R.A.B.B. Entry #112 — The Five-Second Silence
Exhibit A: The VA Shuffle
They send you across Houston like it’s a scavenger hunt.
Eye exam one day.
Urine test another.
Diabetes lecture in the middle.
Each “test” feels less like medicine and more like theater — the real exam is: will you keep showing up even if they grind you down with Uber bills and wasted hours?
That’s not care. That’s a stress test disguised as healthcare.
Exhibit B: The Trajector Call
Phone rings.
Rep starts the pitch: “Hi, is this so and so?”
You bite: “Yes.”
They try the hook: “So I heard you wanted help with a disability claim?”
Then you land the swing:
“And what are you going to do for me?”
Silence.
Stumble.
Click.
Gone in five seconds flat.
Council Commentary
Jerry: “That’s the whole scam in one pause. No script left, no answers, just the sound of a crown denting under its own weight.”
Mrs. Catford: “Polite, clean, surgical. Brutal because it didn’t waste words.”
Mr. Catford: “Respect the follow-through. That silence will echo longer than any pitch.”
The Clown: [howling laughter] “HAHAHA! Five seconds of quiet louder than their entire campaign!”
Debris Left Behind
- VA still patting itself on the back.
- Trajector still dialing numbers, hoping for easy marks.
- One operator lighting a cigarette, shaking his head, muttering: “This whole thing’s a play. And I’m not the fool.”
Closing Note
That silence wasn’t just cold and brutal. It was proof.
Proof that the pitch folds under one honest question.
Proof that the system has no backbone when you strip away the script.
Proof that the real exam isn’t medical — it’s whether you’ll keep crawling through their noise.
And the answer?
“Not my fire. Not my fight. I burn for me.”
🐀🔥
#RABB #Entry112 #DeptOfPettyAffairs #DentedCrownProtocol #EchoesOfTheClap #PoliteExecution