How we got here:
The deal I made with the devil isn’t in the note preview, but long story short you can blame
for this.Look.
I’ve tried to be clever and stylistic about this story and every single time I end up banging my head against a linguistic wall.
So we’re just gonna do this à la water cooler gossip at the office, because that’s easy enough, there won’t be much editing and it fits the scene.
Which is an OB/GYN private practice.
Right down the street from Hulk Hogan’s Hobbit mansion.
I have to name drop at least once or it isn’t proper water cooler gossip, Clearwater is where all the weird bougie Scientology retreats are - the Flag building where Cruise and Travolta learned their superpowers, or the Sea Org for L. Ron Hubbard’s private navy - if you spend enough time downtown you’re bound to bump into someone (in)famous, so there’s really no excuse.
what?
...oh. the Hobbit mansion?
Yes, it was definitely a Hobbit mansion. You’ll need a street view to understand this, 75% of the estate is hidden from the road so all you see is this weird villa type structure that looks like it’s built into a small hill.
See?
Hobbit mansion.
Knowing Linda Bollea if I googled this I’m assuming I would find it’s some kind of faux parisian architecture but there’s been enough rabbit holes, we don’t need to revisit The French Hen.
A few of us bumped into the Hulkster over the years on our way to the fourth floor, he appeared every six months or so to visit the chiropractor on the floor below us. Donna once dropped a coffee on his foot in the elevator and she said he didn’t even flinch.
Must have been the bad back.
Or the spinelessness.
But this story isn’t about Hulk Hogan, this story is about Donna, the surgery coordinator for the very busy practice we worked at. Most of our doctors had a wait list six to twelve months long for preventative care, and our obstetrics patients had an on call provider running across the street to the hospital at least twice a day. Five doctors, four midwives, two ultrasound techs, one nurse practitioner, and a partridge in a pear tree.
2011 was a banner year for sex.
Hook up culture was at its peak, Rihanna topped the charts with S&M in April, Fifty Shades of Grey hit the bestseller list in June, and vajazzling was trending after the internet finally caught on to Jennifer Love Hewitt’s admission to the dubious body jewelry phenomenon the previous year in her biography.
It’s understandable, the internet moved slower fifteen years ago and to be honest I didn’t even realize she wrote a book until I had to prepare notes for this ill-advised dive into medical office shenanigans.
Donna loved pranks.
Before we continue, I suppose we’ll need a definition of “vajazzling” for the blessedly ignorant.
Vajazzling is a type of body jewelry usually applied after professional hair removal. Tiny crystals are adhered to the pubic mound using self adhesive or spirit gum. The artform originated with exotic dancers and received renewed attention from empowered white collar women everywhere, presumably until they discovered what tiny embedded rocks can do to your follicles.
Swarovski is not formulated for sensitive skin.
So,
It had probably been six months since Donna’s last prank, which was a little more successful than she anticipated. We didn’t know the office manager had a crippling fear of rats but it became common knowledge after we found or fearless leader attempting to ride her desk chair out of her office without touching the floor, shrieking in inhuman tones about the huge motherfucker in her file cabinet. Donna snatched the rubber decoy from the drawer then squeaked it at her with all the self-preservation of a gator sniffing shih tzu. Our office manager, usually one to take these moments in stride, did not speak to Donna for two weeks.
On the morning in question it was obvious from the moment she walked through the door that she was scheming, the woman wore her emotions like a billboard and she had the most shit eating grin on her face.
The office manager took one look at her and closed her door until lunch.
Donna chirped her good mornings, gave the kitchen her daily updates - Bentley, the domesticated baby skunk she just adopted, had gained half a pound, and her husband’s insurance was trying to deny his mammogram again. Stage 3 survivor “but you know the insurance companies don’t believe in male breast cancer yet, dumb dicks. Oh and Marj would you cover me after lunch, I have my physical with Dr Blume today.”
This having been the third time Donna reminded Marj that she needed coverage.
Subtle.
Marj and I exchanged looks and that’s the last I thought about it until three hours later when a startled cry shook the halls in high pitched tones only the Three Stooges could come close to emulating,
“WOOOOP! WHAT! WHAT THE CHRIST IN HELL—”
By the time I made it to the exam rooms a door had crashed open, Dr Blume hurling herself out into the hallway and landing half on her ass against the opposite wall, heaving cackles so loud patients were peeking out of their own rooms to see what the commotion was about.
The office manager committed second degree assault getting me out of her way and keelhauled the half-keeled over gynecologist towards her office.
Donna grinned and straightened her scrubs as she walked out of the exam room.
“I’m gonna have to reschedule. I didn’t expect Dr Blume to lose her shit over a little visual aid.”
The decision was made to reschedule her next patient for good measure after the good doctor bellowed around her frantic handler,
“SHE PUT DIRECTIONAL ARROWS ON HER LANDING STRIP!”
- art by Frances Goodman (not the actual landing strip, you’ll have to use your imagination)
Im glad you told this. I love stories of people doing serious work that humanizes them. Esc medical,education, and first responders. It can be tough work, back breaking, but in the end, fully human. And 😂 hilarious.
Incredible 🤣. I think I'd die laughing if I was surprised by something like that! It's too bad the practice lost popularity. We could have had full frescos by now!