(This story happened a few decades ago, before different spellings became more common. My father only had a few names he was unsure of the spelling, one of those names being Elise (Elyse, Aleece, etc.).)

Customer: *finishing conversation* “And this is for Elise, [Last Name].”

My Dad: “All right, and how do you spell that?”

Customer: *huffing loudly* “The right way, of course!”

My Dad: “Well, to be sure I’ve got it right; can you spell it for me?”

Customer: “Argh! A-L-I-C-E, of course!” *hangs up*

Related:
This Spells Trouble

(I am five months pregnant with my daughter and go to monthly prenatal appointments, during which I always have to do a urine test to make sure I have no infections, etc. The office keeps paper cups and markers in each bathroom. Women label the cup and leave the urine sample in the bathroom to be taken away for testing. I have come in for an appointment mid-month because I’ve noticed some worrying symptoms. I call the nurse and describe them, and she makes me an appointment. The most important thing I have to do is a urine test, since she suspects I may have a moderately serious infection common during pregnancy. A few days later I get a call…)

Nurse: “Hello, is this [My Name]?”

Me: “Yes, it is!”

Nurse: “I just wanted to let you know that your pap smear results came back, and they are normal.”

Me: “That’s fantastic! Was my urine test also normal?”

Nurse: *sounding suddenly confused* “Oh… it doesn’t look like we took a urine test.”

(This annoys me a lot since that was the whole point of my visit.)

Me: “You didn’t take a urine test?”

Nurse: “No. Did you leave a sample?”

Me: “Yes, I did.”

Nurse: “Well, it looks like the test wasn’t run.”

Me: “So, your nurses walked into the bathroom, saw a cup of pee with my full name written on it, and didn’t realize that was a urine sample to be tested?”

Nurse: *pause* “We’ll get you in for another one, honey.”

Related:
Urine Trouble Now

(I work in a medical office which has an adjoining counseling office. We are owned by a large hospital group that includes dozens of doctors’ offices. One day someone from the counseling office calls and says she had a family emergency and asks if someone could cover the front desk for her for a few hours. Although I don’t typically work the front desk, I often cover others when needed. So, I go over. On this day there is a psychiatrist who comes to see patients there once a week, on loan from the behavioral health office (BHS). When I go to check in his first patient, I realize I don’t have access to his schedule. I call over to behavioral health to have someone check them in. He comes over to me:)

Doctor: “What is taking you so long?”

(I explain the situation and that I had found a workaround but it would take a few extra minutes.)

Doctor: “This can’t happen.”

Me: “I’m sorry, [Regular Worker] had an emergency. It’s a one time situation.”

Doctor: “This can’t happen.”

Me: “I’m sorry. I don’t have access to your schedule.”

Doctor: “This can’t happen.”

Me: “Well, although we share the same computer system, if you don’t regularly work at a particular office, you don’t have access.”

Doctor: “This can’t happen.”

(Now I’m getting pissed.)

Me: *somewhat sarcastically* “You know, you can check in your own patients?”

Doctor: “Well, someone could have at least given you a brief tutorial.”

(Now I’m fuming.)

Me: “Have you not heard a word I said? It’s not that I don’t know how. I have worked for this large hospital system for 20 years. I know what I’m doing. I DON’T HAVE ACCESS TO YOUR SCHEDULE!”

Doctor: “Why not?”

Me: “Because I don’t work at bloody BHS!”

Doctor: “This can’t happen.”

(My brother is eight years old. His third-grade teacher has decided that he probably has ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) and won’t take no for an answer, even though, since I’m five years older and DO have severe ADD, my mom has already had my brother tested. So Mom tells my psychiatrist what’s up and has him tested again.)

Psychiatrist: “All right, Mrs. [Mom], I’ve finished your son’s tests and I have my diagnosis.”

Mom: “And?”

Psychiatrist: “[Brother] does not have ADD. He’s just obnoxious… because he’s EIGHT. And anyone who can’t tell the difference doesn’t need to be teaching third grade.”

(My brother’s 24 now and we still tease him about having been officially “diagnosed” as obnoxious by a psychiatrist.)

(I’m in the doctor’s office, discussing my treatment.)

Doctor: “Who’s your oncologist?”

Me: “Dr. [Movie Star Name].”

Doctor: “I know him. You know, another doctor and I were discussing patients with famous names. He had one named [Golden Girl Name].”

Me: “Okay, I went to junior high school with [Welsh Movie Star Name] and [English Movie Star Name]. Even funnier, my sister’s name is [P*rn Star Name] and she’s conservative. I went to look up her business address and whoa!”

Doctor: “I’ll have to look that up, just not on the office computer.”