So, after having gone to the eye doctor yesterday, I went to get my new glasses today.

For the occasion, I dresses as I thought appropriate for a July afternoon with the temperature around 90 and a good chance of thunderstorms:  blue shorts, a old green t-shirt and old, worn orange crocs that I have had since they were in style.  Not the best dressed person that they would see today, I figured, but about like everyone else.  It’s hot.

Oh, and I’d shaved my head a few days ago when I couldn’t stand the heat any longer, so I have skull stubble as well.

You should know that to get the whole picture.

So I went into the store to get glasses.  I brought with me a new pair of Oliver Peoples’ frames that I had had made with my old prescription but had never worn because I didn’t much like them, but I figured that I could use for the new ones if they didn’t have anything I liked better.

When I got to the store, they asked me the usual first question:  do you have insurance?  Now, I don’t, but not because I can’t afford it but because I am in the group of Americans who have been deemed by the insurance companies as uninsurable, in my case because of labile hypertension.

Hearing my answer, the woman behind the desk looked up at me for a moment, studied me,  then asked me if I wanted to go and root through the half-price bin in the back room.

It was only when I said that I wanted the lenses changed in the Oliver Peoples’ frames that her demeanor changed.