Apr. 10th, 2007

draggonlaady: (Grinding Bones)
The following is an actual conversation, as closely as I can remember it. Phone call basically first thing in the morning. Sounded like an older woman, talked very quietly so I had trouble hearing her without cranking the phone volume to max. I'm sure you can figure out which parts of the conversation were me and which were her.

"I've got a calf that don't want to be born, can the doctor come take a look?"
"Doesn't want to be born as in the cow is past her due date, or doesn't want to be born as in the cow is currently pushing and making no progress?"
"I think it's stuck."
"Can you tell anything about the position? Are there feet or a head or anything visible?"
"No, I don't know."
(ok, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt on that, since I can't see either of my grandmothers trying to pull a calf)
"Ok, well, were are you? Can you give me directions to your place?"
"Wellpinit, so ya go to Ford, that's about 17 miles..."(no, no, that's about THIRTY miles, hon)
"And then you turn and go out to the Indian Reservation, and it's the first place past Bigham's store."
"I don't know where anything is in Wellpinit, ma'am, and I'm only vaguely aware of where Wellpinit is. Do I take Reservation Road, then?"
"No, why would you take Reservation Road? That won't get you to Bigham's."
"I don't know where Bigham's is, ma'am. What road should I take?"
"Well, Bigham's is the only store in Wellpinit, you just go across the bridge and then.."
"Ma'am. what. is. the. name. of. the. road. on. which. i. should. turn?!"
"Ford-Wellpinit road, of course!"
sigh. "Thank you. Ok, so then I cross the bridge, and then what?"
"Well then you go another mile. Or maybe it's two...I don't remember. And then you get to the store."
"Ok, and is your place on the left or the right of the road?"
"The right. no, left. no, right."
sigh. "What's the address, ma'am?"
some address I don't recall...
"And can I get your phone number in case he gets lost on the way out?"

(I'm jotting all this down, and the receptionist reads over my shoulder...and I see her get all pissy looking when I write down the name. She passes me a note saying "GET MONEY TODAY! We've never done anything for these people that didn't end up in collections!!")

"And one last thing before I send him out, ma'am (cuz I sure as hell am not doing this! i'm pawning it off on dr. s!)...I just need to make sure the cow's caught before he gets there. Is she in a pen?"
"Well, she's in the field..."
"Can you move her to a small pen or get a rope on her? He's going to need to be able to walk up to the cow to examine her."
"Well, won't she eventually just lay down and not run away?"
"I'm sure she will, ma'am, but that might be in 2 or 3 days when she's so sick she might die. You need to catch the cow so he can get close to it."
"Can't he just 'eyeball' her and see if the calf's gonna come out ok?"
"No, he can't. He will have to be able to walk up to the cow...if the calf won't come out ok, he needs to be able to help it, and he can't do that from across the field."
"Well, I don't know..."
"Ma'am, if he comes out there, and that cow's not caught, we'll be charging you $100 an hour for him to play cowboy and chase her around--whether or not he ever catches her. You need to get the cow caught."
"Can't he..."
"NO! I am NOT sending him on a thirty mile drive to 'eyeball' a cow from across the field. You need to catch the cow, or he will not be coming out."
"Well...I guess I'll go see if we can catch her and call you back..."
"You do that, ma'am. Thank you."

She never called back.

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