It's simple math.
But I have updated the website's "Written Things" section.
Also, here's a cautionary tale about Facebook:
What's On Your Mind?
Franklin met Isabel on Facebook. He didn't even have to friend her because she knew next to nothing about manipulating her privacy settings; with one click, he knew everything he needed to know. Information that would normally take him weeks to uncover was simply laid out for him, naked, waiting. One afternoon, she posted this status update:
“Gugh! I found a lump in my left breast! It's probably nothing serious, just like the last two that turned out to just be cysts that needed to be drained (pics up if you're not squeamish!) but now I have to make a doctor's appointment. I hate making doctor's appointments! Lolololol”
Franklin set to work immediately. First he acquired a nondescript, white-paneled van, which was the easy part. The hard part was painting all the easily recognizable medical insignias on its sliding door. The red cross proved little difficulty, but the snakes of the caduceus kept coming out more like worms with ridiculously cartoon faces, and for the life of him he could not draw a heart that looked any better than a first grader's Valentine's Day rendering. But perhaps he was being too hard on himself. Finally, after about two days, he finished the exterior. He checked Isabel's Facebook.
“Argh! Doc can't see me 'til the seventeenth! Doesn't he know the highlight of my month is having him squish my boobies with a giant machine! LOLOLOLOL”
Franklin stenciled the words “Mammo-Van – Free Mammograms!” in pink letters on the side of the van, and parked right next to Isabel's car at work. He stepped out and pretended to have a smoke, or a text conversation on his phone. If anyone came by, he intended to tell them he was on break. But no one came by. He double-checked Isabel's status update to make sure her lunch break was still at two.
He saw her coming. He put his cell phone in the pocket of his freshly pressed lab coat. He waited for her to look quizzically at the van, and then he said, “Good morning.”
“Hi,” she said, and took out her car keys.
Franklin felt sure she'd be ecstatic to see he was offering her exactly what she wanted – for free, no waiting, no doctor's appointments, done and done – but when she didn't jump at the chance, he grew flustered.
He stammered, “Ever, uh, ever had a mammogram?”
“No thanks,” she said, politely averting her eyes as she unlocked her door and slipped inside the safety of her vehicle.
Franklin stood beside the van for a few minutes, nonplussed. His phone beeped to alert him of Isabel's latest status update:
“BURRITOS!”
A woman in an elegant navy pantsuit, forty-ish, approached the van. “You know, I'm probably overdue for one of these.”
Franklin eyed her from head to foot. She'd do.
But I have updated the website's "Written Things" section.
Also, here's a cautionary tale about Facebook:
What's On Your Mind?
Franklin met Isabel on Facebook. He didn't even have to friend her because she knew next to nothing about manipulating her privacy settings; with one click, he knew everything he needed to know. Information that would normally take him weeks to uncover was simply laid out for him, naked, waiting. One afternoon, she posted this status update:
“Gugh! I found a lump in my left breast! It's probably nothing serious, just like the last two that turned out to just be cysts that needed to be drained (pics up if you're not squeamish!) but now I have to make a doctor's appointment. I hate making doctor's appointments! Lolololol”
Franklin set to work immediately. First he acquired a nondescript, white-paneled van, which was the easy part. The hard part was painting all the easily recognizable medical insignias on its sliding door. The red cross proved little difficulty, but the snakes of the caduceus kept coming out more like worms with ridiculously cartoon faces, and for the life of him he could not draw a heart that looked any better than a first grader's Valentine's Day rendering. But perhaps he was being too hard on himself. Finally, after about two days, he finished the exterior. He checked Isabel's Facebook.
“Argh! Doc can't see me 'til the seventeenth! Doesn't he know the highlight of my month is having him squish my boobies with a giant machine! LOLOLOLOL”
Franklin stenciled the words “Mammo-Van – Free Mammograms!” in pink letters on the side of the van, and parked right next to Isabel's car at work. He stepped out and pretended to have a smoke, or a text conversation on his phone. If anyone came by, he intended to tell them he was on break. But no one came by. He double-checked Isabel's status update to make sure her lunch break was still at two.
He saw her coming. He put his cell phone in the pocket of his freshly pressed lab coat. He waited for her to look quizzically at the van, and then he said, “Good morning.”
“Hi,” she said, and took out her car keys.
Franklin felt sure she'd be ecstatic to see he was offering her exactly what she wanted – for free, no waiting, no doctor's appointments, done and done – but when she didn't jump at the chance, he grew flustered.
He stammered, “Ever, uh, ever had a mammogram?”
“No thanks,” she said, politely averting her eyes as she unlocked her door and slipped inside the safety of her vehicle.
Franklin stood beside the van for a few minutes, nonplussed. His phone beeped to alert him of Isabel's latest status update:
“BURRITOS!”
A woman in an elegant navy pantsuit, forty-ish, approached the van. “You know, I'm probably overdue for one of these.”
Franklin eyed her from head to foot. She'd do.
