There must be something about the profession that attracts slightly deranged minds. Somewhat like computer geeks happening to be typified so often by social introverts attracted to mechanical abstracts, allowing them to avoid human contact as much as possible. My personal observations over the years in seeking the professional services of optometrists, on the other hand, seem to point in the direction of self-obsession to a degree. People who are strangely egotistical, tending toward showmanship, self-promoting.

For years our family was well served by the professional optometry know-how of a tall, gawky-looking man who was kind and friendly but given to peculiar physical mannerisms that reminded one of the drama of being in the presence of a practitioner of the magical black arts. It was simply his way, likely a nervous reaction to something or other where a structured formula of excessively dramatic-appearing mechanical physical acts set him apart from most 'normal' people. As far as we were concerned this never impeded his professional competence.

More recently, I came in contact with another optometrist in whose office all new clients were asked to fill out a lengthy form. That seemed like fairly standard procedure, the first page consisting of basic individual identification. Succeeding pages of the questionnaire, however, were strictly commercial in nature, eliciting information on shopping habits, requesting permission to allow commercial interests to contact the form-filler with offers of 'special deals'. I handed in the top sheet, returned the others blank, and when the office administrator informed me frostily that I was expected to fill out the entire questionnaire I disabused her of the idea. My voice likely rose in indignation, and the optometrist herself appeared briefly from the back offices to ask what was happening. When she was informed that here was a new client refusing to complete the forms, she glared at me.

Later, through the course of the following eye examination, the hostility that exuded from this woman was thick enough for an ice-pix, despite my efforts to disarm her attitude. I felt convinced afterward that her enmity expressed toward me resulted in a prescription far too excessive for my needs, and never became accustomed to the use of the new eyeglasses, finding the lenses too strong for me.

She was replaced by an optometrist that my husband had gone to several times. And this man was another one of those peculiarities of nature; again, darkly gaunt in appearance with greasy, stringy too-long hair and a gruff manner, attempting to exude friendliness. His mode of dress was meant to make him look debonair, but the effect was disconcerting. His office suite was spectacularly decorated with elaborately framed mirrors, exotic paintings, peculiar but very attractive clocks, the coffee table and bookshelf in the waiting area heavy with fascinating picture books.

And one of his examining rooms boasted all the very latest in electronic dental diagnostic tools, more than comparable to those existing in hospital settings where the cream of the ophthalmologist-crop of specialists had access to the most advanced equipment on the market. This optometrist charged his patients for the use of this expensive equipment, which came free of charge if conducted in a hospital setting (Canada's universal health-care). And he was self-promoting to the point where he gave me personal notes to hand over to the renowned ophthalmologist-surgeon whom I was also at that time seeing. Who, on seeing the note's signature, grimaced, and discreetly placed it in his out-box.

I found myself dissatisfied with the last prescription and resulting progressive lenses I'd got several years back, since my peripheral vision is good and I rarely wear glasses when I'm out and about, confining their use primarily for reading. My intention was to eventually return for an evaluative examination resulting in a new prescription to fulfil my resolve to get only reading lenses this time around. I kept putting it off, but an out-of-the-blue call from this man's office inviting me to come in for a regular examination, had me make an appointment for the following week.

An hour prior to the appointment time a call came from the same receptionist at this optometrist's office to inform me that it was decided to close the office early that day (my appointment had been set for 1:30 pm). Because I had psyched myself up to finally get the examination through with, despite my reluctance to return to the services of this disagreeable man, I promptly set about looking for an alternative appointment. And was able to make a 4:00 pm appointment the very same day at a nearby optician enterprise which also employed a full-time optometrist.

There, I found the service I was looking for, in both departments, optometry and optical. The professionalism and humanity of both of those departments was evidenced in the persona of an all-female team of individuals of immigrant-stock to the country. The owner of the well-known optical chain was a self-promoter, too, it was abundantly clear, a flamboyant personality who framed and posted letters of congratulation for representing a successful immigrant class of entrepreneurs in the province, sent by government officials.

And other framed letters of appreciation and obsequious recognition were also on the walls from exotic sources where this founding optician-company's owner spent recreational time in his yacht on the blue waters of the Mediterranean, and where he deposited useful sums of charitable dollars to help educate and further the advances of those far less privileged abroad, than we are in Canada.

And the following day, quite early in the morning came a strange telephone call. An unfamiliar voice barked gruffly through the connection: "Is this Rita?" The thought quickly ran through my mind, who on Earth speaks like that? "Billy?" I asked tentatively, thinking it might be my prank-loving brother advising me he was planning a visit in the near future. No, that loudly grating voice responded, it was the optometrist that I had hesitated to return to. In a staccato-fired message to inform me a regrettable misunderstanding had taken place the day before when my scheduled appointment had been cancelled.

I took pleasure in immediately responding with the information I had seen another optometrist and everything was fine, just fine, thank you very much.