Adventures at the Optometrist's
"Tessek," said one of the salespeople behind the tall reception desk.
"I have an appointment," I said. I didn't catch her response.
"I have an appointment," I repeated, "at 2 o' clock."
"Oh, at 2 o'clock" she said, looking at her watch, then looking at the computer. After confirming my name, she motioned to me to join her at one of the shorter desks.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I speak little English."
"It's okay," I replied. "I speak little Hungarian."
"What is your address?" she asked.
I gave her the street address, but realized I didn't know how to give her the floor number and I had no way of writing it for her. It did not seem to matter.
"When is your birthday?" she asked.
"Let me show you my ID card." I said, fishing for it in my wallet. That would give her the other details that she wanted as well.
"Here is your customer card," she said, handing me what looked like a blue credit card with the company logo on it. "Do you wear glasses or contacts?"
"My glasses are broken," I said, taking them from a special pocket in my bag. She took them accross the room to examine them. When she came back, I had pulled out my prescription from my visit with the ophthamologist last year.
"Wait," she said, "I go ..."
She came back in a few minutes with the optometrist, who also apologized for her inability to speak English before inviting me back to her office. "My colleague said your glasses are broke. Do you have any other problems?"
"No," I replied. "I just need to get new glasses.
The exam was fairly predictable except that the first time she asked which is better, she was flipping the lens. When she switched tactics and was asking me whether I saw better with the lens that was wearing or the corrective one she put in front of it, and she did it twice, it seemed the same to me. Of course it was the same, but there was a noticeable difference with and without the lens that I was supposed to tell her about. I'm sure she double-checked and maybe even triple-checked the lens before writing the prescription. It seems that she tested my right eye three times and my left eye twice.
After the eye exam, finding frames that fit proved easier than the last few times I've bought glasses. They had several options for small faces. The website did a good job of explaining the sizes, though it was not necessary at the store since I could try them on.
"Do you like metal or plastic?" she asked as we surveyed the spectacles on display.
"It doesn't matter." I said.
"What color do you like?"
"Yellow is my favorite color," I said, "but for glasses, maybe black or brown."
She found a couple of pairs for me to try. I found a couple of pairs to try. In the end, I think it was the pair that she brought me that I finally chose.
She brought a paper for me to sign. "What am I signing?" I asked while the salesperson led me back to the shorter desks.
She went to consult her translator while I sat down at the table.
"It's about privacy," she said.
She took the glasses I had chosen and with the aid of some diagrams began marking the lens'. She asked me to put the glasses on and look at her eyes. I did so; she made another mark on the glasses, then consulted the diagrams and put more marks on the lenses.
"We send an email if the glasses are ready," she said. "September 7."
That will be my third day of classes.
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