Move Your Car Or I Move Your Healthcare

Our doctor’s office only has a small car park. When that is full, you have to go up and down the narrow adjoining road hoping to find a space. Even though I’m early, by the time I find a space, I am already late.

Me: “Sorry I’m late. Some clown parked across both parent and child spaces. It took me ages to find one with enough space.”

Reception: “Good timing. I was about to give away your appointment.”

Me: “Busy again, then?”

Reception: “Yes, always is this time of year. I have a dozen people waiting for a cancellation.”

I sign in and the receptionist quietly asks me:

Reception: “What was the registration of the car you mentioned.”

Me: “Oh, I… err, don’t know, but it was a grey Ford, fairly big one.”

She types away.

Reception: “Could it have been a grey Ford [model], registration starting with L14?”

Me: “Yes, exactly that.”

Reception: “Yep, I thought so. Thank you.”

I sit down and wait. I wasn’t expecting what happened next:

Reception: “Excuse me, Mr. Smith?”

Mr. Smith: “What?”

Reception: “Can you move your car, please?”

Mr. Smith: “I’ve only got a check-up. I will only be five minutes!”

Reception: “We have asked you before about your parking. Please move your car.”

Mr. Smith: “…”

Reception: “You won’t get seen without moving your car.”

He reluctantly stomps out of the office. As I get called to go in to see the doctor, I have to say something.

Me: “That was amazing. Thank you.”

Reception: “Oh, that’s nothing, but if he’s not back in fifteen minutes, he will lose his time slot. Now that would be amazing!”

I had my appointment, and on my way out, I couldn’t see the grey Ford anywhere. I can only wonder what happened.