Bad back

I’ve never heard someone say, “I have a good back.” A great butt? Sure. Killer abs? Absolutely. But backs are either present, or bad. My back used to be present, but it broke bad recently. What happened? A fucking cold. Can you believe it? I couldn’t. But there I was, coughing my lungs out and sneezing my nose off, and somewhere in the middle of all that whiplashing, I felt the muscles in my mid-back stiffen, twist into a thousand mini-pretzels, and freeze into a solid mass, like Han Solo in carbonite.

When your back is on the fritz, you’re out of commission. Sitting in a chair hurts, which means it hurts to work. Laying down hurts, which means it hurts to go to bed. Everything between work and sleep hurts too, so you tend to walk like Frankenstein’s monster and act like him. The situation stinks, or maybe that’s the tiger balm I use on my aching muscles.

Usually, when stuff like this happens, I suck it up and deal. Not that I’m trying to be macho. I’m actually a total wimp. But in my experience, a bad back goes away with rest, yoga, and cannabis gummies. This time, however, nothing worked. So after a few days, I went to a chiropractor.

I got to the chiropractor’s office a few minutes before it opened, so I stood there with my thumb, figuratively, up my ass. While I was waiting, a woman arrived. When the office opened, I held the door for her. She didn’t say thank you, which was fine, but she insisted that the receptionist check her in ahead of me, even though I was there first.

Her check-in went poorly. Apparently, she had a monthly subscription that included a set number of adjustments. Her husband had canceled the subscription, or maybe she had canceled it to save money. It wasn’t clear, and her story kept changing. Basically, either her husband was to blame, or the chiropractor’s office was at fault, or gremlins had canceled the subscription. Pretty much everyone and everything was culpable, except for her.

But as it turned out, the subscription hadn’t been canceled. To me, this was either good news, or neutral news, but to her it was an outrage.

“I’ve been paying for chiropractic care for the past two months, but I didn’t use it, because I thought it was canceled, but you’re telling me it’s not canceled?”

“That’s correct,” the receptionist said.

What the receptionist left unsaid was this: The charge appeared on the woman’s credit card bill, meaning the subscription status was the exact opposite of unknowable.

“Well, is there any way I can get a refund, or some kind of make-good?”

“No, that’s against policy.”

“But it wasn’t my fault!”

Once again, she threw her husband under the bus, then the chiropractor’s office, then the gremlins. Then she began to cry. And by cry, I mean sob. Real Niagara Falls shit.

“I wanted to stop the subscription to save money, and I was willing to go without treatment, even though I’m rebuilding myself and I really need it. But now you’re telling me that I paid for two months and I had to suffer!? Why are you doing this to me?”

I wasn’t entirely clear what she meant by “rebuilding” herself, but I thought I could empathize. After all, my back was a mess, too. But as she carried on, I realized the money, not health, was the crux of the matter.

“I’m out $140,” she said. “Do you see the problem? This is a disaster. I was trying to save money, but because someone screwed up, I’m wasting it.”

At this point, I should tell you that the median hourly wage in Los Angeles County is $24. In theory, the woman was out six hours of work. In reality, I have no idea what she did for a living, or how much money was in her bank account. But she drove a Mercedes-Benz G-Wagen, wore Lululemon, and carried a Gucci bag. Also, her rings had bling. None of these status details made her sympathetic. Ditto for the endless crying, as well as the instinct to blame everyone else. But it was the long-ass wait that was getting on my nerves.

“Excuse me,” I said, “but I just need to check in. Maybe we can do that, and then you can sort out your situation.”

The man behind me in line seconded my motion. The woman behind him agreed. If the matter went to a vote, we had the majority. But a chiropractor’s is not a democracy, and an entitled customer is a tyrant.

“I was here first,” the woman said.

“No, you weren’t. I held the door for you, then you zipped ahead in line. No biggie. But maybe you can do everyone a solid and just step aside for a second, while she checks us in, then you can do your thing.”

“I’m in pain,” the woman said, as if her pain justified her behavior.

That about summed it up, but the nonsense continued, uninterrupted, for another ten minutes. Eventually, she left without getting a refund or treatment. And a little after that, I saw the chiropractor.

“What seems to be the problem today?” he asked.

“Well, I’ve had back pain for a few days,” I said.

“Is there pain anywhere else?”

Yes! After witnessing the shit show in the lobby, there was a massive pain… in my ass. But I didn’t mention that that because, based on my recent experience, chiropractors don’t have the tools to treat that sort of pain.

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A book for people who 💙 this newsletter

Big thank you to the situation normies who have purchased & read my novel, Not Safe for Work. I love hearing from you, whether you leave a review, or drop me a line. And if you haven’t bought the bought, you should! Because if you love Situation Normal, there’s an 11 in 10 chance you’ll laugh your butt off reading my slacker noir set in the porn industry at the dawn of Web 2.0.

Not Safe for Work is available at Amazon and all the other book places.

*The ebook is .99, so you can’t go too far wrong. Just sayin’.

Charles Manson Burger is a go!

A big thank you go out to

Sheila Moeschen

and Kevin Davis for putting my latest act of absurdist journalism over the top! Kevin and Sheila rule. Look for my report on the Munch Box, Charles Manson’s favorite LA burger joint, Sunday, June 22.

Stick around and chat!

1. How’s your back?

2. Is there a pain in your ass? Explain.

3. Do you stay on top of your finances, or take your ignorance out on the world?

4. What’s her husband’s story? Get creative!

5. Have you ever hurt your back due to sneezing, coughing, or for some other embarrassing reason? Tell me I’m not alone.