27 September 2006

Donut holes.

If it's good enough for indigent senior citizens and flipper people, I suppose it's good enough for me?

So at the ol' jobby job today they revealed to us our benefit plan for 2007, and the biggest surprise was the fact that our health insurance offerings no longer include HMOs or PPOs but instead are Medicare Part D style donut-hole coverage.

For those of you not familiar with the bloated fiasco of a scandal that is Medicare Part D, here's how it works.

Medicare pays 75% of the cost of seniors' drugs for the first $2250 after a $250 deductible. Then, at $2500, coverage stops entirely.

Medicare doesn't pay a red cent of the next $2600, meaning that seniors have to pay 100% of their drug costs out of pocket. After the $5100 mark, coverage resumes at a higher rate.

That's pretty much how our 2007 coverage works, and this seems to be the trend in health insurance.

Basically, there's three different tiers of coverage, ranging from $9 to $50 a week. And basically you have to guesstimate the amount of money that you're going to spend on medical expenses the next year.

The only people for whom this kind of scheme would work are those with predictable chronic illnesses.

If you're healthy, one of two things can happen. Either you can guess too low and get slammed with a catastrophic illness or accident that slams you with your entire donut hole at once (and then makes you pay a stiff percentage of the subsequent coverage), tough luck, too bad, you lose. Or you guess too high, stay healthy, and the bastards at the health insurance company make money on your sorry overinsured ass.

This is just yet another degradation in the state of managed healthcare in this country. Exactly how bad do things need to get before the government stops letting patients be victimized by an avaricious and cruel industry where dishonesty, willful ignorance and exploitation are the standard operating procedure?

I know right-wingers like to claim that universal health coverage will lead to Soviet style bread lines, but really, let's get real for a second. Let's, for the sake of argument, grant the wingers their worst fear: the dreaded LINE. (Because god forbid, if you actually make healthcare accessible, people might want to use it.)

I wait 45 minutes to an hour past the time of my appointment to see my doctor anyway. Waiting is not the worst thing in the world.

Staying sick because you can't afford to get well is worse - for patients, for their employers due to lost productivity, and due to everybody who eventually winds up footing the bill when their conditions make medical treatment inevitable.

Going broke because you failed to anticipate that you'd be paralyzed or get cancer is worse. And the problem's not just with uninsured. Health insurance companies are so pigfuckingly merciless about denying claims that even being insured is no insurance. The fact is, health insurance companies have every financial incentive to deny and deny and deny claims as long as humanly possible, and the current regulatory environment allows them to do just that.

If you like watching your health coverage turn to shit, vote Republican this November.

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15 September 2006

My Las Vegas Hate List - the first in a continuing series

Las Vegas is a misanthrope's wet dream. This city provides some of the world's most fascinating people-watching, as people from all over the world descend upon Sin City to lose themselves, or find themselves.

But my god, some of them are so fucking stupid I want to push them in front of traffic.

Tourists ... residents ... everybody. Nincompoops. The closest thing we have to an ivory tower is the Stratosphere Tower. And while it offers Dean Martinis in its lounge, you won't find any other kind of dean.

I shouldn't complain though. This city wouldn't exist at all if anyone in America knew anything about math.

This is the first in a series in which I will document the stupidity of man, as a public service to the three of you who aren't total morons.

Today's topic: Elevator Idiots.

How is it possible that people's IQ drops on elevators faster than the elevators themselves? Every single day I witness somebody completely in his or her own little world, failing to pay attention to anything that happens in an elevator. It's like a stupid shaft.

My office is on the mezzanine level of our hotel - right above the casino floor. There are 11 floors of guestrooms above the mezzanine, plus the pool and spa.

Every single day, at least once and sometimes twice, I try to take the elevator down to the casino level, and someone coming down from upstairs tries to get off on my floor. Even though the CASINO button on the elevator is clearly still lit up! I usually say something like "Next floor," to which I get the blankest stares this side of Terri Schiavo. I usually have to explain in greater detail, "The casino is one more floor down" before they get it.

One time I saw somebody get out of the downbound elevator on the mezzanine level and then immediately turn around and get into an upbound elevator without so much as looking at it. For all I know the guy did that all day. Up and down.

Then this morning, I got on the elevator in the parking deck on the 7th floor. Someone had parked on the roof (which is employee only) and was already in the elevator. He asked me if this was the casino level. Looking right at me and the sign behind me reading CASINO ACCESS LEVEL 1 ONLY.

Then a couple got on the elevator at level 4. Finally we got down to the casino level and the oblivious roof-parking numbnuts got off, and I started to get off, but I noticed the couple staying on. I told them "This is the casino level." They said, "Oh, we're not going to this casino." They were going to the casino next door.

So they decided to stay on the elevator.

Because they wanted to go next door.

Let me repeat that, because I did a double take when I witnessed it.

They decided to stay on the elevator because they wanted to go next door.

I practically lost my shit and had to actually make an effort to avoid raising my voice as I gave them directions to their casino of choice.

So do the world a favor. The next time you get on an elevator, don't zone out. Don't start contemplating your belly button lint just yet. Please just focus on the little digital number on the display. When it matches the number on the button you pushed, get off.

Thank you.

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06 September 2006

Bad Blogger. Good Vegas.

I am the worst blogger ever.

I know I've been neglecting the place. It's been, what, five months since I last posted? Life, as it has a tendency to do so, throws shit in your face quite frequently.

Well, I'm back, refreshed, resurgent and ready for what's next.

Now that my next travel guide is in the bag (Open Road's Best of Las Vegas), I will actually have time to devote to my blog again.

Kind of a lot's happened with me in the recent months. Read on below the jump, if you care about my life update.

The big news is that I've moved to Las Vegas. This was spurred in part by me being laid off from my former employer, Meridian KSI, in February. I'd been busting my ass for them for 4 years, and then two weeks after writing a press release touting our "record sales" and "double digit profits" they shitcanned me and three other people.

I spent a very depressing 3 1/2 months looking for work, mostly in Northern Virginia, but for some positions out here in Las Vegas. Finally, as my money's about to run out, I get an offer for a copywriter job at GTSI, a beltway bandit IT solutions provider. Depressing work, but great pay and hey, it's a job. Of course, right as we're deep into the interview process I get a phone call from one of the world's largest casino companies, wanting to interview me for a copywriter position. So I flew out to Vegas, met with a couple of people, and had a job offer waiting for me the next day.

So in mid-May I started scrambling in order to get my affairs in order prior to my departure. They wanted me to start less than 2 weeks from receipt of my offer, so it was a breakneck effort. On May 27, I boarded a JetBlue flight at IAD and left Virginia for the last time. Five hours later I had landed at McCarran International Airport at my new home.

I spent my first six weeks here living with a couple I had met on Craigslist. For the random nature of such endeavors they turned out to be really nice people and very easy to get along with. Their cats? Not so much.

So soon after we moved into our new apartment, right off Flamingo Road, 1 mi. from UNLV and 2 mi. off the Strip. We've been slowly but surely getting settled in.

My job is sweet - I write direct mail, letters mostly, to customers in our database. So it's fairly good exposure. I'm working with a lot of really knowledgeable people and getting exposed to lots of different aspects of this fascinating business.

The work is intense, but not unmanageable.

After work, we've been able to experience a lot of cool stuff: saw Toni Braxton, Berlin, the Romantics and Tool in concert (not all the same show); saw Elton John and Celine Dion's shows at Caesars, saw a Beatles tribute band, the classic topless revue Donn Arden's Jubilee! (aka Boobilee), and lots more.

Watch this space for an exciting announcement about a new SWINA project, to tie in with my upcoming book.

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