Or at least that’s how I imagine things would have gone down yesterday had I followed my initial impulse to go to the mattresses against the receptionist in my doctor’s office.
Is there anything more annoying than a receptionist? And I’m not talking about just the receptionist in my doctor’s office. Nor only about receptionists who happen to work in doctors’ offices. No, I’m talking about ALL receptionists. ALL OF THEM. It’s like part of being a receptionists means having to have a natural ability to be an utter douchebee. And since I myself have been a receptionist…believe you me I should know.
Since I split my time between the city and our house in New Jersey I often have to drag a bag full of some one-of-a-kind personal crap with me every time I make the transition. (Which is not necessarily a bad thing as it means that if I ever do become a hobo as a result of quitting my job I will have had lots of practice living out of my bag and should be able to ease into my new role rather nicely.) Anyway, this shuttling back and forth typically results in my having forgotten something somewhere and while usually it’s something of little consequence this time I forgot some meds that I needed. (Mom, if you’re reading this nothing is wrong. No seriously, I’m fine. No, you DO NOT need to come over.)
That was on Tuesday. On Wednesday I called the doctor’s office at 9 a.m. only to be greeted by a recording that announced that the office is closed on Wednesdays and wouldn’t be open again until noon on Thursday and if I have an emergency to hang up and call 911.
WTF??? One, who is closed on Wednesdays? And two, my only options are to either feel like crap for two days or call New York City emergency dispatch in the hopes that they would police escort me to Duane Reade? So on Thursday at noon sharp I called and when no one answered (WTF!?!) left a voicemail explaining the situation and asking, very politely I might add, that they please call in a new prescription as soon as possible and then call me back to confirm that it has been done so that I could go pick it up.
At 12:05 the receptionist called me back letting me know that everything was taken care of and that I could go pick up my medication, is what should have happened but didn’t. By 2 p.m. I no longer felt like crap because I was now pissed off and that tends to make me feel better when I’m sick. I still needed to get my meds, however, because flying high off of feeling irritated and morally superior can only get you so far. (Which is a shame really because Manhattan would have like the lowest health care costs of any city anywhere ever.)
This time when I called I got the receptionists on the line:
Me (annoyed but optimistic): Hi, um..its me again. I called and left a message at noon about getting a prescription called in?
Recep (bored): Uh huh.
Me (no longer optimistic but with a smidge of hope left): So …what’s the status?”
Recep (still bored but now also dismissive): Your file is with the doctor.
Me (oh so this is how its going to be): I don’t know what that means. Care to break down the mystery for me?
Recep (recalculating but still douchee): It means that she will review it and get back to you before the end of the day.
Me (full on corporate “If I wanted your opinion I’d give it to you” mode): Unfortunately that’s not going to work. Let me explain why.
I had my meds half an hour later. I also had that warm and fuzzy feeling of knowing that when the time came for me to find another job I was going to be juuuust fine thank you very much.
Categories: Rants and Raves