It’s Their First Time Or It’s Going To Be A Big Baby

, , , , , | | Healthy | May 13, 2019

Several years ago I had a summer job working as a clerical officer in an NHS Hospital. One of my reception duties involved checking patients into the antenatal clinics. The receptionist explained to me that when patients arrived for the clinic I had to take their name, and if it was their first appointment, I had to write “no file” on their letter and bring it down to the nursing station. Women who had previously been to the clinic did have a file, so I had to pull out their file, check their details were correct, and bring the file down to the nursing station.

The receptionist showed me how to do the first few arrivals and then said I could take over. The next patient arrived for her antenatal appointment. I smiled at her and her husband, greeted them warmly, and the woman handed me her appointment letter. “Okay, Mrs. [Patient],” I said, trying to appear professional. “Is this your first appointment?”

The woman looked surprised and glanced down at her belly. “No…” she said. She was quite large by this stage! Her husband just smiled, clearly amused. “Oh… Sorry!” I stammered, then retrieved her file, checked her details, and asked her to take a seat in the waiting area. As she and her husband walked off, the receptionist leaned over to me. “Yeah, it’ll be obvious to you if it’s their first appointment!” she said, smiling. I apologised again, but the receptionist told me not to worry, as we all make mistakes!

The receptionist went on holiday, and I managed to cover reception surprisingly well. And during the next three antenatal clinics, I never again made the mistake of asking a woman obviously in advanced stages of pregnancy if it was her first appointment!

Hopefully No One Is Dying For That Call

, , , , , , | Working | May 10, 2019

(I have a doctor’s appointment on Thursday. On Friday, I get a call from the doctor’s surgery but I miss the call because I am taking a nap, and I don’t wake up until after the surgery has closed. They’re closed all of Saturday and Sunday, so I call back on Monday.)

Receptionist: *goes through her regular greeting*

Me: “Hi. I got a call from your surgery on Friday, but I missed it so I’m just returning the call now.”

Receptionist: “Okay, so, what do you want me to do?”

Me: *stunned pause* “Well, I’d like to know what the call was about. Can you check my records?”

Receptionist: *tuts* “Sure, what’s your name?”

Me: “It’s [My Name].”

Receptionist: “There are no notes on your account about you being called.”

Me: “Uh, okay? So, how do I find out what the call was about?”

Receptionist: “You’ll just have to wait until whoever called you calls again. Goodbye.” *hangs up*

(It’s now Thursday again, six days since my appointment, and I haven’t had a call back. Hopefully, it was nothing important!)

The 1960s Want Their Healthcare Back

, , , , | | Healthy | May 9, 2019

(As a middle-aged female, I’ve acquired more than a few chronic ailments, and each time I’ve changed jobs, I’ve had to change health insurance companies, resulting in having to be under the care of numerous doctors for the same conditions. I’ve been divorced for 14 years, and I’ve always had my own health insurance as a working adult. While calling up yet another new doctor to make yet another “new patient” appointment, I give the friendly lady receptionist my pertinent information. All goes well until she drops this line:)

Receptionist: “And that’s your husband’s insurance, correct?”

(That’s the first and ONLY time I’ve ever been asked that, even when I WAS married — and he didn’t even have insurance. Probably shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did, but there was no way she could have ascertained I was married based on anything I told her. Welcome to the 21st century, friendly lady receptionist.)

Sick As A Dog

, , , , , | Healthy | April 30, 2019

(My roommate works outside of the city, about an hour’s drive away. She decides that she wants to get a dog, and the other two roommates and I agree to help take care of it during the day when she’s away. On Monday, the dog is having some stomach trouble. We watch her closely but determine that she needs to go to the vet on Wednesday. My roommate contacts the vet to let them know that I will be bringing the dog by. I drop the dog off, and then return a few hours later when called to pick her up.)

Me: “Hello, I’m here to pick up [Dog] on behalf of [Roommate].”

Front Desk: “Great! She’ll need to take these pills for nausea.” *hands me the pills, and brings the dog out on a leash*

Me: “Has she had the pill for today? Is there anything I can or cannot feed it to her with?”

Front Desk: “I didn’t handle her case; let me get the vet.” *goes to the back, then returns a few minutes later* “I’m sorry, but the vet is with another patient right now. I’ll pull up her file, instead.” *pulls up the file on the computer* “It says that you need to keep an eye on her.”

Me: “What do you mean by ‘keep an eye on her’? What do I need to watch for? And does it say anything about the pill or the foods she shouldn’t have?”

Front Desk: “I can’t tell you that for privacy reasons. The vet has contacted your roommate; you’ll need to talk to her.”

Me: “My roommate is at work right now and might not be able to respond to calls or texts for a few hours. Could you at least let me know what I need to watch for over the next four hours until she’s home?”

Front Desk: “I can’t tell you about anything else on her file for privacy reasons.”

(Frustrated, I take the dog and start walking to my car. I realize that I have no way of knowing if she’ll be able to handle the ride home without an accident, as the vet hasn’t given me any information about what’s wrong or what they’ve given the dog. I turn around, go back into the clinic, and hand the leash back to the woman at the front desk.)

Me: “Here’s [Dog] back. Without knowing any more than I did when I brought her here, I don’t feel comfortable taking her home. I don’t know what she’s had, how to care for her, or what will happen when we get home. Frankly, I don’t know why you’re even releasing her to me if you don’t feel that I have the right to that information. You’ll need to contact [Roommate] to come and get her, if you can get a hold of her at work.”

(I texted my roommate to give her a heads up about the situation, including the name of the woman that I had dealt with at the front desk. Thankfully, she felt I’d made the right move leaving the dog at the clinic and was able to pick her up after work. She also contacted the clinic to express her anger about how they had handled everything, and had my name along with our other roommates’ added to the account.)

Need It A Fair Degree Smaller

, , , , | Working | April 5, 2019

(I attended one of the Military Academies where I earned my bachelors. After exiting the military and taking a year off, I am ready to return to school. One of the schools I’m applying to asks for a copy of my degree. Here’s the thing about Military Academy degrees: they’re the size of a poster! Not something easily scanned. I call the Registrar’s Office at the Academy to ask if they have a smaller size or a digital version they can send me.)

Receptionist: “Hello. May I help you?”

(I get no identification or confirmation of what office this is; they just pick up and say hello.)

Me: “Ah, is this the Registrar’s Office?”

Receptionist: “It is. What do you need?”

Me: *explains* “So, do you have a digital version or smaller, easily-scanned copy?”

Receptionist: “I don’t do that.”

Me: “Okay… Do you know who does?”

Receptionist: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay… Could you please give me the number?”

Receptionist: “Sure. It’s [rattles off the number at high speed].”

Me: “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

Receptionist: *sighs* “Yes, it’s [still extremely fast]”

Me: “Okay, just to check, the number is [number]?”

Receptionist: *sounding very much annoyed* “Yes, that’s correct. What else do you need?”

Me: “Nothing. Goodbye!”

(I called the number, only to be informed the Academies do not make smaller copies for graduates. I ended up taking a picture and pasting it to an 8×11 paper via Word. Luckily, it worked.)

Page 1/1012345...Last