Open season

The other day (probably Wednesday, October 19, 2011) I missed a phonecall from “Felicia,” supposedly representing MVP, my healthcare insurance, actually a Medicare-Advantage plan, which I joined years ago at the behest of my former employer, Regional Transit Service (RTS), when the health insurance I had vaporized.
Supposedly MVP was equal to what I had, which wasn’t a Medicare-Advantage plan.
—I’m 67, so Medicare is primary.
For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for RTS in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and its environs. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability.
Felicia left a message, so yesterday I called the 800-number she left me.
HMMMMNNNNNN......
I didn’t get Felicia when I asked for her. I didn’t even get the extension prompt I expected.
What I got sounded like a boiler-room; it didn’t sound like MVP.
And MVP never asks me to call.
They notify by mail.
I hung up.
Ah yes, it’s open-enrollment.
Which means open-season on Seniors like me.
People like Felicia trying to get us to change Medicare-Advantage plans.
So what I will do is e-mail MVP — I’m sure they have a “contact-us” — and say if they actually want me to call that 800-number (I’ll recite it, and actually it’s 866), I’ll do so. But I ain’t givin’ out my contract-number no matter what.
My 94-year-old neighbor, deceased a few years ago, had it right.
My hairdresser came out to give him a Mason award, and my neighbor wouldn’t even let him in the door.
“Get outta here with your silly award!
I don’t know you from the moon!
You ain’t givin’ me no award!
You’ll be stealin’ my TV set.
No Oprah or Dr. Phil.”

• I had a stroke from which I pretty much recovered.