Overthunk

Thank you, know it all lady who used to write printer drivers for Windows 95 (according to her statement to the customer ahead of me in line) at the second ubiquitous, yet feckless branch of a drive-thru veterinary office I attempted to go to today.  Your simple assessment of the situation: peering at my dog's bothersome ass and stating "this will take more time than we have" saved me from returning to the closer outpost of the nonhelpful drive-thru vet branch office and unleashing a Basil Fawlty-caliber explosion of sarcasm and screeching on the bint who, on the phone, and then in person, when I shambled forward with a clearly very nervous animal in my arms, demanded "proof of rabies," which I could not produce. Let's lay aside the fact that what you were actually demanding, in correct English, was a demonstrable case of frothy mouth and erratic possible lycanthropy. What you meant was, did I have a metal tag proving the dog had been inoculated again