92
“It was four point three seconds to be exact.”
Christina hugged Sergio. “Thank you so much,” she said and wheeled herself out of the
office.
Sergio followed her. “Wait.”
She turned around to face him. “Yes.”
“Are you Christina Soleil Dawson?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Let me write you a prescription for a power chair. Please come back into my office.” Christina and Sergio went back in. He helped her get in and then closed the door behind
him, sat down on his chair once again, and pulled out a prescription pad from one of the drawers of the computer desk.
Christina asked, “Who is going to pay for the power chair?”
With the phone headset in his ear and the fax machine faxing photos that appeared to be out of nowhere, Sergio answered, “Your insurance is.”
She gasped.
“I am going to tell them a few things, send them a few documents, and by the end of the day, your claim for a new power chair should be processing, and five days from today, you‘ll have a brand-new power chair delivered to your home.”
An operator came on the line. “Sunset Insurance Corporation, this is Samuel. How may I help you?”
“I would like to report fraud committed against you and I would like to place a claim for a new power chair for Ms. Christina Dawson.”
While he typed the information given on the computer, Sam asked, “What‘s her date of
birth?”
“It is July 16, 1983.”
A few seconds later, Sam said, “Her account was closed because…”
Sergio interrupted him. “Her account was closed because you were lied to. You were given false proof that this woman wasn‘t handicapped, and I sent you proof just now that she is handicapped.”
Sam looked at the photos. Even a live video of Christina in Sergio‘s office appeared in his computer. Sergio got the camera to focus on Christina‘s face and Christina said, crying, “I am Christina Dawson, the real one. Please believe me. You can look me up on public records, put in my social-security number, and you‘ll see a live photo of me. Please…” Christina let her head down and cried.
The camera focused on Sergio again and Sergio said, “There you go, Sam. What more proof do you need?”
Sam was crying, too, but he was trying to hide it. Sniffling, he said, “I‘m sorry. I…” “It‘s ok, Sam,” Sergio replied. “There‘s nothing wrong with feeling compassion for
someone.”
“I will speak to my supervisors about reopening her account. I will show them all the proof that I have that we were deceived and then I will call you back, and we‘ll talk about that power chair, ok?”
“Thank you, Sam.”
“Have a good day, Dr. Snyder. I will call you back. I am going to speak with my supervisors right now.”