I just finished my biennial optometrist visit and the clever
doc sold me another new pair of specs. He said the new spectacles should fix my
problems in seeing close-up stuff and those pesky things at intermediate
distances as well as enhancing my longer distant vision - just about
everything, I suppose.
“You’ll be 20/30 again,” he said proudly, as if he had just
developed a plan for world peace, ”if you buy the new glasses I recommend.”
Then he sent me to his girlfriend, the one who helps you
decide about new frames and fits them to you. After that, she tells you about
your bill. Before I retired and my employer paid for vision care, I used to get
new frames each time I got new glasses. In those days, new frames were covered
by my insurance, providing I chose frames designed during World War II. After
my retirement and the loss of company paid insurance, I quit getting new frames
at each optometrist visit and continued wearing my old WW II glasses, except
for the few dozen times that I broke or lost my glasses.
The blonde girlfriend talked to me about new frames. She
said the progressive lenses the doctor specified required a larger glass
surface, hence a new pair of frames would be needed to accommodate the new
lenses.
“But,” she said, “let’s first talk about some of the
optional features you might enjoy.” For a small fee, she explained, I could get
the new transition lenses that darken in the sun.
“Everybody is wearing them now,” she said, hinting that if I
was anybody, I would surely require the transition lens regardless of cost. About
then I noticed that she was wearing a low-neckline blouse that emphasized her bosom.
She went on to tell me about this nifty coating they could put on the glasses
that reduced glare. I shook my head yes. It was an ample bosom, by the way.
Then she explained about the scratch-resistant coating – yes, and the lighter-weight
plastic - definitely yes, I said. Finally, she came to the frames.
”It would be a shame to house these latest technology lenses
into an old fashioned frame,” she said. “I think a person like you would want
the latest design frames.”
By now, I was staring intently and I had forgotten all about
WW II. “Why don’t you choose the latest style for me?” I offered, trying to
look at her face.
She picked out a pair of eyeglass frames in no time flat. I
assumed she had been saving them just for me. They reminded me of the glasses
Bono wears. I told her they were wonderful and I admired her taste. She began
adding up my bill. I was a little concerned when the tally for my bill
stretched to a second page. The Bono style frames were about the same price as
my first car. The total for the examination and new eyeglasses with all the
optional features was only slightly less than my first house. She handed over
the bill. Of course, I acted like the price didn’t matter as I stuffed the bill
in my pocket and finally managed to look the blonde in the face.
I should be getting my new specs sometime soon and I won’t
be going to the optometrist’s office for a long time, I hope not until he gets
a new girlfriend. By the way, I’ll be posting a lot of selfies on Facebook
soon.
