Having been informed of his mistake, the offender admitted to having had doubts, especially upon noticing I was wearing Yoga pants, something he “doubted support staff would dare do, even on a weekend”. He babbled trivialities. I contemplated how creepy/odd it was that he knew what I was wearing were “Yoga” pants, and that he had looked close enough, in such a dimly lit corridor, to ascertain that to be the case.

Some time later, while diligently reviewing research for regional environmental initiatives, there was a knock on my office door. It was the I know you are wearing Yoga pants guy. Appearing relatively innocuous, he presented me with my favorite Café con leche, then quickly departed. The apparent innocence of the act notwithstanding, an inauspicious ambiance entered with him, and lingered momentarily upon his exit.

As Poe is my witness, this man had brought me my signature drink from a small Cuban cafe close to my residence, a cafe I patronize with distinct regularity. This cafe is a significant distance from our office — by beverage acquiring standards anyway. It’s unlikely that someone without previous stalking tenancies toward me would be likely to know I favored the refreshment or the establishment. It bothered me that this stranger (and believe me, I’ve never noticed this khaki clad cross between Chad Lowe and Tucker Carlson before), would bring me a drink I loved, from a place I frequent; far worse, that he did this on a Saturday in a predominantly empty office building. This was far too Play Misty For Me, for me.

My work day was shot. I couldn’t concentrate. I had to get out of the building. Coincidentally, this man left at the same time.

I don’t know why I’m telling you this. This irrational paranoia is likely the result of my preadolescence foray into Lovecraft, King, Jackson and Bradbury. Some had warned against taking that path prematurely, but as they say “Time is the school in which we learn, time is the fire in which we burn“[1].

On a related but somewhat lighter note:

During polite dinner conversation Every Breath You Take is often designated the number one stalker song of all time. We all have our secret favorites though. In contention for me is Run For Your Life, an old Beatles tune sent to me repeatedly by a loose canon of a boyfriend after we went our separate ways.

In the end it’s about connotations. Anyone who recalls the late, great, Dennis Hopper’s character in Blue Velvet, and the “candy colored clown” scene, with Dean Stockwell as the theatrically inclined, “In Dreams” crooning Ben (replete with vile predilections), will have a strong stalker association when hearing Roy Orbison’s In Dreams.

What’s your favorite stalker song?

[1] Delmore Shwartz, Calmly We Walk Through This April’s Day

Wonderland or Not.

It’s not only high risk pools. The increase in rates ( example Maryland where the rates increased 40 percent last year for many plans, after having increased almost twenty percent the year before), has caused employers who have plans to go to a high deductible plan ( In some cases well over 4 grand a year for a family), or drop their plans altogether. That 4 grand comes easier for some than for others. It often prevents those who can’t afford the deductibles from seeing a doctor for things that maybe they should be seeing a doctor for. So, here we are right back where we started, with those at the middle part of the spectrum getting stuck. They have insurance that cost what is to them a fortune, but it is worthless except in the case of a hospitalization or other catastrophic illness.

Then there are silly political moves. In my state a business gets a tax break or credit of 7 or 8 grand for businesses who offer insurance for the first time, but no break for business who have consistently offered it, despite the fact the astronomical increase in their rates over the last two years. As a result there are as many businesses dropping their group plans as there are initiating a plan. Talk about getting getting nowhere fast.

The market based regulatory model doesn’t work for health insurance, at least not to the benefit of those purchasing it. In a free market there is supposed to be satisfaction on both sides. Tit for tat. You pay “this” and get “that”. What you get should be worth what you pay for, or at least make you happy. Both sides are supposed to be content here. With health insurance — especially with these high deductible plans that are currently the insurance companies profit nirvana — you pay “this”, but don’t get anything until you’ve paid another (huge deductible), “that”. “That” being the bit you can’t afford. Consequently, you don’t use the insurance you pay for. You skip going to the doctor for that recurring sore throat that could be cancer, or that strange rash — a symptom of leukemia. You wait too long because you just can’t afford the deductible this week, this month, this year. The insurance companies smile.
Progress

A comments off I shouldn’t read NPR during lunch presentation.

Wonderland or Not.

“I was lamenting over a tear in my nude Cotton Spandex Jersey Leggings, the pair I needed in order to squeeze into the size 0 Flower Bud Crochet Lace Scoop Back Dress mandated by my (financially troubled and ethically challenged) employer.

Then the call came in:

Sexually provocative hipster out.“

“Still rather emaciated preppy princess, in.”

“I’m glad I opted out of that employee stock thing a magigy.“

Wonderland or Not.