I know some very nice Money Town residents, but it is so much more fun to share with you some of the bizarre ones. There is no shortage of strange people around here. I guess that is fortunate for me because it provides an ongoing supply of writing material.
About a week ago The Torturer was delayed one morning. He finally arrived grumbling about a "high maintenance" patient. Of course, being the consummate professional, he did not say if the patient was male or female nor did he disclose any other information. A few days later I found myself out in the clinic area of PT next to a woman who I knew instantly must be Ms. High Maintenance.
She was dressed in skin tight workout clothes for her physical therapy appointment. Her appointment was for a sore shoulder (meaning she had no need for workout clothes at all). She was sporting a wedding ring that was a minimum of a 6 carat, emerald cut diamond surrounded by a zillion other diamonds. She is about 25 and married to a gentlemen no less than 55. Her hair was perfectly highlighted and styled (for physical therapy?) and everything about her was perfectly groomed … nails, skin, makeup, etc. She is attractive, but the minute you see her you think it must cost thousands each month for all that maintenance.
She saw me from across the room and chose to come over and sit at the table next to me. She was friendly and said hello and introduced herself. She did not ask my name or even give me the opportunity to provide it. She clearly had come over just so that there would be someone nearby to listen to her.
She instantly began talking. And talking. And talking more … all about herself, of course. She lives, needless to say, in Money Town. Her shoulder hurts "a little" when she bends her arm really far back, "like this". I have become very empathetic toward people with injuries since my car accident. However, do you know how hard it is to appear sympathetic to someone who is whining about how it hurts "a little" when they contort into pretzel positions? She kept playing with her hair as she talked, and looking at her ring, and she never seemed to stop to take a breath.
Her "biggest concern" with her sore shoulder was how it might affect her "ass". No, I am not kidding. I heard every detail of her ass, her efforts to keep her ass in shape, and her concern that being at PT two days a week (for 45 minutes each time) might have a negative impact on her ass. She actually started doing "ass flexes" as she talked to me.
Maybe that is my problem? My five surgeries? That's what gave me a fat ass! Brilliant!
As she prattled on my mind began to wander. I thought about her husband and wondered if having her on his arm as a trophy wife is enough to make up for having to listen to her? I was going out of my mind and I was only with her for 20 minutes. I can't imagine anyone living with her. How do men put up with their trophy wives? Why have them in the first place? (I know what you're thinking, but how could anyone who is singularly focused on themselves be any good in bed?) Her narcissim topped anything I've ever encountered. Honestly, for the 20 minutes she talked, I don't think I ever said a single word.
After she left The Torturer returned from working with another patient. I said, "So I guess I just met your high maintenance patient?" He nodded, and said, "Yeah, she's here for her shoulder but all she does is talk about her ass the entire time she is here." Oh really? She talks about it with him too? What a surprise!