FOR the record, I’m all for finding cute excuses to see someone you have a crush on, like, if you were to be a regular customer at a bar a person works at, or signed up for a gym where a particular trainer makes you googly-eyed.
It's a great way to see them regularly, and also show that you have something in common.
Like...I ALSO like to work out! I ALSO like to take jägerbombs! Let’s move in together!
But there are wrong ways to find excuses to see someone. An this is one of them:
If you are interested in your local veterinarian, DON’T KEEP YOUR DOG SICK JUST SO YOU CAN SEE THE VET.
This will not win you over with anyone who works there.
Or pretty much anyone else in the entire world.
Somebody make a poster! (And call P.E.T.A.)
The offender in question was Bart, this guy who my friend Hailey, a veterinarian, said was cute, had a successful fishing charter business and had a very unique dog breed that made him seem rather interesting.
The office employees had alerted Hailey, who was single, to Bert when he first came into the office.
The office manager winked when handing over his dog’s papers.
Hailey and Bert talked about his job, her job, flirted a little and then finally got around to talking about some “health issues” Bart’s dog was having (ha).
She said it had something to do with allergies or skin rashes or something.
She told Bart that the problem could be easily solved with medication that he could get from the pharmacy.
She wrote him a prescription (or called one in? How does a vet work??) told him she’d maybe check out his fishing charter business one day, and then he left.
But then Bart was back.
TWO WEEKS LATER.
...For the same problem.
“Yea...I think my dog is sick again,” he said picking the miserable thing up and putting him on the metal table.
“Oh no, the pills aren’t helping?” Hailey asked.
“Oh. No. I actually haven’t been giving him the pills,” Bart said. “And I figured I'd just rather bring him in when he’s so sick.”
“He wouldn’t be sick if you gave him the pills,” Hailey said, confused and pissed.
“Yea, I know. But he was getting better on his own and...you know...I'm sure he's fine, it’s just nice to get a ‘professional opinion’” he said.
AND THEN HE WINKED AT HER.
Hailey said she had to give the poor sick dog a steroid shot while Bart, unconcerned, INVITED HER OUT ON HIS BOAT FOR THAT WEEKEND.
Why couldn’t he have just called up the vet’s office and asked her out? Why did he have to drag his poor dog in there? Why couldn't he have just given the dog the damn pills?
I mean...how is that attractive to a veterinarian?
That’s like smoking a pack of cigarettes to impress a hot doctor. Or texting a writer the wrong “your.”
It’s basically is the opposite of having something in common.
Hailey smiled politely and made up an excuse.
She didn’t tell him that she had actually changed her mind completely, that she now felt scared for his boat passengers if he was so irresponsible and cared so little about the well-being of another living thing.
...You know, in her "professional opinion."
Hey you! Sumbit your Toolbag Tuesday story, canine-related or not, to JennyJenny504@gmail.com.