I have a job that requires me to drive from site-to-site. I developed a medical condition during an extended trip, that required my being rushed to a hospital by a co-worker. I was diagnosed as having Thorassic Outlet Syndrome. Simply put, I was told that holding my arms high on the steering wheel was pinching blood vessels and cutting off oxygen to my brain. I was told that if I held my arms down, this would aliviate the problem.
I did this, and things went alright for a time, until the problem occoured again, and as before, I needed to be rushed to the hospital. This next hospital left me sitting in a bed for half a day. When they finally came to see me, I was given an unnessesary cat scan which showed nothing, and some blood was drawn.
I waited another hour and a half, and a doctor came in to see me. He told me basically, that not only could they not fix what was wrong with me... They didn't have the faintest idea what it was. The only thing these incompetant quacks could clue me in about, was that the last hospital I had just paid 800 dollars too, had mis-diagnosed me, and that it wasn't Thorassic outlet syndrome.
Then they told me I needed to go to another clinic. (Obviously, this "other clinic" was most likely affiliated with the hospital, so I was just getting what I call a 'roll-over'. Meaning, they would also bill me, and send me somewhere else, and so on, and so forth.) For logical reasons, I didn't go to the clinic. I ended up wasting almost a full day at this hospital for an unnessesary cat-scan and a blood test.
Then the bills came. These money-grubbing sadists charged me well over $3,500. Most of it was covered by my insurance. The rest was billed to me. Here's the funny part: they billed me separately for "Professional Services". If these people were so professional, why were they not only. Not able to fix the problem... They didn't even have the slightest idea what it was.
I was ripped off by one hospital, and now another, and no closer to finding out what was wrong with me. I decided they had gotten more than enough money from my insurance company as it was, and wasn't going to give them any of mine as I left there in the same exact condition I'd arrived and also missed almost a full days pay while I sat waiting for the doctor to see me.
This is when I began recieving the harrassing phone calls from Como Law Firm. These bottom-feeding scumbags were relentless. They rang my phone at all hours of the day, and since the phone I was using was a work phone, and not in my name, I told them I was someone else. They said they didn't care and kept calling demanding money. Then the letters came, and then the summons.
The summons stated three things... 1. That I had entered into a contract with the hospital, which was true. 2. That I had been provided valuable goods and services by the plantiff. 3. That I had neglected to pay the plantiff... 1 and 3 were correct. Well, I guess two out of three ain't bad. I called the law firm and was told that the person handling the account was a man by the name of "Michaels" or "Ickells" or something like that. They said it fast and transferred me.
I told the man who I was, and tried to explain to him that the hospital had performed a breach of contract, because they had provided me with no "valuable goods and services" to speak of, as the complaint states. This obnoxiously arrogant, egotistical, narcisisstic, hippocritical, self-rightous, sanctimonious, ambulance-chasing a-hole begins raising his voice almost immediately, telling me I'm "wasting his time", and his voice had reached the shouting point as he screamed into the phone "DID YOU GO TO THE HOSPITAL??!! Did they look at you???!!! DIIIIIIIDDDDDD THEEEEEYYYY LOOOOOOOKKKKK AT YOOOOOOOUUUU???!!!"
Apparantly, this supposedly "educated" man's little acorn-sized walnut-brain had formed the idea that a doctor glancing at you warrants, (and justifies) a three and a half grand worth's of charges, whether the patient benifits in any way shape or form... Or not. This weasely, self-important, little man with a title then told me "We have your signature, so you're screwed. And you're going to have to pay attourney fees and court costs, bla bla bla".
I decided I had no choice but to pay it. There's no way you can win against pin-headed little pri*ks like this. I decided I was going to pay him in person. I was going to see if this little man had the nerve to insult me to my face, as he had on the phone. I called to find the address of the law firm, since the address they gave me was a P.O. Box. The secretary turned into a first class bioctus when I asked for their address. She said "We don't do that."
I assured her I'd find it myself, which I did within minutes by doing a reverse search of the number. This morning I put on my best suit and was going to go down there with my friend, so I'd have a witness. He had planned to record what happened in Michael's office, if we made it there. I arrived at my friends house and called to see what hours this Mr Michaels worked. The bioctus from the previous day was again at the helm. I told her I was coming down to pay my bill, and asked what hours Mr Michaels would be there.
She told me "we don't do that." Well I don't make my money on the backs of people I've bent-over, like these vultures do; I work for it, so I advised this bubble-headed, mental-midget that I wasn't sending anyone any money because I wanted a reciept, and I wanted one from the social parasite known as Mr Michaels. This bumbling good-time-girl told me that her criminal gang resides in a "security building" and that I'd never get in.
Not feeling like hanging around a St Paul slum, to waltz in behind the u.P.S. Man to choke that letcherous lawyer scumbag with his own tie after he lipped off to me, I simply breathed a long sigh, hung my head, and knowing that things would only get worse for the little guy once again because you can't beat a lawyer with anything but your fists... Gave that uppity skank my credit card number.
These people are worthless dredges, who should be beaten about-the-head with wet carps until they at least attain the humility of toilet-trained, feces-throwing babboons. If there's a god in heaven, I pray he waits until these lower forms of scum stick their 8-pound flipper-baby water heads out the window of the precious "secured building" they use to hide their vile acts from the public eye in, and strikes them dead.
In conclusion, it's painfully apparant to me, that only someone possessing the certain-sense of psychic clairvoyance nessessary would be able to understand why people are out bombing abortion clinics, but no one has constructively turned this negativity towards erradicating the world of this scourge known as lawyers.By simply eliminitating the pseudo humans that reside at this particular establisment alone, you'd actually raise the intelligence and morality level of the american gene-pool. I regret that by being unable to have gotten my hands on Mr Michaels, or whatever this spineless little man's true name is... That I have failed you all.
Scott
Plymouth, Minnesota
U.S.A.
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