Yesterday, I wanted to wear blue in honor of World Diabetes Day. So I donned my navy Jack’s Pack t-shirt with a light blue, long-sleeved t-shirt underneath.
Gregg and I went out to lunch, and our waitress asked, “What does your shirt say?”
“Jack’s Pack — that’s our team name for the JDRF Walk to Cure Diabetes. I’m wearing this shirt, because today is World Diabetes Day.”
“It is? My nephew has diabetes,” she said.
“Type 1?” I asked.
“Is that the bad kind?” she replied.
“I remember now. Yes, that’s the bad kind. That’s what my nephew has,” she said, answering her own question.
The bad kind! The classic comments keep coming! First Wilford, then the lizard spit lady and now the know-it-all waitress.
Is there is a good kind of diabetes?!
“Our eight-year-old son has type 1 diabetes,” I said.
“Is he on the pump? My nephew, he’s eight, too, and he’s on the pump,” she said.
“Not yet,” Gregg replied.
“Oh, you should get him on the pump,” she advised, as if she knew what she was talking about.
“It’s an insurance thing,” I said.
“Same thing for my brother and sister-in-law,” she said. “They both work for FedEx, and they had to have their insurance person ask and ask and ask, and finally they got the pump. That’s what you have to do. You have to keep asking, and then you can get it.”
Yep, she was an insurance expert, too.
Gregg and I couldn’t help but chuckle and talk about her as soon as we left the restaurant. She meant well, she was nice, and we both appreciated that she took an interest in my shirt. But, it’s funny how people think they know what they’re talking about and freely give advice, when, really, they’re just talking out of their elbows.