The Doctor's Office

What is it with the doctor’s office?
I have this theory. Well not so much a theory as an observation.
Whenever I go to the doctor. And it doesn’t matter which doctor. Whether it be my GP or a “specialist”, They all make me wait for a ridiculous amount of time. Not just once but TWICE!
First, they make me an appointment at say 8:00 am (way too early to get there, and they know it) and then they tell me how important it is that I arrive on time, in fact better get there 15 minutes before hand because there WILL be paperwork to fill out.
When I do get there. On time I might add.
I find that the paperwork I have to fill out takes all of 30 seconds.
Then I wait.
In the waiting room.
Which at this point isn’t too bad because at least there are two year old magazines to read. I always pick Newsweek, Time or National Geographic.
History is always an interesting read and I usually get through half the magazine.
I really believe that the receptionist is instructed to watch me carefully though. Because, every time I get engrossed in a really interesting article on say, Nigerian diamond mining, they call my name. I then have this overwhelming urge to say something like “can I take this magazine with me?” but I never do, why? Because my friends, I naively think that I am going to see the doctor now.
Oh contraire.
I am now led through a maze of corridors to a small sanitized cubicle sized room with a bed/bench kind of thingy covered with paper. I am instructed to sit on the bed/bench thingy and the doctor will be right with me.
He wont!
In fact he will be anything but be right with me.
This is the worst room by the way. Why? Because there is nothing to do. No magazines, no brochures, no nothing. Admittedly, there are a few pictures on the walls of uteruses and a body with the skin peeled off of it. And there are a few pamphlets on the other side of the room for cialis or osteoporosis I’m not sure which. But they are too far away and I am always too scared to walk over to them to read them, just in case the doctor walks in and catches me. (“ha ha” he would say “what are you looking at that for?”)
So, I sit there quietly and listen to the sounds in the corridor.
I know the doctor is on the other side of that door. Shuffling papers and walking loudly up and down the corridor just to add to my anxiety. He does it on purpose, I know it.
I am by this time indignant.
How dare they keep me here waiting this long.
Why cant they make me an appointment at 9:30am if that’s when the doctor is going to see me.
I’m going to lodge a complaint.
Write a letter.
Call my congressman.
Create a consumer advocacy group. Citizens against waiting in doctors offices and getting bored society. Or something.
Just when I cant stand it any longer and I am about to completely lose it.
In walks the doctor.
“Hello Mr. Fraser, how are we today?” he says with genuine concern
Bloody Nazi.