Yesterday was a landmark day, I changed doctors surgery. Now, it wasn’t because the doctors weren’t good, they were great. It was slightly because the receptionists were rubbish- but that’s part of the job isn’t it. I think that doctors receptionists go on a special training programme with lectures including:
– How to build up an enormous queue of sick people
– Ignoring people whilst chatting to colleagues and answering the phone- hints and tips
– Asking patients about their illness (how to ignore patient confidentiality)
– Opening late- a beginners guide
– How to make an ill person stressed
It was actually more of an issue of accessibility. You see, my old surgery had very little car- parking, forcing people to go there on foot. Not a problem necessarily as they were doing their bit for the environment, traffic congestion and so forth. BUT, they would not let me take my pram inside due to Health and Safety regulations. DESPITE being made accessible for the disabled by the building of a lift! Since a pram isn’t something that you can just sneak under your jumper this posed a little bit of a problem for me.
I think my mind was made up the day that I walked there (40 minutes at least) feeling ill with sick baby in tow, parked the pram outside and then had to wait an hour and a half with baby screaming on my lap. It was because he was too hot and he wanted to go to sleep in his pram. That was the day that I first became the subject of knowing looks and then received the evil eye. As I don’t wander around with a dried out stem of thistles (Alhagi Camelorum) in my pocket, I’m hoping that the practitioner wasn’t very accomplished. You never know though, perhaps that’s why I seem to be more accident prone these days and old age pensioners bully me….