By Hunter Buckett | GUEST CONTRIBUTOR
Hunter Buckett is a 30 year old man. He loves spending time in his neighbor’s backyard.
I have been through many terrible events in my life: hour-long flight delays, Postmate delivery showing up with the wrong order – that’s the list. But I just got an eye test, and it was truly the worst experience I’ve ever had. It was my first appointment with my new physician, Dr. Rubin. I had stopped going to my old doctor, Dr. Sandy because he kept calling me overweight and saying I have cardiac disease, and I didn’t appreciate the rudeness. I hoped Dr. Rubin would be better.
So far, the appointment was going great. He told me to open my mouth and say “ahh,” which was lots of fun. He also looked in my ear, and said there was “some wax.” Funny guy!
But then, things took a dramatic turn for the worse when Dr. Rubin asked if I would like to take an eye test.
“Sure,” I said, not realizing that I had just made a deal with the devil. It all began when Dr. Rubin asked me to look at a chart with letters on it.
“Put this spoon over your left eye,” he said.
Of course, I refused his offer because I have common sense.“Excuse me, Doc, but spoons are not meant for my eyes. They are for eating potato salads and pumpkin bisque.”
“Mr. Buckett, we need to test one eye at a time,” he persisted. “Would you like an eye patch instead?”
This really got my blood boiling!
“Do I LOOK like a pirate?” I demanded. (I truly did want to know if I look like a pirate, as I have terrible vision).
“Lot’s of people wear eye patches,” said Dr. Rubin, “not just pirates.” So now “doctor” Rubin was trying to make me look like a pirate, AND he was arguing with me?? No thank you.
“No spoon, no patch!” I declared. It was time to stand my ground and be assertive.
“Okay, whatever you say,” replied Dr. Rubin. My patience was draining faster than a swimming pool with a big hole in it (VERY FAST, trust me).
“Please begin reading,” said Dr. Rubin.
I took a deep breath, ready to put all this behind me. “I’m sorry for being rude just then,” I said.
“It’s fine, I just really need you to read the letters,” he shot back.
I was really expecting him to apologize back to me (which is why I apologized in the first place), but I shrugged it off and began with the first line: “P-E-C-F-D.”
Vision isn’t all about letters – I also need to know how well I can see numbers and shapes!
The feeling was incredible. “Hunter, you son of a bitch, you did it again!” I said to myself, out loud. What a champ. I was literally shaking at the good fortune of having guessed it 100%. I gave myself a high five and was ready to high tail it out of there, when the doctor gave me some awful news.
“That is wrong,” said Dr. Rubin. Wrong?? What is this, a game show?? Now I know my vision isn’t great, but even I could see that the man in front of me was Dr. Rubin, NOT Alex Trebek.
“Please read the next line,” he had the nerve to say.
Seething with anger, I continued: “Q-Z-T-A-C— wait a second!” I said. “Why are there only letters here?”
“Because,” said Dr. Rubin, “we are testing how well you can read.”
This explanation made absolutely no sense. Vision isn’t all about letters – I also need to know how well I can see numbers and shapes! Clearly, Dr. Rubin must not even know about numbers and shapes. Shapes! Like the blurry round thing, or the elusive, cloudy lump I can’t quite make out. Even my 6-year-old daughter knows about that one. And why were there no pictures of mayonnaise? How will I know whether I can see mayonnaise, or other condiments for that matter? And what does mayonnaise even look like?
“That’s the final straw,” I barked. “I’m out of here.”
I grabbed my cane and promptly marched straight out of his office, and into a stone pillar. Now I’m back in this office, how’s that for fair?
What do you mean, “he’s out for lunch?” I need to see a doctor! ♦
Ari Mostow and Nate Odenkirk have perfect, 30-30 vision.