Unfiltered Story #153782

, , | | Unfiltered | June 9, 2019

(I work as a receptionist at a private practice animal hospital. An elderly woman comes in; I recognize her as the mother of one of our clients.)

Me: Hello! How are you?

Her: *no response**hands me a plastic bag with a stool sample inside*

Me: … Would you like me to run a fecal parasite test for you?

Her: Yes. My cat has fleas, and I want to make sure he hasn’t gotten anything from them.

Me: Oh no! No problem. What was your last name again?

(She gives me her last name, but when I ask for her cat’s name, I can’t find him in the system.)

Her: I’ve never brought him here before.

Me: Oh, okay! That’s alright, we can still run the test. *I quickly create a new file for the cat and enter the charge for the fecal parasite test into the system.* Okay, so we should get the results back from the lab tomorrow, and we’ll give you a call as soon as they come in. Your total for today is going to come to $49.

Her: *slightly condescendingly* Oh, I forgot my wallet at home, sweetie. But I assure you, I’m good for it. I’ll come back in to pay it at a later date. *winks at me*

Me: Oh… Okay.

(Normally I wouldn’t let this slide without a manager’s approval, but a) I knew from past interactions that she was, indeed, good for it, and b) she walked out before I could consult with a manager.)

(A month passes. She never comes in to pay, nor does she call to make an over-the-phone payment. I send her a statement with a short letter attached, politely asking her to contact us to complete the transaction, and reminding her that she had left her wallet at home before. Several days later, I see her come in.)

Me: Hello! How are you?

Her: *no response*

Me: … What can I do for you today?

Her: *no response. She fishes out a credit card and hands it to me*

Me: … What was your last name?

Her: [Name].

Me: And your pet’s name?

Her: *stares at me as though scrutinizing the second head growing out of my ear*

Me: … What is your animal’s name?

Her: [Pet’s name].

Me: *I pull up her file in the system, suddenly remembers* Oh! Yes! Were you trying to make a payment on your account?

Her: It should be the only charge there.

Me: Oookay. *runs the card for the full amount*

Her: What can you tell me about Rat’s Lip?

Me: … I’m sorry?

Her: Rat’s Lip.

Me: … I… I’ve never heard of such a thing before.

Her: *looks at me as though she were talking to a mentally disabled child* It’s a rare condition that some cats can have. *she describes it to me, and explains that one of our doctors had diagnosed one of her cats with it a long time ago* I was wondering if you knew anything about it.

Me: Oh, no, actually I’ve never heard of it before.

Her: I just need some information about it.

Me: … I can… get the doctor, if you’d like.

Her: Eh, she’s probably busy. I just cant use the internet. I’m not one of those tech people.

Me: *noticing that the doctor’s patient has just stepped out of the exam room, and that the phone is ringing* … If… you give me just a moment, I’d be happy to find some information for you.

(I manage to put the call on hold, search for Rat’s Lip – which is actually called a “Rodent Ulcer”, apparently –  and print out the website’s information for her. Hoping she’ll leave soon, I smile pleasantly and hand it to her.)

Her: Thanks. My cat had this once. *walks out*

(The best part? I later relayed this story to the doctor. Even SHE had no idea what this condition was! How this lady expected me – someone with no in-depth veterinary training – to magically provide information about such a rare disease, I’ll never know.)

Unfiltered Story #127459

, , , | Unfiltered | November 16, 2018

This happened not long after I started working as an assistant at a veterinary office. One of our receptionists had come back with a dog’s leash and collar, and it was my turn to bring the dog up to the lobby from our kennels.

So, I walk into the lobby with this big dog trying to drag me, and a family with three kids immediately jump up and rush over, petting the dog and letting it lick the kids’ faces. The dog’s so excited I’m struggling to get enough slack to slip the leash off my wrist.

I’ll never forget what happened next. Just as I got the leash free and was about to hand the dog over, the mother of the group looked up at me and said, “So, what’s his name?”

The dog’s real owner was busy paying his bill at the reception desk and never saw any of that.