Food for the body and soul

Very Bad Reception, Part 20
Music | Working | April 21, 2017
(I work at a market research firm. Part of my job involves calling the manufacturers of high-tech devices to interview them. Some of the companies I call are very large, and others are quite small family firms. Some of the smaller companies have local radio stations on instead of hold music. Usually these are country music stations with ads about farm equipment. One time though

Me: “Hello, this is [My Name] calling from [Company]. Could I be connected with [Project Manager], please?”

Receptionist: “Sure thing. Please hold.”

Me: “Okay.”

Hold Music: *really loud gangsta rap* “MY MONEY AND MY HOES!”

(I started laughing so hard I had to hang up and call back again.)

Very Bad Reception, Part 19
Bosses & Owners, Jerk, Lazy/Unhelpful, Office, Spouses & Partners, UK | Working | November 27, 2017
Receptionist: “Hello, [Business].”

Me: “Hi. Could I please speak to [Manager], please?”

Receptionist: *click*

(I phone again, thinking I was just disconnected by accident.)

Receptionist: “Hello, [Business].”

Me: “Hi, I think—”

Receptionist: *click*

(Knowing she actually cut me off this time, I phone back again.)

Receptionist: “Hello, [Business].”

Me: “Why do you keep cutting me off?!”

Receptionist: “Because this is a cold call, and I’m told to hang up on them.”

Me: “Actually, I’m [Manager]’s husband, and I’d like to speak to him.”

Receptionist: “Yeah, right!” *laughing* “I’ve met his wife.” *click*

(Having had enough, I decide to just drive down.)

Receptionist: *smiling brightly* “Hello, welcome to [Business]. How can I help you?”

Me: “I’d like to speak to [Manager].”

Receptionist: “What reason do you have to speak to him? Do you have an appointment?”

Me: “I’m his husband, and no.”

(She realises who I am and sneers.)

Receptionist: *sarcastically* “Really? You’re that desperate?”

(Coincidently, my husband happens to walk by.)

Husband: “[My Name]? What are you doing here?”

Receptionist: “You know this degenerate?” *smugly* “I was just about to have him removed.”

Husband: “What? Why? He’s my husband!”

(The receptionist blushes and we stand in awkward silence for a few seconds.)

Me: *to the receptionist* “You want to explain?”

(The receptionist stammered through her explanation, with me inserting her claim that he had a wife after she neglected to mention it. My husband actually found it hilarious. She isn’t allowed near the phones anymore, though.)

Very Bad Reception, Part 18
Medical Office | Working | December 14, 2016
(I’m not the best at keeping track of things on the calendar. I realize that I have not booked an appointment to get my daughter’s follow up vaccines, so I call one morning.)

Me: “Hi, my daughter needs to get her booster shots. I’m afraid I’ve put this off by two months.”

Receptionist: “No problem. You can bring her in this morning.”

Me: “Oh! Perfect! Thanks! We’ll be in soon.”

(She takes my daughter’s name and info. I hung up and began to gather what we’d need for our time out of the house. Just as I reach the front door with diaper bag, book, and baby, the phone rings.)

Me: “Hello?”

Receptionist: “Hi. This is [Receptionist] from [Doctor’s Office].”

Me: “Yes?”

Receptionist: “I’m afraid your daughter won’t be able to get her booster shots on a walk-in basis today as she is two months past schedule.”

Me: “Oh, yes, I know we’re late. What should I do then?”

Receptionist: “You’ll have to call for an appointment.”

Me: “Can I make the appointment now?”

Receptionist: “No. You’ll have to call to make an appointment.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I hang up, look up the number (this was before caller ID), and call the doctor’s office.)

Receptionist: *same voice as before* “Hello, [Doctor’s Office]. [Receptionist] speaking. How can I help you?”

Me: “Yeah, I’m calling to make an appointment for my daughter to get her booster shots.”

Receptionist: “Oh, you don’t need to call for that. She can get them as a walk in.”

Me: “No, I’ve put it off too long. I was told we’ll need an appointment.”

Receptionist: “No, you can just walk in.”

Me: “I was told by you that we’d need an appointment.”

Receptionist: “No, you can just walk in.”

Me: “You called me not three minutes ago saying we’d need an appointment.”

Receptionist: “No, you can just walk in.”

Me: “Okay, instead, I’ll be picking up my daughter’s medical records. We’ll be changing doctors. How soon can I get those?”

Receptionist: “Changing doctors? Why?”

Me: “Just please get the records together. I’ll pick them up in an hour.”

(We did change doctors. Sad, because I liked that one. But dealing with the receptionist was more than I could take.)

All Doctors To Procreation Stations!
Doctor/Physician, England, Jerk, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | August 2, 2018
(I’ve been having stabbing pains in my abdomen and eventually go, by myself, to the doctor surgery. I am also a “Miss,” as in, not married.)

Doctor: “I see you have PCOS. This pain could just be that.”

Me: “I know there’s pain related to that, but it’s not in the right places and does not feel the same.”

Doctor: “Okay.”

(He’s reading my notes, which surprises me, as other doctors at this surgery don’t.)

Doctor: “You know, it’s not as bad as you may think. There’s a lot we can do now to make sure you can have children now.” *goes on a really long spiel about getting pregnant and having kids, etc.* “Do you want me to arrange an appointment to discuss it with [Doctor]? Or would you like to discuss it with your partner first?”

Me: *thoroughly bewildered* “Um… No, thanks.”

Doctor: “You should talk to your partner about it. He might want kids whilst you’re both young.”

(He went on about PCOS more and having kids, before going back to the reason I was there in the first place. I get making sure I knew that there were options for kids in the future, but I don’t have a partner, and don’t want kids –which he didn’t check before going on about it — and that wasn’t the reason why I was there.)

You’ll Stress-Knit A Whole Outfit At This Point
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Massachusetts, Medical Office, Psychiatrist, USA | Healthy | August 1, 2018
(I’m waiting to see my psychiatrist for a medication check-up. This office schedules meds appointments in fifteen-minute blocks; they’re a quick in-and-out to make sure the meds are working before the prescription is refilled. I arrive five minutes before my appointment and am told I’m seeing a new doctor. I’m a little annoyed that they didn’t tell me this when the appointment was being set up — my father works in the mental health field and I’m uncomfortable being seen by his coworkers — but whatever; maybe my regular doctor is out sick. So, I go to the waiting room. And wait. And wait. At twenty minutes past my appointment time — so, five minutes after it is supposed to be over — I hear the receptionists chatting. They say something about the new doctor having computer problems. Okay, stuff happens. Forty minutes past my appointment time, the person who is waiting before me gets into a shouting match with the receptionists about how late things are running. I’m frustrated too, but an extra person yelling won’t change anything, and I have plenty of time, so I keep waiting. Finally, fifty minutes after my scheduled time, a harried-looking man calls my name and introduces himself as the doctor. I’m expecting him to apologize for the delay, or offer an explanation, or anything. Nope. He doesn’t say a word until we get to his office. Now my appointment starts in earnest.)

Doctor: “So, do think you’re depressed?”

Me: *pause* “This appointment is literally to treat my diagnosed depression, so, um, yeah.”

(He doesn’t respond at all to this. He doesn’t even look at me. He has a walking desk, so he’s power-walking in place while he types on his computer. And he keeps typing. For almost ten minutes. I almost stand up and walk out. But I’ve already been here forever, I don’t want to have to do this all again, and I need my meds refilled. So, I take out my knitting and work on that for a bit.)

Doctor: “Do you want to keep taking [Medication #1 ] and [Medication #2]?”

Me: “Yes, please.”

(He types for a few more minutes.)

Doctor: “I’ve sent in the prescriptions for those. I’ll see you again in five months.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(I get up to leave.)

Doctor: “Wow! You’re so fast at knitting! What are you making?”

Me: “A sweater. Bye.”

(I was at that office for over an hour, but in the appointment for less than fifteen minutes. He said almost nothing to me, and half of what he did say was about knitting. And when I went to the pharmacy, only one of the prescriptions had actually been sent over!)

No Spoonful Of Sugar Is Helping This Medicine Go Down
Bad Behavior, Florida, Jerk, Patients, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | July 31, 2018
(When you come to pick up a prescription, I have to make sure it’s going to the right person or I get written up and, if I get written up enough times, lose my job. This particular pharmacy asks that we verify the address on file, but if they don’t know it, I’ll usually take some other manner of verification if necessary. It’s late, and there’s an hour and a half left to go of a seven-hour day, and all I want to do is go home, so I admit I’m a bit tired. A guy comes up who couldn’t be more than 22, I’d guess, and I smile and go to the register, asking him who he’s picking up for.)

Guy: “My girlfriend.”

Me: “Okay. What’s her name?”

Guy: “[First Name].”

(I need a last name in particular to search, and unfortunately most of the younger crowd usually never give their last name unless prompted. I have no idea why.)

Me: “What’s her last name?”

Guy: “[Last Name].”

(I go over to get it, which doesn’t take long, and return.)

Me: “And what’s her address, please?”

(He gives me this look like I’ve told him that the sky is green or that he’s standing on his head.)

Guy: “I’ve picked up before and they’ve never, ever asked me for her address before.”

(Then he clearly hasn’t picked up for her before at this pharmacy, because we always ask for the address. I say it so often that even when I’m doing things that don’t require it, I sometimes end up saying the words. Sometimes I end up asking them their address before I ask their name, before I can stop myself.)

Me: “Um… We always ask for the address.”

Guy: “No one has ever asked me before!”

Me: “Well, sometimes if you don’t know it, we’ll try another way to verify. Do you know it?”

Guy: “No!”

Me: “Okay, what’s her date of birth?”

(That, he knows. He tells that to me and I’m assured that I have the right person. A new law was passed in July that on certain types and classes of medicines, I now have to ask for a form of ID and enter it into the computer. What he’s picking up falls into that class.)

Me: “I need to see your ID, please.”

Guy: “Why?”

Me: “It’s the law as of the first of July. I have to have an ID.”

Guy: “Does that mean I have to get hers from the car?”

Me: “No, I need yours, since you’re picking it up.”

Guy: “But… does that mean I have to get hers?”

Me: “Um… No. I need yours.”

Guy: “I don’t have mine.”

Me: “Then she has to come in and pick it up.”

Guy: “Why can’t I just go get hers and give it to you?”

(Now I can understand his hesitancy. There’s a big storm that has been going on all day, but neither weather nor annoying teenagers are going to make me break the law.)

Me: “Because it’s her license. Whatever license I have has to be for the person picking up. It’s the law.”

(We go back and forth about this for another minute, to the point that my pharmacist has to come over and back me up, telling him that we have to follow all rules and regulations, and if it’s her license, it has be her. He finally goes out to get her and comes back in. I think this is a wonderful opportunity to do my job right now that she’s here.)

Me: “What’s your address?”

Girl: *throws her ID on the counter* “On file.”

Me: *blink*

(I’ve never had a customer refuse to give their address. Sometimes they’ll pretend to give me a hard time or forget some of the numbers, but I’ve never had someone give me a smart a** remark about it being “on file,” because most have the intelligence to realize that there’s a reason I’m asking for it and it’s most certainly not to hear myself talk. I want to keep my job.)

Me: “I’m sorry; we ask that for verification. If you don’t know yo—”

Girl: *interrupts snottily* “I know my address. It’s [address].”

(She picked up her license from the counter and proceeded to throw it again. I decided I’d had enough of dealing with the twat that was clearly just too lazy to come in and sent her boyfriend in for her, since I could see no legitimate reason for her not to come in besides the rain. And part of me wanted a little bit of revenge for these people half my age giving me a hard time, so I took my time, every bit of it that I could, prolonging the transaction just because they were antsy. As they left, she shot me a glare, snatched up her prescription, and then went to the industrial scale nearby that people use to measure weight and proceeded to jump up and down on it once or twice before leaving.)

Suffering Bad Pet Owners
Bad Behavior, Maryland, Pets & Animals, USA, Vet | Healthy | July 30, 2018
(I work the front desk in a highly recommended vet hospital that has both appointments with doctors and a walk-in emergency service. Emergency visits are always a trip. A young man walks in, carrying his dachshund mix. He tells me that his dog is having respiratory distress, so I take her back to see the doctor first before getting his information. It turns out that the dog has been having breathing troubles for two days. The doctor is not impressed with that info and, with client approval, takes some x-rays to see what might be going on internally. It’s cancer, a lot of cancer in all of the places. The dog is not comfortable outside of oxygen, so the vet goes to talk to the owner to explain that euthanasia is the only humane option. By this point, the owner’s father has come to join him and has brought his own dog. He is handling the dog very roughly and occasionally whacks the dog lightly with the end of the leash when he thinks the dog is misbehaving.)

Father: “Vets just want to take your money! Don’t worry, [Dog], they’re not going to see you. This is where dogs come to die.”

(He is making other clients uncomfortable, so I warn the ER doctor as she goes in to speak with them. The client is understandably shocked and upset, but the father is whole other matter.)

Father: “We’re not ready to put her down yet. Can you give us meds to keep her comfortable for another week?”

Vet: “Sir, she isn’t comfortable at all outside of oxygen. It would be against medical advice to take her out of oxygen and take her home.”

Father: “I’ll take her out of oxygen if I want to! It’s not like she’s suffering!”

(The vet was literally so angry she had to leave the room because yes, this dog was suffering! The father continued to be resistant, but the client agreed that it was in her best interest to euthanize her immediately, and handled the rest of the visit like a rational adult.)

After Hours Is After You
Impossible Demands, Medical Office, Patients, Texas, USA | Healthy | July 29, 2018
(I work for a company that takes hospital calls and after-hours calls for doctor’s offices. The majority of our doctors DO NOT take certain type calls after office hours, and only specific doctors can be called. Some patients refuse to acknowledge that and only make themselves look the bigger fool. It is late on a Friday.)

Me: “Hello! You’ve reached [Service]; how can I help you this evening?”

Caller: “I need [Doctor] paged.”

Me: “All right, ma’am, [Doctor] is not on call; however, the on-call doctor will be taking the page.”

Caller: “No. I don’t want the on-call doctor; I want [Doctor].”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I am unable to do that. It’s against policy to page doctors not on call.”

Caller: “I don’t care; I want [Doctor] paged now.”

Me: “All righty, ma’am, I’ll need this information.”

(I list off information needed and the caller interrupts.)

Caller: “Why do you need that information? You’re the doctor’s office; you should be able to look at the computer.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not the doctor’s office. I’m [Service]; I handle after-hours calls at a separate location.”

Caller: *huffily gives half the info needed*

Me: “I also need the reason you need to page the after-hours doctor.”

Caller: “I need my birth-control refilled. I ran out today and I need more.”

Me: *trying not to let the aggravation seep into my tone* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m unable to page the doctor for this reason. Prescription refills are to be handled by the office on Monday when they open.”

Caller: “But this is an emergency!”

Me: “I apologize, but I am unable to send that page.”

Caller: “You’re the doctor’s office! You have to send it to the doctor! What am I supposed to do until then? Not have sex?”

Me: *just over her attitude* “Ma’am, the doctor’s policy is that prescription refills are to be handled by the office on Monday.”

Caller: *rains down a multitude of expletives before threatening to get me fired and hangs up*

(She STILL calls almost every other month with the same issue. Friendly reminder: if you see you have two days for ANY prescription, please, please, please call it in before then and don’t wait until after hours to get a refill!)

Cholesterol-lol
Jerk, Medical Office, Nurses, Texas, USA | Healthy | July 28, 2018
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(I am a female and a teenager. I’m temporarily on a medication that has a lot of side effects, one of the main ones being high cholesterol. I have no prior history of high cholesterol, though. I’m at the doctor’s office with my mom specifically to check that the side effects of the medication are not getting out of hand.)

Nurse: “Okay, so, looking at your results, your cholesterol is higher than it should be.” *addressing my mom* “Mom, no more serving hamburgers, and no more fast food! All that salt, red meat, and fat is really bad for teenagers, even if that’s all they want to eat.”

Mom: “Actually, we never eat fast food, and we’ve been eating pescatarian for the past few months.”

Me: “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve gone to a fast food restaurant in years.”

(The nurse looks a little flustered at this point.)

Nurse: “Well, I know how teenagers are in the summer, so try to do some walking, at least! No more laying around on the couch all day!”

Me: “I’ve actually been swimming a mile every day, and I am working as a lifeguard.”

(The nurse is starting to look annoyed, like she doesn’t believe us.)

Nurse: “Right… Well, you need to fix this, or we’re going to have to put you on medication, and you’re too young to be on cholesterol medication.”

(My mother is getting annoyed and defensive now.)

Mom: “She’s on [Medication]; that’s the whole reason we’re here! Isn’t high cholesterol one of the side effects of the medicine?”

Nurse: *glaring at my mom* “Well… Sometimes.”

Mom: “Don’t you think that might be the reason she has high cholesterol, then?”

(The nurse just walked out at that point, and we didn’t see her the rest of the visit. We mentioned it to the doctor later, but she just said, “Well, your cholesterol is kind of high.” Luckily, once I got off the medication a few months later, my cholesterol dropped back down. But seriously, at least ask questions before making patronizing assumptions about someone’s diet and exercise.)

A Crazy Lack Of Competence
Bad Behavior, Boston, Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Massachusetts, Nurses, USA | Healthy | July 27, 2018
(I’m Bipolar I and not medicated. We’ve tried a few different combinations of drugs for me, but unfortunately I either have side effects or it simply doesn’t help anything. While therapy has been helpful, it’s not perfect; I still need the occasional trip to a psychiatric hospital. For this particular incident, I am sent to a completely different hospital, which I later learn is more adequately equipped to handle patients seeking drug rehab. However, even that seems to be inaccurate, as I learn during my three-and-a-half day visit. On day one, a patient and the head of the wing are talking in a common area

Patient #1 : “When do you think I can go home?”

Doctor #1 : “Sunday. Your insurance lets us hold you another week.”

(For a little context, during a previous group session I had with [Patient #1 ], he mentioned he’s been here almost two weeks and the head of the group commented on how much progress he’s made. As my stay continues, it isn’t uncommon to overhear the nurses gossiping about how they can’t believe the doctors still won’t discharge [Patient #1 ]. Day two: one of the other patients is a new mother with apparently no thought filter. As a result, she frequently talks about how she has to pump if the subject even remotely drifts towards family or children. One of the other patients finally gets fed up with it and a fight nearly breaks out. Unlike the mother, the other patient is allowed to leave the wing to go have lunch in the cafeteria.)

Doctor #2 : “Okay, [Patient #3 ], you just lost your cafeteria privilege for today.”

Me: “But doesn’t [Patient #2 ] have to stay up here, too?”

Doctor #2 : “Of course.”

Me: “So, you’re going to lock them in the wing together when most of the staff is down in the cafeteria?”

Patient #1 : “Besides, isn’t [Patient #3 ] getting discharged tomorrow?”

(After enough of us band together, the doctors finally agree the best thing they can do for both patients is to separate them. Also of note, a fourth patient is discharged at the end of day two, with a certain nurse helping her gather her things. On day three, though I’ve only had three or four sessions with her, I bid [Patient #3 ] farewell as she is gathering her things from the storage locker with the same nurse who assisted yesterday’s discharge. Just as I go to leave

Patient #3 : “Where’s my backpack?”

Nurse #1 : “Your what?”

Patient #3 : “My backpack. I came in with a pink backpack from [Brand]. Where is it?”

Nurse #1 : “We only had one like that. It was [Patient #4]’s, wasn’t it?”

Patient #3 : “Wha?!”

Nurse #1 : “She said that bag was hers. We gave it to her when she left last night.”

Patient #3 : “YOU GAVE HER MY BACKPACK?!”

Nurse #1 : “Sorry. We’ll call the police and report the theft.”

Patient 3: “WHAT THE F***’S THAT GOING TO DO? SHE’S BEEN GONE A DAY ALREADY! WHY DIDN’T ANY OF YOU NOTICE THE BAG WASN’T LABELLED FOR HER?” *begins crying*

Nurse #1 : “Calm down! It’s just a backpack!”

Patient #3 : “THAT BACKPACK HAD MY WALLET IN IT! WITH MY LICENSE AND SOCIAL SECURITY CARD! YOU LET HER STEAL MY IDENTITY!”

Nurse #1 : “We can replace those things!”

Patient #3 : “IT HAD THE ONLY PICTURE I HAVE OF ME WITH MY FATHER! YOU CAN’T REPLACE THAT! HE DIED AFTER I WAS BORN!”

Me: “Get the f****** police already, you dips***!”

(I didn’t know what else to do. The police do show up, though I have no idea how this story ends or if anything was done about [Nurse #1 ]. On day four — my release day — I’m sitting in the common area playing cards, waiting for my girlfriend to show up and drive me home. Needing a fourth for Hearts, one of the nurses agrees to join us.)

Nurse #2 : “[My Name], you sure know how to pick ’em. Of all the weeks you could’ve shown up!”

Me: “I’m amazed, too.”

Nurse #2 : “Yeah, but this ain’t even the worst of it. One patient last year always ran his mouth. ‘I’m in for bestiality!’ ‘I’m a member of the local KKK and they think this’ll cure me!’ and on and on. All cause he didn’t want to admit he tried to kill himself after his girlfriend broke up with him.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Nurse #2 : “Yeah, he just kept making excuses to justify the cuts on his arms.”

Me: “You can’t tell us that! His medical records are still privileged!”

(I’ve never been back. I haven’t looked it up yet, because I’m truly frightened that it might still be open.)

Might Actually Be Worth Getting Whooping Cough, Instead
Dublin, Ireland, Jerk, Medical Office, Reception | Healthy | July 27, 2018
(I’m midway through my pregnancy and have been putting off getting the whooping cough vaccine, so I call my doctor to schedule an appointment.)

Me: “Hi. I was wondering if I could book an appointment for the whooping cough vaccination?”

Receptionist: “What’s your name and date of birth?”

Me: “That’s [My Name] and [date].”

Receptionist: “It says here you’re 22 weeks.”

Me: “Yep.”

Receptionist: “Then, no, you can’t have an appointment.”

Me: “Um, right. Is there any reason why not?”

Receptionist: “The vaccine is only available from 26 weeks.”

Me: “Oh, right. I thought [Doctor] said I could get it from 16 weeks. I must have misheard. It’s okay, though, I can wait another four weeks.”

Receptionist: “Let me check with the doctor. Hold the line.”

(Pause.)

Receptionist: *sarcastically* “Well, I guess the doctor just knows more than me, huh? Clearly I’m just a receptionist, so I wouldn’t know anything. Apparently you can get it from 16 weeks.”

Me: “So, can I book an appointment?”

Receptionist: “At 11 on Monday.”

Me: “That’s perfect. Thank you.”

Receptionist: “The vaccine isn’t free, you know.”

(Most health care is free while pregnant in Ireland, but things like vaccines aren’t.)

Me: “Yep, that’s fine. I have no issue paying.”

Receptionist: “Good, because you have to pay. You’re not getting it free.”

Me: “I know.”

Receptionist: “Because it’s not free. You have to pay.”

Me: *Pause* “Is there anything else you need from me?”

Receptionist: “No, but when you come in for the appointment you have to pay.”

Me: “Okay, bye now.”

Ugh… Mondays
Germany, Health & Body, Ignoring & Inattentive, Patients, Wordplay | Healthy | July 27, 2018
(I work as a speech therapist. While I mostly work with children, I have a handful of adult patients with brain damage. As most of them aren’t able to walk, I visit them at home. All of the patients have fixed appointments once or twice a week. After some recent changes, I end up with an awkward schedule — driving from one end of the town to the other, back and forth — that makes me lose about two hours a week due to driving. I plan to coordinate this better and ask all of my patients if they are okay with different times and/or dates. It works well with everyone at first. I talk to one of my patients, a senior citizen, whom I visit every Monday and Wednesday.)

Me: “I plan to change my weekly schedule. Would it be okay if we moved Monday’s sitting from 11:00 to 13:50?”

Patient: “Well, the physical therapist is there until 13:45, so it should be fine.”

(On the next Monday, I arrive at 13:55. The physical therapist is still with her.)

Me: “Oh, am I early? I am sorry. I thought you two would be done by now”

Physical Therapist: “Oh, no, we still have 15 minutes left. We always have until 14:10.”

Me: “I’m sorry; I didn’t know that. [Patient], we need to reschedule our Monday’s appointment.”

Patient: “Huh? Why? I thought it would be only once. I figured we could cut the therapy a bit shorter today and go back to normal next week.”

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t do that, as I already gave that time to another patient. I am so sorry that I didn’t make it clear that the change would be permanent. My schedule is packed, but what about Tuesday, 11 o’clock instead of Monday?”

Patient: “I am at the daycare on Tuesdays and Fridays”

Me: “That isn’t a problem for me. We have lots of patients in day care. I could visit you there, if that’s okay with you?”

Patient: “Yes, let’s do this.”

Me: “Okay, so now, instead of Monday, I will visit on Tuesdays every week.”

(With everything being clear, we start practicing. On Wednesday I visit her as always, reminding her of our new permanent appointment once again. The next Tuesday, I drive to the day care facility to find her completely surprised, but not by the fact that I showed up there today.)

Patient: “Where were you yesterday?”

Me: “We’ve moved the appointment from Monday to Tuesday. That’s why I’m here today.”

Patient: “Yes, we talked about you coming here on Tuesday, but I didn’t know that meant Monday would be cancelled.”

Me: “We have to have therapy twice a week, so instead of Monday and Wednesday, we now do Tuesday and Wednesday.”

Patient: “Ah, I see.”

(We go on normally. Everything works fine for two weeks, until I get stuck in traffic one Tuesday morning and don’t make it to her. I call her to let her know. The next day, I visit as usual.)

Patient: “Where were you on Monday? I thought you’d be here on Monday.”

(I start explaining again why I can’t come in on Mondays and how we moved it to Tuesday.)

Patient: “But I thought that would be only once. I didn’t know you wanted to come to the day care every week. Every time you come, I miss out on the games and quizzes we do there.”

Me: “I am sorry, but that’s why I asked you if it’s okay before I actually changed the plan. I don’t have many options left right now.”

(I feel bad for her, as I obviously didn’t explain it to her properly, so I explain it again and make extra sure she understood what happened. Finally, I offer to sacrifice one of my lunch breaks to make room for her.)

Me: “The only open appointment would be Thursday at 11:30.”

Patient: “No, that’s not possible, either. Can’t we do Monday, 11:00?”

Me: “As I already explained, I am on a huge tour and can’t be back before 13:30, which won’t work because of the physical therapy. Is there something else you do on Thursdays?”

Patient: “No, it’s just so inconvenient. Why can’t we do Monday?”

Me: “Because I asked you if we could change the time and date. If you had said no, I wouldn’t have changed anything. But I did, and your old appointment is no longer available. What would be a more convenient time for you?”

(Surprisingly, Monday at 11 was still the only time she was willing to agree, so I had to re-reschedule about ten patients, and now I’m back to my old awkward plan.)

A Taste For Bad Taste
Doctor/Physician, Home, Malaysia, Silly | Healthy | July 26, 2018
(My family is friends with another family whose dad is an obstetrician/gynaecologist and also a huge joker. In our part of the world, there are sometimes weird pseudo-scientific food fads, including products containing colostrum which is the special milk that comes out just after a mother mammal gives birth — even though cow colostrum isn’t really going to help you unless you’re a calf. At a party, someone shows up with some of these “health” products

Friend: “Look, I brought these colostrum biscuits.”

Obstetrician: *takes one and munches on it* “Hmm, doesn’t taste like colostrum.”

That Explains The White Gloves
Detroit, Hospital, Michigan, Patients, Silly, USA | Healthy | July 26, 2018
(I am the strange one in this story. I have just woken up after a colonoscopy and my mind is still a bit fuzzy, but I still don’t know what drove me to do this.)

Doctor: “How do you feel?”

Me: “Are you Mickey Mouse?”

Doctor: “No, I’m not.”

Me: “You’re lying. Hi, Mickey!”

(I feel more awake and realize what I just said.)

Me: “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

Doctor: “That’s okay. That’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard today.”

The Rest Were Trying In Vein
Australia, Hospital, New South Wales, Patients, Sydney | Healthy | July 25, 2018
(My baby was born with a congenital heart disease and required many cannulas and blood draws in the first four weeks of her life. Nurses would try, and then call upon doctors — neonatologists and consultants — and everyone struggled. They would all talk about how small her veins were and how hard it was when she squirmed and cried as they stuck her over and over. The worst part was, when she had a cannula finally inserted, she’d often rip it out within the next couple of hours. After three open-heart surgeries, her last lots of blood are being taken to give us the all-clear to go home.)

Me: “Just be aware, everyone else who has taken blood has had a lot of trouble.”

Young Phlebotomist: *draws blood efficiently and quickly, first time* “All done.”

Me: “Oh, wow! Everyone else has had such trouble; they keep saying she’s got such small veins.”

Young Phlebotomist: “Of course she has small veins. She’s a baby!”

As If Having Cancer Isn’t Already Bad Enough
Canada, Copy Shop, Jerk, Ontario | Healthy | July 25, 2018
(We have universal health care in Canada, and the card in Ontario is called an OHIP card, although OHIP does not cover everything. I am booking in a copy order when the customer notices my silicone bracelet which has, “[Friend] beats cancer,” on it.)

Customer: “That’s not a cure for cancer.”

Me: “Um, no, that’s my friend’s nickname. She’s just selling these bracelets to help support her cancer, since she has to take time off work and stuff. It’s her second time with it.”

Customer: “She must not have applied for sick leave, then!”

Me: “Um, of course she did. You don’t get your full pay on sick leave.”

Customer: “Nope, only 50%.”

Me: “Right. Hence the bracelets.”

(I try to go back to booking in her order.)

Customer: “There are lots of things she can apply for, you know. Tell her to look stuff up and do her research! She’s not trying hard enough!”

Me: “Well, I’m not one to tell her what to do about her cancer, but I will support her this way, since that’s what she’s doing. Plus, she might have to get pills this time and pay for those.”

Customer: “No, that should be free.”

Me: “Um, no, she was under the impression these drugs weren’t covered by OHIP. I think it’s just because it’s not as serious as it was the first time she had it, so she is just supposed to be getting them from the pharmacy.”

Customer: “Oh, no, I never said it would be covered by OHIP. Drugs are rarely covered by OHIP unless it’s going to save your life—” *which I beg to differ* “—but her work benefits should cover them!”

Me: “Not all of it.”

Customer: “Well, it should cover most of it!”

Me: *irritated by this point* “It depends on the jobs people have and what kind of coverage it provides.”

Customer: “Well, I know all about it! Tell her to do some research!”

(Ugh, I wanted to smack her! I didn’t, of course!)

Hope You Get Good Reception
Employees, Jerk, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, Reception, UK | Healthy | July 24, 2018
(My GP surgery usually has a two- to three-week wait for non-urgent appointments, but also has a limited number of on-the-day appointments available on a first-come-first-served basis. As these go very quickly, most people phone as soon as the surgery opens, so the phone lines are usually busy. I live close to the surgery, so I walk in just as it opens. One receptionist is on the phone, the other calls me forward.)

Me: “Hi, can I make an appointment today to see a doctor?”

Receptionist: “You have to phone for an on-the-day appointment.”

Me: “I… have to call? I can’t make one right here?”

Receptionist: “No, you have to phone.”

Me: “Why can’t I make one now?”

Receptionist: *glaring* “You have to phone. You can’t just walk in and book it.”

Me: “What’s the difference?”

Receptionist: “You have to phone.”

Me: “Okaaaay…”

(I step literally two steps away from the desk, pull out my mobile, and dial the surgery. Nobody else is waiting, so the receptionist is now free to answer the phones. Glaring at me the entire time, she answers the phone… to me.)

Receptionist: “[Surgery], how can I help?”

Me: “I’d like to make an appointment today, please.”

(The other receptionist had finished her call at this point, and just sat there open-mouthed looking backwards and forwards between us as I made an appointment, over the phone, with the receptionist sitting right in front of me.)

Read The Bloody Chart
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, New York, USA | Healthy | July 24, 2018
(I start menstruating at 12 years old, but my periods never become regular over time like they are supposed to. Sometimes they last three days, sometimes six or seven. Sometimes I wait three weeks between periods, sometimes five or six weeks. For a while, it doesn’t bother me, but when I am 22, I decide to go to a gynecologist and ask if there is anything to worry about. I should also note that I look very young and am often mistaken for a teenager. At the doctor’s office, I am taken to an exam room where the nurse takes my history and tells me the doctor will be there in a few minutes.)

Doctor: *does not look at my chart* “I hear you’re concerned that your period isn’t regular yet.”

Me: “That’s right; it’s always a surprise. I just want to make sure it’s nothing I should be worried about.”

Doctor: *condescendingly* “Well, it’s not uncommon for periods to be irregular after they start. It can take a few years for your period to become regular.”

Me: *realizing she thinks I’m a teenager* “Ten? Is ten enough years? Because it’s been ten years.”

(The doctor goes white, quickly grabs my chart, and realizes I’m older than she assumed.)

Doctor: “Oh! It definitely should be regular by now; let’s run some blood work.”

Shouldn’t Have Followed The White Rabbit
Bad Behavior, Health & Body, Non-Dialogue, Pet Store, Pets & Animals, USA, Wisconsin | Healthy | July 23, 2018
I work for a very small, in-state pet store chain. All of us employees are major animal lovers and have pet experience of some kind or another; it’s pretty much a requirement if you want to get a job there. We offer, among other things, nail clippings. Most of the animals we see come in are obviously loved and well-cared for, especially if their owners are regulars. However, that’s not always the case.

A customer came in with a year-old male rabbit of an unidentified breed for a nail clipping. Rabbits don’t come in too often, but things seem fairly normal. Things started to get weird — in hindsight, anyway — when the customer asked us for any vets in the area that took rabbits. Apparently, the rabbit hadn’t been eating for three months — later corrected to three weeks — and she felt that something was wrong. Oh, boy, she had no idea.

According to my coworker who clipped the rabbit, he yawned during the clipping, revealing some very overgrown incisors. How overgrown, you may ask? So overgrown that the lower teeth were starting to poke into the poor bunny’s nostrils. Worse, he had matted fur on his butt, consistent with sitting in a cage for long periods of time. Even worse than that, the nails themselves turned out to be nearly an inch long. And considering he hadn’t been eating for so long, it was a wonder that he was still alive and not emaciated. The rabbit was also a total sweetheart, further adding to the heartbreak.

To make matters worse, the customer left the store for nearly an hour. We practically ceased all operations looking for her and figuring out what to do with the rabbit, since, as time ticked by, we gave up hope of her ever coming back for it. Thankfully, the customer did come back; it turned out she just stopped by the dollar store nearby. Once we told her the condition of her rabbit, she was genuinely shocked, especially when we showed her his teeth. It turns out that not only was she not getting his teeth trimmed, but she only gave him paper towel tubes to chew on, because, “That’s what Google said,” hence the overgrown lower incisors. And yet she wondered why he wasn’t eating!

We finally managed to give her the address of the nearest 24-hour emergency vet clinic to get the rabbit some fluids and grind down his teeth. We also gave her tips on how to get rid of the mats safely and recommended getting the rabbit out of the cage more often. She thanked us deeply, paid for the clipping, and left with the rabbit in tow, hopefully to the vet. I sincerely hope the owner learned from this experience and will start taking better care of the sweet little thing, but at the same time just thinking about it still pisses me off. No matter how understanding the lady was, I will never get over how much she neglected that poor little rabbit.

Moral of the story? Some people really should not own pets, and those who do should do their research before getting it.

Pet Owners Are Barking Mad
Bar, Health & Body, Ignoring & Inattentive, Pets & Animals, UK, Weather | Healthy | July 23, 2018
CONTENT WARNING: Animal Abuse

(The UK has been struggling with a heatwave. We’ve just finished a lunch rush and things are a little quieter. We just cleaning up the bar area while people finish up their food when my coworker and I hear the most awful, rasping panting from a dog entering the door. An older couple enter with their small dog, who is barely able to to walk in a straight line, and sit themselves down at a table. The woman approaches us.)

Woman: “Hi, are you still serving food?

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Would you like some water for your dog before you order? We want to make all of our guests to be comfortable.”

(I ask this because I’m increasingly concerned for the dog’s wellbeing — its panting is sounding significantly worse and it is drooling excessively for a small dog — but I don’t want to sound too nosey.)

Woman: “Oh, no, he’s fine. He’s just tired from our walk up [Popular Tourist Cliff Walk about 2.5 miles long]. We have some water, anyway.”

Me: “No problem, ma’am.”

(I take her order and serve their drinks quickly, watching the dog drink almost half a litre of water rapidly with no change in comfort. Just as I go to check on another table, the dog gets briefly to its feet to vomit violently, only to collapse into the vomit. I quickly try to keep my other customers, including children, calm while the dog’s owners seem oblivious to the severity of its condition, which is now clearly heatstroke.)

Woman: “Oh, dear, someone’s drank too quickly and is tired!” *to my coworker and myself* “Will you be dears and help us clean up?”

(My coworker goes to clean up the vomit while I swiftly go into the kitchen to explain the situation to my boss, who is also the chef.)

Me: “Hey, [Boss], I think we have a dog with heatstroke out there. Is there anything we can do? I’m willing to call [Friend of mine who is a veterinary nurse], if you’d like.”

Boss: “There’s not much we can do, [My Name]; it’s not our dog. Offer to call [Vet a few miles up the road] for them and try to get them to go there; otherwise, you just have to continue as normal. I’m sorry.”

(I go back out and do as I’ve been told to do, offering help as much as I can.)

Woman: “I’m sure he’s fine. We’ll consider it if he doesn’t improve by the time our food comes out.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am. No problem.”

(I try to continue with my other tasks while still watching for any change in the dog. A few minutes later, the food is ready and I take it out to them. The dog is still severely panting, and the owners have now taken the water away to stop him from vomiting it up again. I have to bite my tongue and say nothing, cleaning dirty glasses behind the bar so I can listen to them talking and be ready to do something if the dog ends up going into shock or a seizure.)

Woman: *to a concerned customer* “Oh, he didn’t make it to the top of [Cliff Walk], but luckily we had a deck chair with us and we used that as a stretcher to carry him there! It was beautiful up there, you know? The sun and the heat was warming up all of our old bones wonderfully! There weren’t any other dogs, either, so we had most of the cliff to ourselves! It really was fantastic.”

(The couple left with their dog after an agonisingly long time eating their food, with all of us encouraging them to go to the vet again before they left. Several hours later when my shift ended, I went to the vets to pick up some wormers for my own pets only to find out the couple hadn’t come in. It wasn’t until the next morning my friend texted me to let me know they ended up coming in during the night. They had found the dog unresponsive in its own vomit again shortly after coming back to their caravan after visiting friends. The poor little thing died of heatstroke less than an hour later. I can’t help wishing I could have done more, and that the owners had not been so stupid as to take their dog for a walk in that heat.)