My Foot Hurts

And apparently my health care provider could care less. I pay Kaiser Permanente the total sum of $290 every month for "insurance" for my wife and I. In addition to this I get dinged $15.00 "copay" (who is the co in copay?). I have had appointments with Kaiser less than once per year.

Here is a picture of my foot, and yes that nasty bump on the ball of my foot hurts. Squash is out, basketball is out, hiking is out, walking is not fun.

I called my primary care physician and asked for a referral to a podiatrist. But no... The doctor had to see me before he could make a referral. After a few days I got in to see him and as expected he scraped at it a little with his scalpel and advised me to soak and abrade to reduce the bump. I asked if I should use a cheese grater but he suggested a pumice stone. Of course this didn't work. The bump now feels huge, swollen, and explosively painful.

I called my primary care physician to request the inevitable referral to the podiatrist. I was informed that the doctor was on vacation for the next week. I insisted on a referral, vacation be damned. This was Thursday one week ago. On Tuesday I hadn't heard back. I called, and was at last given the phone number for the Podiatry Department. I called and was informed that the earliest possible appointment was on August 11. Jesus H F_cking Christ. I asked if their strategy was simply to wait for the problem to cure itself or if they were actually hoping that a major infection would lead to my demise and eliminate their need to deal with me.

I emphasized to the shaken receptionist that this was not personal, except for me of course. She persisted in declaring that the appoinment 6 weeks out was the best I could hope for. I advised that this was unacceptable and that this was not the last they would hear from me.

My next call was to the customer service wing of Kaiser. I explained the situation and stated that I wanted to file a formal complaint. This seems to be the only way to get a referral appointment with this organization. The next day, today, I received a call from Podiatry (surprise!). They advised that by some undefined alchemy that they now had an appointment available on July 13th. I graciously accepted this and pointed out that now I only had to walk on my disfigured supurating necrotic foot for a further two weeks. I suspect that if I could get some care tomorrow that this would probably be a minor procedure. In two weeks they may have to remove the entire foot! Well, tomorrow it's back to customer service to file formal complaint number two.

Republicans, I understand are worried that a single payer health care system would result in the rationing of care. Of course health care is npw being rationed by ability to pay, and apparently the will and capacity to bend the bureaucracy to your needs. I suspect the more timid among us just wait until they finally get to see a doctor, get better, or succumb.

Well fair reader, I know that you are trembling with excitement about the outcome of my medical adventure. Stay tuned, maybe I will be able to get live video next time.

Hotel Murano

The Lady Wife and I are currently in Tacoma, WA for our daughter Marie's graduation from University of Puget Sound. We are staying in Hotel Murano in downtown Tacoma. It was recommended to us by the good folks at UPS. So let's rip on this hotel a little...

I thought at first blush that the establishment must be Japanese by design or ownership. What with the name, Murano, which means valley in Japanese, the minimalist design, and hip urban architecture it all seemed to point in this direction. Would it were so, but the hotel is actually named after an island in the lagoon of Venice Italy.

Before I begin the deconstruction let me point out some real positives. Our room on the 21st floor has a truly spectacular view of Mt. Rainier. The lobby bar pours a hella good vodka martini. However the real experience of Hotel Murano begins at arrival...

We pulled up to the Hotel in the new family truckster looking forward to the valet parking advertised in the promo lit and website. I was informed that the parking was actually $18.00 for 24 hours. Ah what the hell, go ahead. I opened the back door of the car and began unloading luggage. The "bellman" asked me if I would like help with the luggage and then wandered off to let me schlep it to the front desk on my own. This is where I began to suspect that the institution lacked the service that would have prevailed if the Gods of customer service were Buddhist.

After checking in, loaded down with the aforementioned luggage we entered the elevator for the trip up. The elevator (apparently because they could do it and it gives the image of "exclusivity") required swiping of the room key card to activate the floor buttons. Most guests seemed to be fumbling this badly. We made it to 21, I stepped out heading for our room, and found that the Lady Wife had been a tad slow off the mark and was now on a return trip to the lobby. Not knowing what floor we were on it took some trial and error for her to finally arrive at our room. Ha! Ha!
In addition to the post industrial chic architecture and design I must also point out that the Hotel Murano is also a theme hotel. The theme in this case is Art. Each floor is devoted to a different and apparently prestigious artist. We were lucky enough to land on the floor devoted to one Bruno Romanelli. Bruno's works lent a wonderful aire of depression, darkness and death to the 21st floor. Our room has a lovely etching of what is apparently a corpse framed and prominently displayed.

On arising in the morning I showered and put on the oversize terry cloth robe which was hanging in the bathroom. The tag on the hanger informed me: USE ME ALL YOU WANT... AND IF YOU CANT LIVE WITHOUT ME, I AM A CHEAP DATE. $105.00

Another ever so trendy tag was the knob hanger that at most hotel's reads OCCUPIED. Not good enough for the Murano, theirs reads" TIED UP. Ha! Ha!

Apparently to make amends for the fact that I spent a fruitless 45 minutes last night attempting to log on to their "wireless network" I was supplied with a SPIRITUAL MENU. So where is L. Ron Hubbard on the menu? Can I switch religions daily? What about the secular humanists (atheists) among us? If religion isn't what you need please note the PILLOW MENU.

OK, It's 10:00pm and we have just returned from our celebratory graduation dinner. I am lying on the bed in the $105.00 Murano terry bathrobe. I hear some noise at the door. The Lady Wife looks up from the computer and says "Dean! there's someone coming in the door!". I leap into action and find a gentleman with his luggage and a card key who apparently was given the same room that we are already checked into. He, embarrassed, retreated to the elevator. I called the front desk and advised them that either he or I or both should have our rooms comped. The customer service juggernaut of the Hotel Murano lurches on!

At the end of the day I was not charged for parking, Internet service or any of the other threatened charges. Perhaps the management felt bad about trying to give us a roommate. Lastly, I confess we did not try the restaurant. We were lucky to find a less pretentious eatery just up the street. The surprises that Tacoma has in store are beyond imagination...

Bus Your Table!

Last week my lovely wife Jenny and I stopped in at a new hip post industrial style coffee shop in the Clinton Street neighborhood of SE Portland. The coffee was good, no excellent. The pastry was satisfactory. The employees in keeping with SE Portland hip culture, were poorly groomed, nose ringed, and seemed to have a slightly arrogant edge. Outside of handing the coffee and pastry to you across the counter there was no service.

Upon departing Jenny pointed out a sign asking all patrons to bus their own tables. Call me "old school" if you like, but if I wanted to bus my own table I would simply dine at home. I am puzzled by the fact that while the staff provides zero service, they still had a tip jar on the counter. For what effort do they deserve a tip?

Perhaps my negative reaction to this ever more common standard of customer service is exacerbated by the years I spent in Japan where even in the most humble of coffee shops, the customer is an "honored guest" and is treated as such. The shop in question in this post "little t american baker" is no better or worse than the flood of such cafes popping up around town. Nevertheless I can't help but lament the utter loss of customer service that seems to typify this generation.

Having achieved the advanced age of 60 I have made the following decision: I will herefor cease and desist bussing of all tables except when my wife requests me to (at home only). I will tip generously for service, not at all for the lack thereof.

Citzens! Stand up for your rights! Enjoy your meal and depart leaving your dishes on the table!