Originally posted January 6th, 2009
I probably complained about this last year, but I’ll bitch about it again this year. I hate the beginning of the year for one simple reason: insurance. Every single year, starting in November, we tell people “If you get any new insurance cards, please bring them to us.” And every year we get maybe 3 or 4 people who bring in their cards, while about half of the other people don’t bring them in. Because of this, we spend half our day having the following conversation:
Us: Your insurance that we’ve used to bill your meds out is no longer working, did you make any changes to your plan or receive any new cards?”
Them: Yes!
Us: Do you have the new card?
Them: You mean you need that?
These are the times I really wish I could respond to their inane questions with what I’m really thinking, such as “We are not trained in mind reading.” These people seem to think that we’re psychic. If they change their plan, we should automatically know this, and therefore they should be absolved of all responsibility of keeping their information up to date. We should somehow manage to know why their copays went up $5, or $2, or $0.10, but heaven forbid you suggest that they read their policy information or call their providers. They look at us like we’ve got three heads when we even suggest that they do some of the legwork of getting a new rx when we’ve already faxed the prescribing doctor 3 times. If the majority of these people had their way, they would have no personal responsibilities at all, up to and including wiping their own asses. And some days we wonder how the hell they even manage to do that without both hands, a flashlight, and a road map.
We’re expecting an ice storm tomorrow. My excitement is almost tangible. Oh, wait, that’s not excitement, that’s just me sending off near-constant wishes that I lived someplace that has only one season: WARM.
