It wasn’t my intention to post another rant today, but I’ve got some anger issues and I can’t afford therapy.
Yesterday I was furious about something that happened at the Doctor’s surgery.
My eldest girl who’s 3 years old was due her Measles, Mumps and Rubella jab.
Picture: BrittanyG
As is the normal practice the Doctor’s Surgery send out an appointment slip two weeks in advance. They choose the date and time to suit their own working arrangements – and that’s fine, I have no problem with that.
So with my yellow appointment slip in hand, I hoiked my daughter out of Play Group early to ensure I we to the Doctor’s Surgery 10 minutes before the appointment.
As we set off I’d told her where we were going and it didn’t please her. When I say it didn’t please her, I mean she was bloody cross about it, and she told me off before then engaging in a 20 minute whinge-fest.
The whinging was really getting on my wick by the time we arrived at the Surgery and my nerves were starting to jangle.
After booking in on the blasted self-service computer – because trying to book-in with the receptionist will get you a glowering look and the production of a bony finger pointing toward the blasted self-service computer – which for the record, is even slower to load pages than my blog… if you can believe that? 
Anyway I wasn’t annoyed about any of that.
I wasn’t even slightly miffed that we were ten minutes late getting called in to watch my daughter being stabbed and made to cry – and this is even though my two girls had been climbing on chairs and screeching like banshees in the waiting room, My youngest girl (2) has developed a new laugh that sounds like a witches cackle being delivered at glass shattering pitch. Nice.
So the moment of truth arrives and the nurse delivers some pleasantries about how the children are growing so quickly and it’s lovely to see Daddy bring the children along and all I could think was, Shut your flaming pie hole and get this over with!
I sat down with my daughter and got all set for the tears I was expecting to see any minute.
What I wasn’t expecting to hear was “Sorry, but we can’t do this today.”
“Oh, why not?”
“Because the children need to be 3 years and 4 months before we can administer the jab.”
“Well, she’s 3 years (and counting on my fingers) and er, well, just a few days away from four months, we’re talking days here!”
“Well I’m sorry but we’re not licensed to do it.”
“But you sent out the appointment!”
“Ah, yes. I’ll have a word with the girls who do that”
BLOODY BRILLIANT!!
So I’ve dragged my little girl out of somewhere she was happy. Told her she was going to the Doctor’s thus making her unhappy. Spent the next twenty minutes getting my ear drums assaulted by said unhappy and whinging child. Endured being ten minutes early, and then endured being ten minutes late watching my girls play monkey on the chairs whilst listening to ear splitting banshee screams, and all this under the disapproving gaze and the clearly audible tuts of the other patients!
And for what? To be ushered out with a poxy Sorry and a limp lettuce I’ll have a word with the girls.
Well, Whoop-Dee-Dooo!! Sorry? Sorry, you say?
Why the hell couldn’t the nurse or even Mrs Bonyfinger have been sorry enough to come out to the waiting room and tell me TEN – MINUTES – EARLIER?!
That’s what pissed me off more than anything else. That I had to wait to be stiffed. It’s stinking bad manners.
Of course being the sort of man I am, I wasn’t about to take that lying down so just before I left, I fixed a look on the nurse and said, “Oh, er, no problem. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks then. Thanks.”
I’m a broken man. There’s no hope for me.
Meanwhile, Statler and Waldorf over at Blogopolis Blueprint have a great new feature called ‘Abuse The Readers’. It’s funny as hell, because in fairness, they mock each other too. If you want to find out why I was branded ‘a weirdo’ go and take a look.
And… Next week, I’ll be accepting a couple of awards from lovely people, replying to a long overdue tag and hinting at a new project I’m about to undertake. It’s something I’m very excited about and if I can get it right, it might even save me from the dreaded return to work.
Have a great weekend.
Thanks for reading,
Dave.
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