3:42 PM:The voicemail alert tells me that I have a message, and it reads “Podiatrist NYC” so I know it’s important. The foot doctor calleth!

4:19 PM:I finally break out of a day-long meeting and return messages, to the podiatrist, whose office tells me that my custom prescription orthotics have arrived. I am delighted. And apparently two steps closer to becoming a senior citizen, now that I have orthotics.

5:02 PM:Since I’m still tied up in meetings, I ask someone to do me a favor and pick up the orthotics. The podiatrist is reluctant, but they’re made from my foot molding, so how could things go wrong?

8:13 PM:I return home to my $500 orthotics (which are not covered by insurance, of course) and I feel like a child who celebrates Christmas, on Christmas. Foot pain should be gone in no time!

9:01 PM:Out to dinner that evening, with new orthotics, and I sense something is not right. Maybe I should have gone for fitting with podiatrist in the first place?

Next day:

8:32 AM:WTF? More pain today than in the last two months. Something is wrong

9:01 AM:My podiatrist works less than a ski instructor in the summertime. Need to wait another week to return to his office. Not happy.

9:02 AM:I feel like a Jewish kid on Christmas. It was all a big let-down. Time to wait another week.