Maybe it is the way my name vibrates in the universe, my numerology or a solar eclipse, but lately I’ve become the victim of mistaken identity. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised because it was accidentally predicted during the 70’s.
And in way or another, the hippie-chick was right.
I’d just spend the day traveling from the snowy banks of Chicago past the snow-covered pines of Michigan to visit my friend Karen at college during the last leg of my winter break. Shortly after arriving, we went to a coffee shop and ran into someone Karen knew from school who then sat with us. I remember neither this woman’s name, her face, or her major. I do, however, remember that comment.
“Wherever I go, whatever I do,” she said, getting philosophical, “I create a little dent in the earth and all the lose nuts and bolts come rolling down.”
It somehow spun around and implanted itself in my life.
I didn’t mind it when I was parking my bike to a meter and a shop proprietor ran out, asked my name if I lived nearby and then found my house after I mentioned the street I lived on. I didn’t mind when the people in that writing group turned out to be a several cards short of a deck. I minded it when it landed on my medical files.
I first learned about this when I needed a copy of them after a colonoscopy. When the report came back I learned that somewhere between office visit A and B, I was someone who spends a great deal of time in the loo and a hypochondriac to. The rest of the report, however, said I seemed cool, calm and collected.
I called the doctor, and it turns out that someone with the same last name was there for an appointment the same day and the transcriber switched our files. This same person may have been following me because another report listed me as being a paranoid schizophrenic. I know I’ve dabbled in self-defense here and there and am a wanna-be pepper spray expert, but would it really sway it that much?
Even Facebook got into the picture when they began sending my personal emails to all my friends while un-friending and re-friending the same people before dropping them all together. At first, I thought these Facebook friends were mad at me, though it turned out to be Facebook through and through. A few then un-friended me because they thought my account virus-ridden. And this went on even after I wrote to the company.
Then came the insurance companies. One said that my policy had none of the bells and whistles I thought it had before she discovered she had entered the wrong customer ID, which probably belonged to that guy in my doctor’s office.
Sometimes, it barely pays to go anywhere anymore.