Chicken Little
Hello World,
Feliz (belated) Cinco de Mayo! Of course, the Mexican holiday commemorating the Battle of the Puebla was on Tuesday, May 5, and a jolly time was had by all, because just like everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day, everyone can also be Mexican on Cinco de Mayo, and get right into the swing of things with the rest of the caballeros, by golly. In this neck of the woods, any excuse for a party is good enough, so there was no hesitation in the local area about jumping on board that South of the Border bandwagon and party like it's 1862. Frankly, that last part surprised me, because I always thought the battle was considerably earlier in the century, as I had mis-read the details of the conflict as the Mexicans throwing off the yoke of Napoleon's army and their French oppressors. Turns out ..... not so much! Any student of history will tell you that Napoleon died in exile in 1821, so obviously the Mexicans could not have sent him packing at this battle in 1862, not by a long shot. It seems that Mexico owed debts of reparations to some European countries after losing some war or other, but Juarez, the president at the time, refused to pay, and it was the French army of Napoleon III that was attempting to collect this debt. Apparently there was an unfortunate series of miscommunications between the two sides, which probably would have been funny under other circumstances, but instead, the Battle of the Puebla broke out more or less by accident, the French were routed, and this is probably why there is no such thing as Napoleon IV, and probably just as well. We have our friends at wikipedia.org to thank for setting the record straight on this, so for all of you out there doing the Mexican Hat Dance and knocking back tequila on Tuesday, at least you would know what you were celebrating. On the other hand, people enjoying themselves for all the wrong reasons is probably why they invented tequila in the first place, and you know I always say, there's no such thing as too much tequila.
Meanwhile, the National Day of Prayer was on Thursday, May 7, and if there's a planet in the solar system that needs prayer as much as this one, I certainly haven't heard of it, and that's putting it mildly. In fact, it wouldn't be overstating the case to say that we could use a National Day of Prayer every month, much less every year, and it would still just be scratching the surface. I'm on board with the idea of trying anything that would stem the tide of the planet going to blazes in a handbasket, and you know I always say, there's no such thing as too much prayer. Another notable date coming up, of course, is Mother's Day on Sunday, which has become such a retail bonanza that, with all of the ads bombarding us from every side, it couldn't possibly sneak past anyone, unless they had been living under a rock for a decade, and on a far distant planet in a completely different solar system besides. Naturally, I'm on board with the idea of recognizing the contributions of all the great maternal figures in our lives, and you know I always say, there's no such thing as too much mothers.
While we're on the subject of too much of a good thing, I stopped in Administration today to pick up time cards and bring them back to Payroll after lunch. It had occurred to me that all of the purchase requisitions we had been getting lately were signed by one of our vice presidents, instead of the COO, who usually signs them unless he's on vacation. It seemed to me that the vice president had been signing requisitions for quite a while, so I decided to ask the COO's secretary if he was away, and not because I needed to know, just out of curiosity. At what I considered this innocuous opening gambit, she launched into a long and involved description of a surgical procedure that he had undergone, with such detail and specifics that I was expecting her to break out wall charts, and carrying on all the way up to his recuperation at a renowned rehabilitation center nearby and his progress in their therapeutic treatment. I was dumbfounded. In fact, when she first said that he had surgery (instead of what I expected her to say, that he was in Paris for 3 weeks, or some such happy activity) I waved her off, and said that I didn't need to know the particulars, since after all, patient confidentiality is such a bugaboo in healthcare these days. But she was determined to tell me more than I ever wanted to know about the whole situation, like I was a medical consultant on the case or something. I don't know where the HIPAA Police were at the time, but I kept looking over my shoulder and expecting them to break down the door and storm in, so they could plug this security breach full of gag orders or something, but they never did. I've been working at the hospital for a long time, and I understand that patient confidentiality is an elusive achievement, under the best of circumstances and with the best intentions. But I certainly don't expect the Executive Secretary to the COO to blabbermouth his entire medical history to anybody who walks in the door, and especially when they have already said that they don't even want to hear about it. Around our house, this is what we call a case of Too Much Information, and you know that one thing I never say is there's no such thing as too much patient confidentiality.
In other work news, our crack (or is that "cracked"?) Assistant Director of Community Relations (doesn't that sound like the kind of sleazy assignations you expect in a seedy motel?) sent us all a press release about our annual Spring Fling at the Extended Care Center, extolling the virtues of its popularity, decorations, flower displays, cuisine and hard-working staff who bring it all together. They say that they've been doing this for years, although this is the first that I'm hearing about it, in all the years that I've worked there, and I was all set to climb on board with this whole idea, until I got to this line in the press release: " ... the delicious menu, featuring Shrimp Scampi and Chicken Franchise ... " Now, I'll be the first to admit that I don't know everything there is to know about food, and especially nowadays, when they come up with such silly names for things like buffalo wings, pulled pork, chicken tenders and popcorn shrimp. But I find it hard to believe that anyone has named a dish Chicken Franchise, even if their name is Franchise, or they own a string of sports teams, because it just wouldn't make any sense. On the other hand, the idea that the person who does the hospital's press releases would leave a typo in there also doesn't make a lot of sense, so I'm afraid that in the sense department, we're kind of between a rock and a hard place, and no good can come of it.
Speaking of no good, I couldn't help but notice the following email that AOL had stashed handily in my spam folder, and with good reason, because our friends at Print Hero assured me that I could "RECEIVE 30% OFF HIGH QUALITY BROSHURE PRINTING - LIMITED TIME OFFER." No doubt! Somehow I don't trust the high quality of their printing on a product that they can't even spell the name of, and I love how they tack on the part about "limited time" as a ploy to entice me to jump on this opportunity before it's too late. I'd hate to be the one to tell them that their invitation actually has the reverse effect of making me want to flee in the opposite direction, so if that wasn't their intention, I'd say the whole advertising campaign needs to go back to the drawing board, and no buts about it. Of course, we can't rule out the possibility that the hospital's Assistant Director of Community Relations is working at Print Hero, so that sending it back to the drawing board could conceivably make it worse, rather than better.
Also getting worse, rather than better, along with higher gasoline prices at the pumps, we are now looking right down both barrels of higher rates for postage stamps, which will go into effect on Monday, making a first class stamp cost 44 cents, believe it or not. It seems to me that it took about 200 years for stamps to increase from a penny to five cents, and only about 40 years to go from there all the way up to where they're almost a half dollar now, and if anyone sees a commensurate increase in the quality of the service, well, I for one would bet my Chicken Franchise against it. Speaking of betting, it came as a big surprise at the recent Kentucky Derby when long-shot Mine That Bird ran away with it by over 6 lengths, resulting in one of the biggest upsets in Derby history, and a huge windfall for anyone who bet on the 50-to-1 underdog, er, horse. We can always count on Bill as our research maven to ferret out the truth of the situation, and he discovered that stakes races come in three grades, and based on the level of competition, they may be Grade One (like the Kentucky Derby and Santa Anita Derby) or Grade Two or Grade Three, as we saw recently in the G3 Sham Stakes with our pal The Pamplemousse at the forefront. Apparently the TV Listings did us no favors by touting the virtues of The Pamplemousse at us, because he fell victim to some injury and was pulled out of the Santa Anita Derby ahead of time, and he never even made it to the Kentucky Derby after all, where he might have given Mine That Bird a run for his money, but now we'll never know. Obviously I can't discuss his injury because of patient confidentiality, but if you want to call our COO's secretary, I'm sure she'll be happy to fill you in on the details. And if you get our Assistant Director of Community Relations instead, you can let her know that I always say, there's no such thing as too much Chicken Franchise.
Elle
Feliz (belated) Cinco de Mayo! Of course, the Mexican holiday commemorating the Battle of the Puebla was on Tuesday, May 5, and a jolly time was had by all, because just like everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day, everyone can also be Mexican on Cinco de Mayo, and get right into the swing of things with the rest of the caballeros, by golly. In this neck of the woods, any excuse for a party is good enough, so there was no hesitation in the local area about jumping on board that South of the Border bandwagon and party like it's 1862. Frankly, that last part surprised me, because I always thought the battle was considerably earlier in the century, as I had mis-read the details of the conflict as the Mexicans throwing off the yoke of Napoleon's army and their French oppressors. Turns out ..... not so much! Any student of history will tell you that Napoleon died in exile in 1821, so obviously the Mexicans could not have sent him packing at this battle in 1862, not by a long shot. It seems that Mexico owed debts of reparations to some European countries after losing some war or other, but Juarez, the president at the time, refused to pay, and it was the French army of Napoleon III that was attempting to collect this debt. Apparently there was an unfortunate series of miscommunications between the two sides, which probably would have been funny under other circumstances, but instead, the Battle of the Puebla broke out more or less by accident, the French were routed, and this is probably why there is no such thing as Napoleon IV, and probably just as well. We have our friends at wikipedia.org to thank for setting the record straight on this, so for all of you out there doing the Mexican Hat Dance and knocking back tequila on Tuesday, at least you would know what you were celebrating. On the other hand, people enjoying themselves for all the wrong reasons is probably why they invented tequila in the first place, and you know I always say, there's no such thing as too much tequila.
Meanwhile, the National Day of Prayer was on Thursday, May 7, and if there's a planet in the solar system that needs prayer as much as this one, I certainly haven't heard of it, and that's putting it mildly. In fact, it wouldn't be overstating the case to say that we could use a National Day of Prayer every month, much less every year, and it would still just be scratching the surface. I'm on board with the idea of trying anything that would stem the tide of the planet going to blazes in a handbasket, and you know I always say, there's no such thing as too much prayer. Another notable date coming up, of course, is Mother's Day on Sunday, which has become such a retail bonanza that, with all of the ads bombarding us from every side, it couldn't possibly sneak past anyone, unless they had been living under a rock for a decade, and on a far distant planet in a completely different solar system besides. Naturally, I'm on board with the idea of recognizing the contributions of all the great maternal figures in our lives, and you know I always say, there's no such thing as too much mothers.
While we're on the subject of too much of a good thing, I stopped in Administration today to pick up time cards and bring them back to Payroll after lunch. It had occurred to me that all of the purchase requisitions we had been getting lately were signed by one of our vice presidents, instead of the COO, who usually signs them unless he's on vacation. It seemed to me that the vice president had been signing requisitions for quite a while, so I decided to ask the COO's secretary if he was away, and not because I needed to know, just out of curiosity. At what I considered this innocuous opening gambit, she launched into a long and involved description of a surgical procedure that he had undergone, with such detail and specifics that I was expecting her to break out wall charts, and carrying on all the way up to his recuperation at a renowned rehabilitation center nearby and his progress in their therapeutic treatment. I was dumbfounded. In fact, when she first said that he had surgery (instead of what I expected her to say, that he was in Paris for 3 weeks, or some such happy activity) I waved her off, and said that I didn't need to know the particulars, since after all, patient confidentiality is such a bugaboo in healthcare these days. But she was determined to tell me more than I ever wanted to know about the whole situation, like I was a medical consultant on the case or something. I don't know where the HIPAA Police were at the time, but I kept looking over my shoulder and expecting them to break down the door and storm in, so they could plug this security breach full of gag orders or something, but they never did. I've been working at the hospital for a long time, and I understand that patient confidentiality is an elusive achievement, under the best of circumstances and with the best intentions. But I certainly don't expect the Executive Secretary to the COO to blabbermouth his entire medical history to anybody who walks in the door, and especially when they have already said that they don't even want to hear about it. Around our house, this is what we call a case of Too Much Information, and you know that one thing I never say is there's no such thing as too much patient confidentiality.
In other work news, our crack (or is that "cracked"?) Assistant Director of Community Relations (doesn't that sound like the kind of sleazy assignations you expect in a seedy motel?) sent us all a press release about our annual Spring Fling at the Extended Care Center, extolling the virtues of its popularity, decorations, flower displays, cuisine and hard-working staff who bring it all together. They say that they've been doing this for years, although this is the first that I'm hearing about it, in all the years that I've worked there, and I was all set to climb on board with this whole idea, until I got to this line in the press release: " ... the delicious menu, featuring Shrimp Scampi and Chicken Franchise ... " Now, I'll be the first to admit that I don't know everything there is to know about food, and especially nowadays, when they come up with such silly names for things like buffalo wings, pulled pork, chicken tenders and popcorn shrimp. But I find it hard to believe that anyone has named a dish Chicken Franchise, even if their name is Franchise, or they own a string of sports teams, because it just wouldn't make any sense. On the other hand, the idea that the person who does the hospital's press releases would leave a typo in there also doesn't make a lot of sense, so I'm afraid that in the sense department, we're kind of between a rock and a hard place, and no good can come of it.
Speaking of no good, I couldn't help but notice the following email that AOL had stashed handily in my spam folder, and with good reason, because our friends at Print Hero assured me that I could "RECEIVE 30% OFF HIGH QUALITY BROSHURE PRINTING - LIMITED TIME OFFER." No doubt! Somehow I don't trust the high quality of their printing on a product that they can't even spell the name of, and I love how they tack on the part about "limited time" as a ploy to entice me to jump on this opportunity before it's too late. I'd hate to be the one to tell them that their invitation actually has the reverse effect of making me want to flee in the opposite direction, so if that wasn't their intention, I'd say the whole advertising campaign needs to go back to the drawing board, and no buts about it. Of course, we can't rule out the possibility that the hospital's Assistant Director of Community Relations is working at Print Hero, so that sending it back to the drawing board could conceivably make it worse, rather than better.
Also getting worse, rather than better, along with higher gasoline prices at the pumps, we are now looking right down both barrels of higher rates for postage stamps, which will go into effect on Monday, making a first class stamp cost 44 cents, believe it or not. It seems to me that it took about 200 years for stamps to increase from a penny to five cents, and only about 40 years to go from there all the way up to where they're almost a half dollar now, and if anyone sees a commensurate increase in the quality of the service, well, I for one would bet my Chicken Franchise against it. Speaking of betting, it came as a big surprise at the recent Kentucky Derby when long-shot Mine That Bird ran away with it by over 6 lengths, resulting in one of the biggest upsets in Derby history, and a huge windfall for anyone who bet on the 50-to-1 underdog, er, horse. We can always count on Bill as our research maven to ferret out the truth of the situation, and he discovered that stakes races come in three grades, and based on the level of competition, they may be Grade One (like the Kentucky Derby and Santa Anita Derby) or Grade Two or Grade Three, as we saw recently in the G3 Sham Stakes with our pal The Pamplemousse at the forefront. Apparently the TV Listings did us no favors by touting the virtues of The Pamplemousse at us, because he fell victim to some injury and was pulled out of the Santa Anita Derby ahead of time, and he never even made it to the Kentucky Derby after all, where he might have given Mine That Bird a run for his money, but now we'll never know. Obviously I can't discuss his injury because of patient confidentiality, but if you want to call our COO's secretary, I'm sure she'll be happy to fill you in on the details. And if you get our Assistant Director of Community Relations instead, you can let her know that I always say, there's no such thing as too much Chicken Franchise.
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 9:07 PM
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