Things I hate

Yesterday I had to make an appointment for my mother to see a specialist here in Atlanta. Before seeing the specialist, she has to have an MRI. Take my word for it that I am fully authorized to make these appointments and go through these gyrations for her.

Making the first appointment was a piece of cake – I called, they made the appointment; in fact, they would have seen her as soon as today. Lest you think they’re not busy, they are. It happens to be with a group who I see and the receptionists like me – they do things for me.

I asked if the MRI could be done where my mother lives, so as to cut down on the backing and forthing between there and here for them, and they said sure, no problem, and even gave me the name and number of the place.

Of course, they can’t write the orders for it because they haven’t seen her yet, but that’s no big deal, of course, because her Primary Care Physician, who has her medical history, can write those orders. I know they have them, because I have bent over backwards making sure they do. They also have the reports from the visit that has caused this need to see a high-dollar specialist.

And besides, she’s going to see them today and will ask for them for it.

Or at least that’s how I think it should work.

But I call ahead anyway to brief them on the situation, just in case, and I am told we won’t do that.

I beg your pardon? You won’t do that? What do you mean you won’t do that?

I explained that the specialist, see, is here, and my mother lives there, and I’d like to minimalize the travel time. And the specialist can’t order the film because he hasn’t seen her yet.

The woman on the phone said, “Well, we’ve only seen her once.”

Which I understand and all, but they’ve only just moved there. And the office does have all the records. And the reports.

And it’s not like I’m going to use the CD for recreational purposes.

She eventually “expressed” that she was unsure why she had to talk to me.

I did not “express” back that it was because it’s her damn job to talk to me, nor did I “express” back an interest in knowing who signs her paycheck.

I’m not interested in no, I’m not interested in being thwarted, I’m not interested in getting anybody in trouble.

I have worked with customers of one sort of another for a quarter of a century; I have been a customer for longer than that.

I am interested in getting to yes, whether I’m giving service or getting it.

Don’t tell me we won’t do that. Tell me who can do it and who will do it. Tell me what you can do. Tell me what steps I have to take to get where I need to be. Do I need to speak with the doctor directly? Do you need to talk to the doctor who needs the film? Do you need to see me in person, with my picture ID? Do I need to get you a notarized letter from someone? I can make all that and more happen.

There are few things I hate more than willfulness in someone whose job it is to help.

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About S.

Reader, writer, talker, knitter, picture taker, tennis player, music lover, Southerner.
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4 Responses to Things I hate

  1. Heather says:

    You deserve better than that . I’m sorry.

  2. Judy says:

    Give them hell. You shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of treatment, and your mother definitely deserves better.

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