I’m having one of those weeks. . . actually, it’s a carry over from last week. On the outside I smile sweetly and remain professional. But on the inside I want to smack someone up side their head and ask "What are you thinking?" in my best Dr. Phil impression . . . or rather I’d like to actually say out loud the thoughts that are stuck in my head . . .
I’m not your baby, your honey, your sweetie. I’m not a doll or a dear. My name is Pam. I’m a secretary. What you think is me being sweet and thoughtful is just me doing my job. It’s my responsibility to make sure you get the best care possible. I do the same thing for all of my patients. Making your story more heartbreaking doesn’t get faster results.
I’ll admit that I fell for the heartbreaking stories. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I’m a tenderheart. I’m also very naive. But I’m a fast learner. I realize that sometimes things happen that we have no control over. But please . . . your car broke down, you got into a fight with your roommate and she burned all your clothes on the front lawn, your grandma had a stroke and is in the hospital, your cat ran away, and your prescription got stolen all in the same day. Seriously? Seriously. If it’s a true story, then man your life sucks. Yes, that’s a real story that I heard from a real patient. Not one bit of it was true.
I’m the executive secretary to the medical director. Yes, that is a impressive title and an interesting job. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t tell the docs what to do. All I can do is make sure they have the information they need to make a decision. Trust me, you don’t want me making medical decisions. I don’t have a magic wand to switch a "no" to a "yes". If they say "no" then there’s usually a pretty good reason why. You need to ask the doc about the reason. Arguing with me for 20 minutes isn’t going to change the answer . . . and isn’t going to win me over to your side.
Why, why, why do my patients insist on calling me when they have taken their last pill and then get mad at me when I can’t get a new script approved within an hour? Or worse, they’ve been out of meds for two or three days and can’t understand why I can’t just call the pharmacy to get them a refill. The phrase "But I’m out of my meds. What am I supposed to do?" Uh, try calling before the bottle is empty!
It never fails that the little kids in the neighborhood want to pet Rocky and Luci when we’re out walking. They’ll always ask "Does your dog bite?" and then "Can I pet your dog?" If I let the little kids pet the dogs, the kids will get freaked out when the dogs walk up to them wiggling and happy to be spending time with little people. That’s usually when the moms give me evil looks for letting my dogs get near their kids. But if I don’t let the kids pet the dogs, the kids look at me like I’m a big meany, the dogs don’t understand why they can’t play with the little kids, and the moms give me evil looks for upsetting their kids. It a battle that I’ll never win.
If you can wander around the big box store for an hour loading up your cart with all kinds of things, why in world can’t you walk 5 feet to take the cart back to the cart corral? Don’t just leave it wherever you want! Other people will want to park in that space. Yes, I know that people get paid to round up the carts, but you don’t have to make the job any harder than it already is.
Except for being a patient in a hospital, there is never, ever, ever a good reason why a grown woman should wear a nightgown out in public. Okay, you’re right, your customers don’t see when you deliver papers but your co-workers do. Please don’t ever wear your nightgown in public again.
Thank you for your patience. I feel so much better now!