Cantankerously Yours
Shades of Benny Hill!
By Wendell Abern
Dear Readers,
To those of you unfamiliar with Benny Hill, he was a very popular and very funny Vaudevillian-type comedian/actor/writer on British and American TV several years ago. Some of his shows still appear on cable occasionally.
Benny Hill was brilliant. Unlike most comedians, he wrote all his own material: every skit, every parody song, every word of dialog, every show, every week.
And his most recurring characters were well-meaning bumblers: travel agents who send couples to vacation on ice floes; policemen who beleaguer little old ladies; illiterates delivering newscasts.
I mention this here because twelve years ago I discovered that Benny Hill’s disciples are running the Ft. Lauderdale Veteran’s Administration.
In 2003, learning that fellow veterans were receiving each of their medications for $6 per month; I decided to obtain all my prescriptions through the VA. I called the Ft.Lauderdale branch. No one answered. I called back, this time waiting through 30 rings. Again, no one answered.
So I called the Miami branch. Someone answered and said, “Veteran’s Administration, Miami Branch, please hold.” Three minutes later, she returned and I said, “Did you close your Ft.Lauderdale branch?”
She said, “No, they just don’t answer the phones there, please hold.” She returned three minutes later and I asked, “How can they not answer the phones? They’re a government agency!”
“Ft.Lauderdale has only two phones and the people who answer them have too much to do, please hold.”
I hung up. I called back the next day and announced myself as Governor Jeb Bush (this was 2003, remember). She didn’t believe me. But she gave me the number of the national office. Three menus and 33 minutes later, I reached someone who knew what she was doing; she sent me forms to fill out and send to the national military archives. Ten days later, I received papers verifying my two years of military service, six years in the Reserves and honorable discharge.
And I have been receiving my medications from the VA Pharmacy ever since. The prices have gone up to $9 per prescription; still a terrific bargain.
A few years ago, the VA built a new Ft.Lauderdale facility, in Tamarac. As the French proverb states, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”
In all fairness, though, twice in the last seven years someone answered a phone. However, three times I left medical reports (from my personal physician) for my nurse practitioner, and she either never read them or never received them.
But the fact that Benny Hill’s protégés were still in charge was confirmed last week when the young woman manning the desk at Bravo Section told me I was no longer eligible for veterans’ benefits.
“What?” I shouted. “Why?”
“I don’t know why,” she said, consulting her computer. “This just says you’re ineligible.”
“I want to see Dr. Greenberg!”
“Sir, I can’t let you see Dr. Greenberg because you’re not eligible.”
“Is this a dream? This has to be a dream.”
Looking at her computer again, she said, “Sir, according to this, you have not been eligible since February.”
“And who decided that? And why?”
“I have no idea. But I would suggest you go to the Eligibility Office.”
“Wait. If this is a dream, why aren’t you jumping my bones?”
“Sir, I have other people waiting. Please go to the Eligibility Office.”
I went to Eligibility, where I met Michael, who quickly consulted his computer and said, “Yep. According to Atlanta, Georgia, you are not eligible for benefits.”
“Can Atlanta tell you why I’ve been receiving benefits for twelve years and who determined I should no longer get them?”
“All it says is that you did not serve on active duty.”
“WHAT? I was on a heavy cruiser, the USS Albany, for two years! How do you think I received benefits in the first place?”
Michael handed me a four-page form and said, “Look, to settle this, send away to the Naval Archives and they’ll send a copy of your discharge papers.”
“Yeah? I’ll do better than that.”
I grabbed the documents he gave me, drove home, retrieved my Honorable Discharge certificate, plus the discharge papers the archives had sent me sixteen years ago, returned to the VA and shoved them in Michael’s face. He studied them for a minute and said, “Yes, but this says you were discharged from the reserves.”
“Of course it does! In those days, after two years of active duty, everyone had to serve six years in the reserves!” I waved my DD-214 form at him. “But this also shows I served on active duty!”
“Sir, I’m sorry, you’ll have to send to the archives again.”
“Michael,” I said, gathering up my papers, “I’m going to leave you now and go find someone who knows how to read.”
Fuming, I headed back to Bravo Section. Once again, his receptionist asked for the last four numbers of my Social Security card and looked me up on her computer.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I can’t let you see Dr. Greenberg; you’re not eligible.”
I turned around slowly, looking to my right and my left.
“Sir?”
“Where is the camera?” I asked. “And the director?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, it’s very obvious someone is filming a re-make of a Marx Brothers movie. Either that or we’re on ‘Candid Camera.’”
“Sir, I have other people waiting.”
I never saw Dr. Greenberg. But I did send away to the archives. At this writing, I am still waiting for the forms they will send, which will be precisely the ones I already have.
I am hoping Michael will be able to read them.
Cantankerously Yours,
Wendell Abern
Wendell Abern can be reached at [email protected].