My doctor’s office has two front desk staff: another person and me. My coworker was taking appointment calls, and I got to hear this fun conversation this afternoon.

Coworker: *Answers phone.* “[Clinic], how can I help you?”

Patient: “I wanted to get an appointment with [Provider]. What’s the earliest you have?”

Coworker: “She has something available in December on [date]. Have you seen us before?”

Patient: “I have. My name is [garbled name].”

Coworker: “Um … you said Dingleberry? Okay, what’s your date of birth?”

Patient: “January 1st, 1970. Wait, what did you say my last name is?”

Coworker: “Dingleberry, right?”

Patient: “No … my last name is Carson.”

Coworker: “Oh! I apologize, I don’t know where I got Dingleberry from.”

Patient: *Snickers heavily.* “That’s fine. I’ll take that appointment.”

Coworker: *After hanging up.* “That’s funny, how did I get Dingleberry and Carson mixed up? *Sees me staring at her.* “What even is a Dingleberry anyway?”

And that is how my coworker found out she’d unintentionally called a patient a rude word!

My doctor refers me for a colonoscopy. As I have private medical insurance, I can avoid the waitlist and go straight to the private clinic. At the time, I was a disorganised pushover. We agree on an appointment.

Clinic: “Bring your referral letter with you.”

Me: “I think I’m going to forget to bring it. Can I email it to you?”

Clinic: “No! This is the way it always works, he can’t treat you without the letter from your GP!”

Me: “Yes, I know that. But I have the habit of forgetting things, I don’t want to waste his time.”

Clinic: “Oh, just put it into your pocket and bring it!”

Me: “It’s not that simp—”

Clinic: “—I will email you now and remind you to bring it. Will that work?

Me: “Yes, I sup—”

Clinic: *Click.*

Then I come to my senses. They have my patient file. Why can’t they just add a PDF to it? Who doesn’t have an email address? I call up and complain.

Management: “I apologise. Of course you can do that, send it to [email].”

Years later, the doctor refers me to have a camera put in the other end, a gastroscopy. By this stage, I am still disorganised but no longer a pushover. No f***s left to give.

Clinic: “Bring your referral letter with you.”

Me: “What’s the email address to send it in advance, please?”

Clinic: “We don’t give out the doctor’s personal email!”

Me: “I didn’t ask for anything personal; usually the medical secretary deals with it.” *i.e., you.*

Clinic: “We don’t have it!”

Me: “Look, you’re a private hospital. I refuse to believe that you do not have an email address that paying patients can use. You open the email, and put the PDF in my patient file. Why is that difficult? Or would you rather take the 30% chance that I actually remember to bring it and waste $500 of [consultant’s] time?”

Clinic: “It’s [email].”

Me: “Thank you.”

I shot a picture and sent it to them. They confirmed receipt in one minute. Hopefully, it made it to my file.

I am trying to get Disability currently, as I’m epileptic and can’t work. I decided to go online to apply on the Social Security Administration website. I went through h*** trying to make a SSA account so that I can check the application status and appeal when necessary. The website said that making the account was quick and easy. They lied.

My phone is prepaid, and my second is a VoIP, neither of which can be used to verify my identity. Since I can’t verify my identity, I can’t access my account. Since I can’t access my account, I can’t check my application. So, I called my local SSA office and asked for an appointment to verify my identity in person, as stated on the website. I was told that they could definitely help with that, that I didn’t need an appointment, and to just walk in. I went in the next day with my grandfather.

It was horrible, solely due to the receptionist.

Receptionist #1: *Over intercom.* “[Unintelligible] A-thirty-two [unintelligible] four.”

Grandfather: “Window four.”

We get to window four, but no one is there.

Receptionist #1: *Over intercom.* “[Unintelligible] A-thirty-two [unintelligible] four.”

Me: “Oh, twenty-four, not four.”

[Receptionist #1] starts calling the next person, but stops when she sees me and my grandfather.

Receptionist #1: *Very rude.* “I called you three times.”

Me: *Annoyed, but I stay polite and apologize.* “I’m sorry, we thought you said four, not twenty-four.”

Receptionist #1: *Ignoring my apologies.* “Give me your ticket. What can I do for you today?

Me: *Gives ticket and stays polite.* “Yes, I need to verify my identity for my account, and check my application status, or appeal, since I believe I’ve already been denied by now. My phone is a prepaid phone, and my other number is a VoIP number, so I can’t verify my identity using either. I was told that I can verify my identity face-to-face?”

Receptionist #1: *Still rude.* “Who told you that?”

Me: *Thinking.* “Your website and the woman I talked to on the phone yesterday.”

Me: *Out loud.* “That’s what I was told. I can’t sign into my account without verifying my identity, and I can’t verify my identity without a phone number that’s attached to my identity. I just need to verify my identity, and I also wanted to ask about my application status and changing my address on it.”

I learned later that you can’t once it’s been sent.

Receptionist #1: *Ignores last two.* “Can I see your valid ID and what’s your social security number?”

I slide both cards through the slot.

Receptionist #1: *Looks at ID.* “Is your address on this correct?”

Me: “No, it’s—”

Receptionist #1: *Interrupts me.* “—then what is it?!”

Grandfather: “The address is [Address].”

Receptionist #2: *Walks over as [Receptionist #1] is typing.* “Hey, am I supposed to be dealing with A33? You called them already.”

Receptionist #1: “You can take them. I called A33 when I called them—” *Jerks head to myself and my grandfather.* “—three times, and they only showed up after I called the next one.”

[Receptionist #2] walks away. [Receptionist #1] types for a minute.

Receptionist #1: “You don’t have an account.”

Me: *Confused.* “I do. At first, I didn’t know if it went through, because my computer died in the middle of making it, but I tried to create one again, and it said there already was an account attached to my social.”

Receptionist #1: “Well, it says you tried to sign in yesterday at [time].”

Me: *Thinking.* “So, do I not have an account, or did I try to access my account?”

Receptionist #1: *Huffy.* “What’s your social?”

Me: *Trying not to bang my head on the desk.* “You still have my Social Security card.”

[Receptionist #1] calls over the manager. There is inaudible muttering, and she looks directly at me, but addressing the manager in that whisper tone that’s really not a whisper.

Receptionist #1: “I called them three times.”

More whispering. The manager finds my account in moments.

Receptionist #1: *To me, still in a rude voice.* “It says you never finished making the account.”

I am exasperated, because she’s not listening to a single word I’ve said, and is continuing to treat me like I’m five instead of twenty-four.

Me: “Yes, because my numbers are prepaid and VoIP, and I can’t verify my identity. So, I can’t finish the account or log in. That’s why I’m here.”

Receptionist #1: *Mutters under breath, then speaks up.* “I can give you a one-time code to verify your identity online. Do you want it by email or print?”

Me: *Done with this and wishing it was over.* “Either is fine.”

Receptionist #1: *Snaps.* “Do you want it by email or print?”

Me: *Just wanting to go home at this point.* “Print.”

[Receptionist #1] hands me a page with instructions and a code and talks to me like I’m a child.

Receptionist #1: “Just follow the introductions on the paper, okay? Anything else?”

I have a few more questions, but I’m thinking it’s not worth my blood pressure.

Me: “No, that’s all.”

Receptionist #1: *Rudely.* “Then you can go. Have a good day.” *Turns and completely ignores me.*

Quite possibly one of the rudest people I’ve met. I didn’t get half the information I went to ask for, but at least the one-time activation code worked, and I finally finished the account, so, yay?

Related:
Very Bad Reception, Part 23
Very Bad Reception, Part 22
Very Bad Reception, Part 21
Very Bad Reception, Part 20
Very Bad Reception, Part 19

I simply do not know how some people stay in business treating patients as badly as they do.

In April of 2025, I had an appointment at a dermatology office, as my primary would like me to do these yearly, yet I’ve only done so one other time in my life. I’m working on being better.

When I called, they knew I was a new patient. They asked about my insurance but asked me no other questions. I arrived early/on time and filled out the paperwork, and then I waited forty-five minutes to be brought into the back.

Intake Person: “What are you here for?”

Me: “My doctor wanted me to get looked over as part of my yearly physical.”

Intake Person: “Oh, then you needed to book an appointment beforehand so that the time, which will be thirty minutes, could be booked out.”

Me: “How am I supposed to know this? The receptionist should have asked that, as she knew I was a new patient.”

Intake Person: “Well, yes, but she didn’t, and I’m going to have to make you an appointment. I noticed that there is time tomorrow.”

Me: “Today, I had to wait forty-five minutes. Will I be seen when I get in?”

Intake Person: “Yes, I see that tomorrow we will be fully staffed. Today we are not, which is why there was a wait.”

So, I made another appointment for 10:30 the next morning. I arrived at 10:25… and waited until 10:42, when I asked if I was going to be seen soon. After another couple of minutes, I was called back. I put on the gown… and waited. After another ten minutes, I poked my head out and asked what was going on, and I was told that if I couldn’t wait, they could make me another appointment. I told them NO, if I wasn’t seen in five minutes, I’d find another dermatologist.

Five minutes later… the doctor came in. I don’t remember what I said specifically, but it did revolve around the fact that I’d been made to wait thirty minutes.

Doctor: “We do have other patients.”

Me: “Goodbye. I’m not doing this.”

Doctor: “Okay.”

Me: “I also expect my money back.”

I had to pay a copay the day before.

Doctor: “Yes, you will get that back.”

I left.

Yes, doctor, you have other patients. I do expect that you have other patients; otherwise, you’d not be a doctor’s office. This is why you have appointment times, as well. Your attitude and lack of respect toward your patients are why I am not going to be a patient of yours.

The receptionist takes a call:

Receptionist: “Oh, hi [Coworker’s Name]. Running late today?”

Pause.

Receptionist: “Oh! Oh my God! You poor thing! Oh, that’s horrible!”

The receptionist actually starts crying. By now, everyone is paying attention.

Receptionist: “What do you mean you’ll only be a little late! You should take the day off! You’ve been through something traumatic!”

Pause.

Receptionist: “No, I am not overreacting! This is all so upsetting! I can’t process this!”

The receptionist hangs up and runs into the breakroom, sobbing. The boss goes in to try to console her, but we’re all in the dark regarding what happened.

About ten minutes later, the coworker who was on the phone arrives and looks around for the receptionist.

Me: “She’s in the break room with [Boss]. She seems pretty upset.”

The coworker rolls his eyes and walks into the break room, and asks why the receptionist is so upset. She answers him, and he scoffs:

Coworker: “I said log! Log! I ran over a log!”

Our animal-loving receptionist had misheard the word and got herself all upset.