomous day the day before yesterday.  The doc I’m working for gave me the day off until 3 PM so I could leave Rapid City and go see Mount Rushmore and some of the other many attractions in the area.  He recommended I see the Crazy Horse memorial also.  I happily packed up my camera and Traveling Guck and put on some thermal underwear and went off to explore the beautiful Black Hills.

Mount Rushmore is about 25 minutes out from Rapid City and the view is very pretty.  I stopped first to take some pictures of a mountain pass.

Rapid City SD 009

Mountain Pass 1

Mountain Pass 2

Mountain Pass 2

Then I drove on beautiful windy mountain roads, up and down until I got to Mount Rushmore.  To get close to the monument you had to walk through a hall of flags.

Flags at Mount Rushmoret

Flags at Mount Rushmoret

Under the flags, and there they were, those four big heads chopped out of the mountain!

Hall of Flags at Mount Rushmore

Hall of Flags at Mount Rushmore

And here were just the heads:

The Presidential Heads of Mount Rushmore

The Presidential Heads of Mount Rushmore

They were a little bit more time worn than I remember as a kid.  Those gray stains were definitely not there.  We know not even mountains last forever.

A nice lady took a picture of me with Guck so I could send it to my daughter.

Me and Guck at Mount Rushmore

Me and Guck at Mount Rushmore

Here is a profile view as I left Mount Rushmore and headed to the Crazy Horse memorial, a gargantuan carving, that when finished, will be bigger than Mount Rushmore.

Profile of George Washington

Profile of George Washington

Here is a beautiful lake Guck and I encountered on the way to Crazy Horse:

Beautiful Lake on the Way to Crazy Horse Monument

Beautiful Lake on the Way to Crazy Horse Monument

Guck of course had to have his picture taken.

Guck at the Mountain Lake

Guck at the Mountain Lake

Here is a side view of the Crazy Horse Monument in profile.  I thought it didn’t look like they’d gotten very much done, but Mom said they’ve made a ton of progress since she was last there.

Crazy Horse in Progress

Crazy Horse in Progress

Closer view of Crazy Horse’s profile:

Crazy Horse Profile

Crazy Horse Profile

The white sculpture behind Guck and me is what the Crazy Horse Monument is supposed to look like when it is finished.  You can see the full sized work in progress in the background.  Of course Guck insisted on this photo opportunity.

Two Crazy Horses, Me and the Guck

Two Crazy Horses, Me and the Guck

Guck found another photo opportunity in the Crazy Horse museum.  I find he makes a lovely addition to the sculpture.

Guck in Sculpture

Guck in Sculpture

On the way home, we saw a beautiful overpass.  I never thought I’d say an overpass was beautiful, but there’s a first time for everything.

Black Hills Overpass

Black Hills Overpass

I returned from my photography and sight-seeing trip feeling very relaxed and peaceful.  Alas, at 3:00 when the nice doctor handed the call duty back to me, I was promptly slammed with patients and had to spend the night in the damn hospital, which was kind of a downer to my otherwise lovely day.  But the trip was a great one, and maybe next time I’ll get to have my husband and daughter in tow.

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Orientation Fun

 

Rapid City Regional Hospital Credit: Flickr Creative Commons – Emilio

 

I started a new locums travel doc adventure in Rapid City, South Dakota yesterday.  I was to report to the hospital for my “orientation”, a word to those in the know as “soul shattering meaningless tedium”.  My schedule was as follows:

0645 – 0701:  Lean up against the wall opposite the Medical Staff Office where I was supposed to report at 0700.  Watched 3 (count them, 3) employees come up, unlock the office and ignore me totally, despite the fact that I was obviously the new doctor who was getting processed (much like the beaks and assholes that go into luncheon meat) and that I was holding up a wall in the hall out of sheer sleepiness and boredom.  I did manage to get a picture of Traveling Guck sitting under the Med Staff Office sign, post it on Facebook, and email it to my daughter.

0701:  They actually stick their heads out and open the door for me.  Apparently they take the 0700 start time very seriously.

0701 – 0707:  Introduction to the 3 dickheads who left me standing in the hall.

0707 – 0720:  Taken to get a photo badge processed.  When I asked them if they needed ID verifying my identity, they said no.  Apparently they don’t mind issuing medical staff badges to random strangers.  I was of course lined up against a blue wall without opportunity to inspect my hair, and allowed one deer-in-the-headlights shot with no Mulligan.  I was told to go do something else; the badge was processing.

0720 – 0735:  Taken to IT to get computer passwords and immediately change them.  Since they wouldn’t tell me the criteria for the passwords (I swear, they didn’t know whether I needed capitals, lower case, special characters or numbers), I had several do-overs until I found a password that the freaking computer would accept.

0735 – 0740:  Back to pick up ugly badge. Future spoiler:  they set it up wrong and it didn’t open any of the doors that I needed it to.

0740 – 0815:  The ultimate in mind boggling tedium.  This is the same standardized spiel you are given at every single hospital that you work in:  it is dictated by OSHA and JCAHO and a few other acronyms.  Therefore I have heard this 3 times in the past 3 months.  It involves:  Hospital Mission – a retch-inducing phrase or two about Service, Teaching, Health Promotion and Other Grandiose Bullshit, Fire Procedures – seriously, who doesn’t know about RACE and PASS?, Infection Control – a list of all the nasty bugs floating around in the hospital and the special antibiotics used to treat them, if you are lucky and they can be treated at all  (Flesh-eating bacteria included), HIPAA – letters stand for “you’d better not give anyone any information about any of your patients and it we find out you did, we will fine you, fire you and set fire to you”, Code of Conduct – they now must produce a written list about how not to be an asshole (official name:  disruptive physician) because people apparently don’t have the sense not to be assholes and must be given a specific list of asshole things not to do,  Peer Review – we will be watching you, new doctor, and auditing your charts because you are probably incompetent, and Software Use and Access – the passwords never work.

0815 – 0830:  Ridiculously long-winded talk from the head pharmacist, who has a way overdeveloped sense of importance, and who gave me 8 (yes, 8) business cards of pharmacists who I would probably not encounter were I to work at the hospital for 10 years.

0830 – 0930:  Computer training.  This seems to follow a basic pattern – taken to a dark room where a pasty antisocial individual is hunkered down,  sat in front of a computer and given a mouse to click on various things without explanation.  This is all punctuated by, “oh, I don’t know why that’s not working – it usually works”, from the IT person who seems to have no idea about real-life applications of the material they are teaching.  An hour of, “Oh, let’s back up, oh, no, no, no, we didn’t want to go there, OK, try clicking on that” where really, I would have done just as well playing with the damn program myself.

0930 – 1000:  “Do we have anything else for her to do?  I’m not sure, do we?  Did she see the pharmacist?  Oh, I guess we should try to show you the hospital.”  Remember that I must see Medical Records for instructions for record dictation.  Meet with sourpuss from Medical Records.  Receive incomprehensible instructions and dictation cards.

1000:  Phone call from the doctor who is already turning call over to you, explaining that you already have a labor patient to take care of, despite the fact that you haven’t even seen Labor and Delivery yet.

1000 – 1020:  Taken at a gallop past the OR, doctor’s lounge, ER, radiology, and finally, Labor and Delivery where you are kindly intercepted by the chief MD of the Ob/Gyn department, who gives you an actually civivlized and useful tour of the area.  You are introduced to at least 25 people, none of whose names you will remember.

1020 – 1030:  Shown where the locker rooms, scrubs and break rooms are.  Both the MD call rooms are occupied, so no place to sit there.  Insructed to throw backpack on the floor in the nurse’s lounge.

1030 – 1040:  Locate and change your scrubs to their scrubs, because the ones you have on (although perfectly functional) do not belong to this hospital and are thus assumed to harbor awful bacteria.

1040 – 1500:  Sit around on Labor and Delivery because the patient in labor is having her third baby and it should come fast.  It does not come fast.  Chat with nurses (who are too busy to chat) and a Family Practice resident who is waiting to do a delivery and who is hoping you will let him do yours.  You don’t want to let him do your delivery, because you don’t like how anyone does deliveries except for the way you do them, but you have to be a good sport, because that was how you learned back in the day, and people have to learn, don’t they?

1500 – 1530;  Actual delivery of the baby.  You let the resident do it.  He does OK except for the suturing part, which is so slow and fumbling and incompetent that you want to kill yourself.  You would have finished 20 minutes ago.  The nurse is uncertain whether the stitching job is adequate.  It is adequate and you politely tell her to bugger off.

1530 – 1600:  Attempt to take care of strange paperwork and computer work, none of which functions the way you were shown by the creepy IT person in the basement.  Swear under breath.  Repeat.

1600 – 1615:  Use Google Maps (which totally rocks, by the way, and it’s free) to find your way out to Bumfuck where the Ob/Gyn clinic is located.

1615 – 1700:  Meet the doc you are working for and her office manager husband, who regale you with how awful and unfair the politics at the hospital are, and how they hope they will not make you suffer too much.  Yippee.

1700-1715:  Find way back from Bumfuck to the hotel using Google Maps, which by now has used up the battery on your phone.  Pray that you get to the hotel before the phone dies and you are stranded forever.

1715:  Collapse on the bed with the stuffed duck and eat an Atkins bar.  Plan TV watching.  Sulk because tomorrow the patient that delivered wants her tubes tied, a procedure you hate doing and you will have to get up early to do it.

The Doctor Is The Patient

CT scanner, from aestheticdoctorsingapore

I became a patient instead of a doctor last night.  The day before yesterday, I flew home from North Dakota for a few days at home before going on a trip to South Dakota.  Yesterday, I experienced sudden left calf pain for no reason at all.  I hadn’t had a cramp, nor had I injured the leg in any way.  Sudden unexplained calf pain can be a sign of a DVT, or a deep venous thrombosis, which is quite dangerous as that blood clot can be thrown into the lung, which in severe cases can result in instant death.  Travelers are at high risk for a DVT because sitting for long periods of time can impede blood return from the legs to the heart, and with the blood pooling in dependent areas, it can set up as a clot.  I am also over forty years old and am on estrogen in the form of birth control, which increases my risk for DVT even more.

I considered the pain for a while, and I could think of no plausible reason for it to be there.  And knowing I had another plane trip in two days, it would seem very foolhardy to hop back on a plane and risk throwing a clot at 30,000 feet up, where there is no medical care available.  So I made the decision to take myself to the ER, as they would need to perform a number of tests, most of which are not available at an outpatient clinic.

I arrived at the ER, in my own hospital where I have worked for ten years, and signed in.  I was recognized immediately and was signed in.  Membership does have its privileges.  They instantly brought me back to triage, before an entire waiting crowd of people, had my vitals done and they whisked me directly to a bed.

They immediately drew bloodwork pertinent to the diagnosis of a DVT.  Everyone who came into the room recognized me and chatted with me.  The lab tech came in and said she’d drawn bloodwork a million times with my name on the order slip, but had never drawn blood on me.  She confessed she was a little intimidated.  I told her not to be; I have amazingly beautiful veins and I told her she would have no trouble accessing one.  Indeed, I was an easy stick.  While we were chatting, she told me she was pregnant, and that her doctor was my former partner, who is a great person, so I told her I was happy for her.

Next the ER doctor came in, and he is one of my friends, which was great.  He’s also brilliant, by any standards, which is also great.  He’s also qute eccentric, which I enjoy.  He was always calling me when I was on call, and he always starts his explanation with “I’ve got this girl here…”.  Doesn’t matter if the girl is twenty or eighty.  So he came in and chatted with me about what the problem was, and he checked out my leg and checked pulses and all that good stuff.  Then he ordered leg dopplers and headed back out.

The doppler tech came in, and I know her too, so we started chatting about all the crazy things going on in the hospital, and about how everyone is so scared for their jobs, because they are slowly shutting the hospital down.  She scanned the leg, and everything turned out OK.  Several years ago, I had contacted the CEO regarding equipment that they needed for the vascular lab and weren’t getting.  I asked if she ever got the equipment.  She smiled and said she got it the next day.  It was good to see her.

The RN came in to see if I needed anything.  We chatted too, about the job situation.  She’s a former EMT and firefighter, and she has maintained her certification in both so she may have more options than some.  She adjusted the thermostat for me and got me tucked in to wait on lab results.

The doctor came back in the room.  My clotting labs had come back abnormal.  He wondered if I had already thrown a clot from my leg into my lung.  If it was a bad one, I would have died already, so I would likely be OK.  But the abnormal lab meant I needed a chest CT to make sure there was no clot in my lungs, because if there was, I was going to have to take blood thinning medication to get it to go away and prevent future ones from happening.  I knew the CT would be done with contrast.  I’ve had a CT before, so I knew how weird it feels when they push that stuff into your vein.  You get a massive hot flush from your head to your toes, and a cough reflex when it hits your lungs.  It’s not a lot of fun.

That means I needed an IV.  The RN came back into the room to start it.  She too confessed that it was a bit intimidating to start an IV on a doctor.  I told her number one, I am not at all intimidating, and number two, I have beautiful veins and she would have no trouble getting one.  As advertised, she nailed it on the first try.  I didn’t even feel it much.  She told me I would have to keep my arm straight as it was at the bend of my elbow.

They came to pick me up for my CT.  I was wheeled down the hall, and the CT tech informed me that this contrast would be twice and much, and pushed twice as fast as the contrast I had had for my previous abdominal CT.  Great.  He also told me that the chest CT was the equivalent of 300 chest x-rays.  Double great.  We laid me out on the table and he did one pass without the contrast dye.  Then he rolled me back in and BAM I felt that stuff hit my body, a mile a minute, head to toe.  I was in the breath holding phase of the scan and the urge to cough when the stuff hit my lungs was almost impossible to control.  But I made it through, and it wasn’t even as bad as I had remained.  It gave me a really weird afterglow feeling in my privates for a minute or two though.  Then I was wheeled back to my room to wait for results.

The results took about forty five minutes.  I laid on the bed and kept my left leg straight because it hurt, and the right arm straight because there was an IV in it.  Then the doctor came back into the room and told me there was no clot in the lung.  Thank God!  Now I could travel to my next assignment and not have to be stuck in the hospital.  There were some other weird findings on my chest film though.  There were some areas that looked like I might have had TB, which as far as I know I’ve never had, as I am tested for it every year since I started med school.  Another possibility was histoplasmosis, which is common in the South and many people carry it asymptomatically in their lungs.  It only reactivates if you are somehow immunosuppressed.  Hopefully that will not happen.  Also, my blood sugar was a little high, and my blood pressure was a lot high, which kind of worried me.  Now I will have to go see my primary care doctor and have all these things worked up.

I didn’t get home until after midnight.  Hubby and daughter were passed out in the bed.  I was very relieved I didn’t have a blood clot, as I leave for South Dakota for work tomorrow.  My husband wondered in the morning why I didn’t wake him to give him the news when I got home.  I reminded him that he has insomnia and if he was asleep, I wanted him to stay that way.  So when I get back, I’ll be following up with my regular doctor to explain all these adjunctive findings that we came up with while ruling out the DVT.

Things A Southerner Has Learned About Northern Winters

1.  It is very difficult to push the key’s unlock button for the car with thick gloves on.

2.  Ice is very slippery.  It strikes fear even into seasoned Northern winterers.  They describe a universal knuckle whitening clutch on the steering wheel when driving on fresh ice.

3.  Ice somehow can gradually disappear, even when temperatures remain below freezing.  I don’t know if it sublimates, if they put out chemicals that change the melting temperature of ice, or if the heat of the tires on blacktop eventually melt it.  Where does it go?

4.  As I may have mentioned before, soft drinks left in the trunk of the car explode, and make diet Coke-sicles that hang off the lid of the trunk.

5.  Weathermen are frequently wrong.

6.  A blizzard is almost more about the wind than about the snow.

7.  Scraping ice off your windshield is like scraping glass off of more glass.

8.  Your car windows freeze closed and you can’t open them.

9.  There are many different kinds of snow.

10. The wind will blow the hoods and hats right off your head.

11. The dry weather makes the blankets on your bed crackle with blue sparks.

12. They say the dry weather causes an increase in paper cuts.  I believe it.  I have the paper cuts to prove it.

13. You have to go through a careful checklist before leaving any building.  You have to have things that you need to access organized in your outerwear so you don’t have to fumble around looking for things with clumsy gloves in sub-zero temperatures.

14. If you dress correctly, you really don’t feel that cold.  Especially after scraping ice.

Losing The War On Our Minds

I have never watched so much TV in my life.  I think this is truly safe to say.  I’ve been trapped alone in a hotel room in North Dakota for two weeks now.  Yes, I have spent some time seeing patients in clinic, but I have been booked pretty lightly.  All my nights are free.  And I find it safe to say, in this town of 18,000, in the dead of winter, there is nothing else to do.  Well, there is a Walmart.  And some bars.  But I don’t drink anymore, although I am strongly considering it.

A little background on the TV thing.  You see, I grew up without one.  Yes, I was a freak.  I was a freak for a lot of reasons, mainly because I was brilliant, and because my parents were Wally and June Cleaver in a world where everyone else’s parents partied and screwed around and, well, watched TV.  I’m not saying I had a bad childhood.  In fact, the opposite is true.  I had a wonderful childhood.  I have no early traumas to draw on when I do my writing.  Trauma for me was coming in second in the spelling bee (which never happened, by the way).

But we had no TV.  My parents did not buy a television until I was grown and out of the house.  They thought TV was a waste of time, and money.  And although I hated them for it, in hindsight, they were definitely right.  I spent some of my childhood snatching moments of TV at my friends’ houses.  When I spent the night at my best friend’s house, we spent all Saturday morning watching cartoons.  I went to friends’ houses after school and we glued ourselves to The Brady Bunch and Gilligan’s Island.  I got every precious moment of TV I could get.

On occasion, my parents would rent a TV for big events.  When the Olympics came on, for example, I would keep that TV on every minute I possibly could.  The folks would pull me away after an hour or so, but I got to watch M*A*S*H, and I got to watch Nadia Comanici win her gold.  But I felt left out all through junior high, and high school, because the kids were talking about shows, and I had never seen any of them.  In junior high, I went to a class party that was held just to find out Who Shot JR.  I watched that show, and I had no idea what was going on.

Funny thing, though.  After I left home, TV lost all importance in my life.  We never had one at the apartment when I was in college.  I was so busy out meeting people, and partying, and studying, that it just didn’t seem relevant.  Once I was in medical school, I certainly didn’t have a TV.  I didn’t have the time, and I couldn’t afford it anyway.  Same thing for residency.

There was one brief period in my life when I did watch TV.  When I took my first job out of residency, I rented an apartment which included cable in the price of rent.   I felt it would be foolish to waste the cable, so I bought a TV.  Since it was my first job as a real doctor, I bought a BIG TV.  I still didn’t watch it much.  When I watched, the TV stayed on Comedy Central.  It cheered me up when I was feeling down, or when I was staying up late making jewelry.  I loved old episodes of Saturday Night Live, and I loved the Daily Show.  But my absolute favorite was What’s My Line Anyway.  The original one and the one with Drew Carey.  I watched that show for hours and hours.  It made me laugh hysterically.  And by this time in my life, that took a lot.

Once I got married, we never got cable again.  We love to watch movies, and we test shows that we hear are good on Netflix.  We’ve enjoyed Burn Notice, Bones, Buffy, Angel, Heroes, In Plain Sight, White Collar, Castle, and most recently and delightfully, Big Bang Theory.  We watch kid’s movies with our daughter.  I don’t think she even realizes that we don’t even watch “real” TV.  We are commercial free.

But this brings us back to where I am now:  a hotel in North Dakota with a winter storm on the way.  I have spent the weekend holed up in here, except for a brief period yesterday when the weather was so beautiful I had to go out.  There was nowhere to go, really.  I went to Walmart, and the little mall.  Not much going on there.  But I could go out without my coat.

Otherwise, I’ve been a shut-in.  Watching regular TV.  And thank goodness for movies.  And thank goodness for Law & Order.  You can find that on anywhere, any time.  But these ads.  Oh my God!  They’re giving me nightmares.  The asinine Sonic guys.  The Geico pig.  McDonalds Fishy McBites with the rapping wall fish.  That Geico thing where the African basketball player runs around slapping everything out of the air?  Trojan vibrators being sold on prime time TV?  Seriously?  Really?  When the hell did that happen?

And the shows.  Holy cow.  The world has gone to hell in a handbasket, for sure.  Duck Dynasty?  The Virgin Bachelor?  Honey Boo-Boo?  Almost Naked Animals?  Amish Mafia?  Swamp Pawn?  Teen Mom 2?  These names sound like they should be satires of real shows.  No wonder my patients are so darn dim.  It’s not their fault.  Their brains are being poisoned.  It’s not even insidious at this point.  It’s overt.  War has been declared on the minds of the world, and we are just letting it happen.  And I think I know why.  I can’t turn this thing off, because I’m so damn bored.  I think we’re all giving up.  Because we’re just damn bored.

Standardized, Bastardized, Smothered, Covered And Chunked

I spent all day filling out a standardized application online for a state medical licensure.  All day.  It went something like this:

1.  Name:

1a.  Ha!  Not that name, you sucker!  Now list all the other names you use:  the one you robbed that bank with a couple years ago, your ex-husband’s last name that you didn’t take…  By the way, why DIDN’T you take his name, you deviant?  Attach extra paper to explain here.

2  Address:

2a.  Is that really your address?  Why do you live in such a shithole?  Attach extra paper to explain here.

3.  Where did you go to medical school?

3a. Because we know you don’t remember,, we want the actual day of the week you started there, the street address, since you haven’t been there in over 20 years and haven’t the foggiest, and oh, we want their fax number too.  Even though faxes weren’t even invented when you went there.

4.  Where did you do your internship?  Your residency?  Never mind that they are usually both done at the same institution; we want you to fill out all the same information twice.

4a. What years did you go there?  If you were ever absent for more than three days during your entire residency, attach extra sheet to explain why you are so self centered that you thought you deserved a 2 week trip to Vail.  Because seriously, you should have been working.  Explain yourself.

5.  List everywhere you’ve worked since medical school.  We want exact dates, addresses, contact names (even though they bulldozed one of the hospitals you worked at – we want to be able to contact them at the Home Depot they built over it), email addresses, and, oh, if there is more than a month gap between any work engagement, attach extra sheet to explain here.  Vacation is not a real reason.  What were you really up to, what sinister antisocial behaviors were you engaged in that kept you from work?

5a.  Seriously, why weren’t you working that September in 1990?  You know we don’t believe you.  Enter your lame excuse and have it notarized.  In triplicate.  Send one copy to our office, one copy to your recruiter’s office, and one to the local paper so we can all laugh at you.  Send it Fedex Overnight.  On your bill.

6.  Enter all licensing exams you’ve ever taken, the exact dates, the exact scores, and whether or not you cried when you left the testing room.  If you ever failed anything, explain yourself.  Attach extra sheets if necessary, but don’t make the ink all runny with your sniveling.  Entries with sniveling runny ink will be returned, and you will have no opportunity to redeem yourself.

7.  Have you ever:  Pooped twice in one day?  Been laughed at for being too fat?  Been late paying a phone bill?  Forgotten to brush your teeth?  Made an illegal u-turn?  Withdrawn your hospital priveleges (even though it was just because you moved and there wasn’t a damn thing sinister about it)?  Been sued by some asshole?  Hung up on a telemarketer?  Missed church?  If any yes answers, tough noogies, attach extra sheet for each question and waste the rest of your day explaining yourself.  And don’t think we won’t check up on you.

8.  List all states in which you have ever had a medical license.  If you forget any, you are screwed, discredited, and we will hound you until you die.  Now what were those exact dates again?  Better not be a day off, or we will know you are lying.

9.  Attach triplicate copies of:  your state medical license, your DEA number, your residency certificate, your board certification and your med school diploma.  Never mind that they are indelibly framed and sitting in your garage and you are somewhere in North Dakota.  There’s no excuse for not having them copied.

10. Attach notarized originals of your birth certificate and your passport.  We need them for our files.  We will not return them.  What?  That’s your problem.  Go out to the hospital you were born at 45 years ago and get them to give you a new copy.  We’re keeping these.

11. Have you ever been diagnosed with sadness?  Feelings of hopelessness?  Inadequacy?  Stress?  Depressionbipolardisordermentalillnessobsessivecompulsivedisorderdissociativeidentitydisordermaniaanxiety?  If so, attach notarized letter from your doctor and explain yourself, you piece of shit.  Why would we let you work for us if you’re damaged?  And don’t lie.  We have friends at your insurance office.

12.  Have you ever commited a felony?  No?  Feeling smug?  What about a misdemeanor then?  Parking tickets?  Jaywalking?  ATTACH EXTRA SHEETS AND EXPLAIN WHY YOU DESERVE TO LIVE.

13. What is your address in the state you’re applying for?  We know you don’t live there yet.  We don’t care.  Fill in the address, or the app will be stuck on this page for the rest of the day.  And you’d better not be making stuff up.  We know where you don’t live.

14. OH, SORRY.  YOU LET THE APP TIME OUT WHILE GROVELING ON THE FLOOR FOR YOUR MISSING BIRTH CERTIFICATE.  Go back to Go.  Do not collect $200.  In fact, you owe us $200, one for each copy of the application.  And you must fill everything out again, because our IT people suck so bad at building cheap websites, they don’t let you save as you go.

15.  Welcome back.  What was your name again?  I’m sorry.  That password is incorrect.  You should have changed it the last time you logged in.

16.  I’m sorry.  The number you’ve reached has been disconnected.  Actually, it was never connected.  Sucker.

 

 

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