If statistics about winning an appointment for the vaccine are any guide, more and more of us boomers have been-there-done-that. But in the case of Lucy Iscaro of White Plains, New York, she not only finally scored the hottest ticket in town. She made a new friend too.
My husband is excellent company, but the long pandemic lockdown had me craving the society of other women. Maybe that’s why I had an instant kinship one day with a stranger on the other end of the phone.
I think of her as Alicia. But I didn’t actually get her name after I opted to get a callback instead of waiting on New York State’s interminable Covid19 vaccine phone queue.
She called me back and within minutes knew more about me than do most of my friends. Name, date of birth, address, phone number, and intimate bits of my medical history were all revealed. Even though I knew nothing about her, her soft Southern accent and easy manner were disarming.
I had no compunctions about trusting her with my data.
I could tell she had a great sense of humor. She read obscure passages of ridiculous monotonous legalese without snorting derisively like I would and minutes after I recited my date of birth to prove I was over 65 and eligible for the vaccine, she asked me if I were pregnant. That Alicia, what a card!
She finally judged that I could be allowed an inoculation appointment and started searching her database.
An open date came up and I immediately entered it into my calendar. Luckily I used an erasable pen. Her computer started acting up and the date was lost. I deleted the marking but as disappointed as I was, I had to chuckle at her reaction when it happened again.
She cried out to her device, “Oh no, oh no, why are you doing this to me?”
Then she sighed and declared, “I hate technology.”
Who doesn’t? We really were simpatico.
Thirty minutes into our time together, another appointment was found and true to the considerate nature I knew she had, Alicia said, “It will be on Valentines’ Day so you may not want it.”
Oh no, I wanted it. I was so anxious to move towards immunity, I’d grab any appointment.
“Bingo!” I cried, surprising myself because I don’t play bingo but it felt right.
When we parted she said, “Y’all have a good day in New York now.” I knew she really meant it. I wished her a good day too.
Thanks to her efforts I have had my requisite two shots and can plan some outings. If I knew where to find her I’d go hug Alicia.