(My family and I have been going to the same optometrist, a family friend who grew up with my father, for as long as I can remember. He finally retires after around 50 years and sells his business to a local chain optometry company. I get one final exam in with my regular optometrist, about five months before he retires, and I run out of contact lenses around two months after he retires. I call up his old office, now owned and operated by the chain and of whom I am now a patient, to order more.)

Me: “Hi. This is [My Name]; I was a patient of [Optometrist]. I’d like to order more contacts.”

Receptionist: “Of course. But before we can order more contacts for you, we’ll need you to come in for an exam.”

Me: “Uh… I’m sorry, why?”

Receptionist: “Your prescription is out of date.”

Me: “I just had my last exam seven or eight months ago. Why do I need another one?”

Receptionist: “Because you are a new patient; the optometrist has to see you before he can order your contacts.”

Me: “Okay… How much is an exam?”

Receptionist: “It will be [amount].”

(My old optometrist charged a little more than half the price that was quoted to me. My vision insurance only covers one exam every twelve months, regardless of who gives the exam, and at the price they quoted me I cannot afford a second exam in less than a year. I explain as much to the receptionist.)

Me: “There’s really no way for the optometrist to order me enough contacts to get me through the last four months before my insurance covers another exam?”

Receptionist: “Let me speak with the optometrist; we might be able to work something out. I’ll have to put you on hold.”

Me: “That’s fine.”

(I am on hold for about 20 minutes, and finally, the line cuts to ringing. A completely different person answers.)

Receptionist #2: “Thank you for calling [Chain Optometrist].”

Me: “Oh… I was on hold, waiting for a different receptionist to ask the optometrist a question.”

Receptionist #2: “Oh! What was the question, do you know? I might be able to answer it.”

Me: “Whether the optometrist could order me more contacts before I have another exam. I just had one about eight months ago.”

Receptionist #2: “That shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t know why the other receptionist needed to ask the optometrist that. May I have your name, please?”

Me: “Sure, I’m [My Name].”

Receptionist #2: *typing audibly* “Okay… Hm, that’s weird.”

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Receptionist #2: “I don’t have you in my system.”

Me: “That is weird; I thought all my information transferred over fine.”

Receptionist #2: “Transferred? Which doctor did you see?”

Me: “[Optometrist].”

Receptionist #2: “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with that doctor.”

Me: “But you guys just bought his company?”

Receptionist #2: “Oh… Oh! Oh, you mean in [Town]?”

Me: “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Receptionist #2: “You called the [City] location; we can’t order you contacts, but the [Town] location where you’re registered as a patient can.”

([City] is a large city about 60 miles away; [Town] is a small town that is about a five-minute drive from my apartment.)

Me: “That’s what I did; I called [Town], then I was put on hold when I asked to order contacts..”

Receptionist #2: “Ah, I understand. Our home office is in [City], so all hold calls eventually transfer back to us after a certain amount of time.”

Me: “That’s… strange. Could you please transfer me back?”

Receptionist #2: “Of course. Hold on just a minute, please.”

(I am placed on hold again, again for around twenty minutes. Finally, a third receptionist picks up.)

Receptionist #3: “Thank you for calling [Chain Optometrist].”

Me: “Hi. this is [My Name]. I was a patient of [Optometrist]. I called earlier to order more contacts.”

Receptionist #3: “Of course. Let me look up your prescription. Oh… You haven’t seen the optometrist yet.”

Me: *sighs* “No, but I just saw my old optometrist about eight months ago.”

Receptionist #3: “Well, we can’t order you more contacts until you see the optometrist.”

Me: “Yes, I was told this by the first person I spoke to. She put me on hold to ask the optometrist.”

Receptionist #3: *snorts* “Don’t know why she would do that. She should know we won’t give you any without an exam by our doctor.”

(I have worked customer service for almost ten years, and as such, I don’t want to cause a scene but I am frustrated and this particular receptionist, being so curt with me after the other two were trying to be helpful, irritates me. At this point, including the hold time, I have been on the phone for almost an hour now for what should have been a three-minute call.)

Me: *forcing my voice to be as even as I can* “I’m sorry, let me stop you there. I apologize if I come off as frustrated, but it’s because I am. I have been transferred three times and been on the phone for nearly an hour, and you are the third person I have spoken to. I literally need maybe one full box of contact lenses to get me through four months, as my insurance won’t cover another exam so soon and I can’t afford your exam rate without insurance. Is there really no way for me to get just one box of contacts without seeing your optometrist?”

(There is silence on the line, and I think at first that she hung up. Then, she speaks, very icily and sharply.)

Receptionist #3: “That is how we do things here. You know, there are four other optometrists within ten miles of us.”

Me: “I see. I’ll take my prescription information now, thank you. I’ll order my contacts from [Mail Order Contacts Service].”

(The receptionist proceeded to read off my prescription to me rapidly and, again, rather sharply. I managed to write it down, and as soon as she finished speaking she hung up on me. I got some recommendations from family and friends, and four months later I very happily saw a different optometrist, whose employees were sympathetic but not surprised when I told them about my experience with the chain. They told me they already had sixteen former patients of [Optometrist] switch over to them after the chain took over! Not a good look for the chain.)

(I am answering the phone at an OB-GYN office when a woman calls to make an appointment.)

Me: “[Office], how can I help you?”

Woman: *sounding a little nervous but also very excited* “Ah, well, I need an appointment. It’s the strangest thing; I went sightseeing a few months ago, to see the pyramids. I thought I got food poisoning or indigestion from eating things I wasn’t used to. But it’s lasted for a few months, and this morning I glanced in the mirror and thought I looked a little heavier.”

(I can see where this might be heading, and am almost giddy because I can’t believe the fantastic joke opportunity I’m about to have.)

Woman: *continuing* “—so I took a pregnancy test. I think I’m three months pregnant!”

Me: *cheering internally* “Well, ma’am, it sounds like you did get sick on your trip.”

Woman: “Oh?”

Me: *holding back laughter* “You caught the Egyptian flu. You’re going to be a mummy!”

Woman: *laughs*

Me: “And congratulations. Let’s figure out your due date and get in your with one of our doctors.”

This story is part of our Puns Roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

14 Times Awesome Customers Proved That They Do Exist!

Read the next Puns Roundup story!

Read the Puns Roundup!

(When I am pregnant with our first child, my husband and I go to a birthing center for all my prenatal care and then for the birth. This birthing center has two midwives. One is a complete angel, but the other is quite difficult to deal with. Partway through the pregnancy, I notice I have gotten a lot of stretch marks on my stomach and am worried that it looks pretty bad. But since my husband hasn’t commented on or acknowledged them at all, I decide they must not be as noticeable as I thought. Then comes another appointment with the difficult midwife. When she sees my stretch marks, she exclaims:)

Midwife: “You look like you got attacked by a tiger! You really need to start working to prevent getting more.”

(She then proceeds to tell me methods to prevent getting more and warning me that they never go away, while I lay there feeling insecure and embarrassed. I look over at my husband to find him looking angry. When he and I get out to the car after the appointment, before we drive off, I turn to him and ask hesitantly and nervously:)

Me: “So… are they really that bad? Like I was attacked by a tiger?”

Husband: *frustrated sigh* “I could shoot that woman.”

Me: “…”

Husband: “I knew as soon as she started talking it would make you feel bad. I so wanted to knock her out or something.”

Me: “You’d never seemed to notice them, so I thought they weren’t that bad.”

Husband: “Of course I noticed them, but I didn’t care! They don’t matter. And I didn’t say anything because I knew it would make you feel bad! I think you are beautiful! The stretch marks really aren’t a big deal.”

Me: “Oh. Thank you.”

(This attitude is only one of the reasons I’m glad to be married to him.)

(The office I work in is in a larger building with other medical offices in it. I’m walking in to work one day and see an older lady standing in the intersection of two hallways looking lost. I’m not wearing scrubs or a uniform of any kind, but I must look like I know where I am going because she stops me with this:)

Old Lady: “Where do I go?”

Me: “Which office are you looking for?”

Old Lady: “I don’t know; where do I go?”

Me: “Are you seeing a doctor or having a procedure done?”

Old Lady: *motions to her throat* “They’re scanning this.”

Me: *thinking this narrows down the possibilities to two offices* “Do you know what kind of scan, or the name of the office you need to be at?”

Old Lady: “They just told me to come in door B.” *our building entrances are marked with letters* “Where do I go?”

Me: “Well, I work at [Radiology Clinic], so follow me and we’ll see if your appointment is with us.”

Old Lady: “But where do I go?”

(Her appointment was with us, but for the next day. We were able to squeeze her in. It happens way too often that patients come for scans but have no idea what it’s for or which doctor sent them. I would be able to understand getting lost if the offices in our building weren’t so clearly marked and there weren’t maps at every entrance.)

(I’m sitting in a doctor’s office waiting room with my five-year-old son for a routine checkup. In Australia, legally, you do not have to have your parents’ consent for doctor visits once you turn 16, at which point you can apply for your own medicare card, as well. A young girl around 16 or 17 marches through the door and walks up to the receptionist, followed by an older woman who turns out to be her mother. Her mother is WAILING at the top of her lungs, begging her daughter to stop, asking how she could do this to her, etc., in amongst just screaming randomly. Every kid in the practice bolts to their parents and the adults are left to just watch it all unfold.)

Teenage Girl: “Hello. I’m [Teenage Girl] and I’m seventeen and here for my own appointment.”

(Her mother increases her screeching, now sitting firmly in harpy territory.)

Mum: “I AM HER MOTHER AND I DO NOT CONSENT TO THIS.”

(The receptionist, to her credit, simply checks the young girl in, and she goes to sit down and wait. Her mother, still crying and shrieking, follows her and sits between her and another mum with a toddler who looks horrified.)

Mum: *through hiccups and tears* “Make sure you raise him right, but even if you raise him right, he’ll let some big corporation turn him against youuuu!”

(The other mum gets called in for her appointment and makes a hasty getaway, leaving us to listen to the crazy banshee beg and plead and scream at her daughter not to do this. Honestly, at this point, I think the only thing that could cause this reaction would be an abortion, but ohhh, I was wrong. A very perplexed doctor calls the young girl’s name out, and she bolts into the room. Her mother tries to follow but is stopped by the doctor.)

Doctor: “Do you want your mother with you?”

Teenage Girl: “No.”

(This apparently kicks the crazy into overdrive. The mother starts yelling angrily now.)

Mum: “Well, after you get that poison injected into you, you are not coming home and shedding it all over your sisters! You can find somewhere else to live!”

(The mum made an exit and we all realised she was talking about VACCINES. When her daughter emerged from the room she apologised to all of us, and it looked like she’d been crying. A few people offered her tissues and told her she was a brave kid for standing her ground. She had a quiet talk with the receptionist, who called someone, and when I was leaving the receptionist said she’d called the girl’s father for her. Wherever you are, brave girl, I hope you had somewhere to live, and good on you for making the smart choice!)