Not Always Receptive

| Georgia, USA | Working | January 17, 2013

(I am a teenager going with my mother at the optometrist’s office.)

Receptionist: “Yeah, what can I do for you?”

My Mom: “We have an appointment for 1:30 with [optometrist].”

Receptionist: “Name?”

My Mom: *gives our last name*

Receptionist: “Patient’s name?”

My Mom: *gestures to me* “This is Vanessa.”

Receptionist: *rudely* “I don’t need to know which one of you it is, just the first name. Take a seat!”

(We are a little taken aback, but take our seats. An hour passes before my mom gets up to inquire why it’s taking so long.)

My Mom: “Excuse me, we’ve been waiting an hour—”

Receptionist: “Not my problem.”

My Mom: “Um, when do you think we’ll be seen?”

Receptionist: *sighs dramatically* “Did you have an appointment?”

My Mom: “Yes, for 1:30.”

Receptionist: “Name?”

My Mom: *gives our last name again*

Receptionist: *looks at the computer* “Uh, yeah, we cancelled that. If you’re more than 15 minutes late we cancel you. Sorry.”

My Mom: “Are you kidding me? We were here at 1:15. The appointment was for 1:30. It’s 2:16 now.”

Receptionist: “Yeah, and you said your name was ‘Venesia.’ I don’t have you down for an appointment, so you’re seen as a walk-in.”

Me: “My name’s VANESSA.”

Receptionist: “Oh, Va-NESS-a. Well, not my fault I can’t understand that weird name! You’ll be seen as soon as the doctor can see you, m’kay?”

My Mom: “We’ve been waiting for an hour. We gave you our last name when we checked in; didn’t you see the name on the list?”

Receptionist: “Nope.”

My Mom: “Well, how much more of a wait will there be?”

Receptionist: “I don’t know. Not my problem.”

My Mom: “It is your problem because it’s your job to check us in! We were here on time; I expect her to be seen today!”

Receptionist: “Well, too bad, you’ll have to wait. Now either go sit down with your ugly four-eyed daughter or take your [racial slur] selves home and make another appointment!”

My Mom: “We won’t bother with either, actually. We’re done with this office. You need an attitude check.”

Receptionist: “Fine. Whatever, b****.”

(We hurry out of there. We ended up having to change doctors, which is a shame because that optometrist was actually very good. We just couldn’t deal with that receptionist again.)

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