Vision Quest

Lenscrafters:


"Okay, Ma'am, let me just input your data for your glasses into our system." says Judy, whose name badge says 'Eye-wear Consultant', as she settles in front of her computer.
"All right."
"Spell your name for me."
I spell it.
"Are you still at 4747 56th Avenue?"
"No,"  I ponder.  "What state is that in?"
Judy reads from the screen, "Colorado."
"No, no - we don't really live there, we were just visiting." 
"Alrighty...What is your current address?"
"I don't know - we don't really live here either.  We are staying with some relatives here in Tennessee.  Do you really have to have my address?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Will you take a Georgia address?"
"Yes, Ma'am."  Judy is patient & polite on the surface.  She is a southern girl.
"'Course, we don't really live there, either."  I deliberate.
Judy eyes me as if I am being difficult on purpose.
"Well, it's the closest address I know."  I explain.  "We don't really live ANYWHERE just now."
"Ah."  Judy responds, looking at me as if I might have escaped from an asylum somewhere.  She decides to go on.  "And is this your current cell phone number:  area code 575, 321-"
I am already shaking my head, "No, that was a borrowed cell phone in New Mexico."
"Mexico?"  Judy sighs, as if to say, 'But of course'.
"NEW Mexico.  It's a state.  You know - out west."  It is amazing to me how many people in the States don't seem to know about NEW Mexico.
"And I suppose you don't really live there, either?" says Judy, a trifle more coldly than before.
"True."  I say.  "I do get some mail there, tho.  I just borrowed the phone while I was driving to Colorado."
"Where you don't really live - of course you did.  Do you have a cell phone number that actually works today?  That I could put in the computer?" Judy looks exasperated.
"Sure.  Just let me look up it's number."  I find it & rattle it off.
"& this phone is  - what?  Borrowed?  Stolen?  'Beamed down' from outer space, perhaps?"  Judy is beginning to lose her polite southern veneer.  We haven't even gotten to the part where she inputs the information for my glasses.
"No - I bought this one."  I smile.  "Just so I could have a new number to give you!"  I joke.  Judy is not amused.
"And how will you be paying for your glasses today?"  Judy is all business.
"American Express."
Her fingers are poised over her keyboard.  She glances at me in sheer disbelief that a company like American Express would deem such a shifty character as myself a good credit risk.  "I don't suppose the billing address for this credit card is the Georgia address that you gave me..."
"You're pretty good at this, Judy."
"Dare I ask what address I need to type now?  Or shall I just make one up?"
I sheepishly give her the NEW Mexico address.
"There, is that all you need for now?"  I ask Judy hopefully.  I feel like I've been taking a pop quiz & all of my answers so far have been wrong.  Even in the doctor's office the only thing I got right on the eye chart was 'E'.
"Yes," says Judy.  I detect a relieved note in her voice as well.  "At least that's over."
"Well, for now anyhow..."  I leave it hanging.
Judy looks up at me.  "What do you mean, 'for now'?"
"I'll be back next week for my son's glasses...& I hope YOU will get to be our Eye-wear Consultant.  I sure don't want to have to explain all this over again!"