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Don’t Mess with a Mother.

I think what they meant to write on that sign was, "This window makes us more important than you. Just so you know."

I think what they meant to write on that sign was, “This window makes us more important than you. Just so you know.” Photo via http://www.chicagotribune.com 

 

As I walked into my doctor’s office this afternoon, I knew right away what was about to go down. I stood at the little glass window while the receptionist ignored me for at least five minutes. For whatever reason, that window makes these people feel as though the are part of an exclusive physician club, only allowing certain members to gain access to their precious office. And god forbid you have a cough. You better put a mask on before even attempting to get that chic to expose herself by opening the glass to take your germ-filled insurance information. If you were a typical mean girl in high school, you’d be perfect for a position within any doctors’ office. Being a major bitch is definitely the only necessary experience you’ll need to be considered for the job.

After Wendy  (whose name I know because of her name tag, not because she politely introduced herself) finally decided to allow me access to the club, she opened her window, looking overly (and very sarcastically) confused. “Can I help you??” she asked. I know why she was pulling this act, looking like she couldn’t imagine why I was there. I knew I was ten minutes late, which basically meant I would need to beg for the doctor to see me. “Oh honey, your appointment was at 4:20. I’m not sure the doctor will have time to fit you in now.”

Let me just stop you right there, Wendy. First of all, I am a mother. Showing up ONLY ten minutes late is a fucking victory in my book. Secondly, do you have any idea how much effort went in to actually getting here? It took me eight weeks just to schedule the damn thing because I’m too busy taking care of everybody else. Not to mention, I had to wait until my boss let me leave work and then I had to drop my toddler off with his sitter. You’re actually lucky I spent the extra ten minutes to get rid of the kid so that you don’t have to listen to his screaming throughout my entire appointment (he has a serious fear of every doctor….).Lastly, let me just take your little name tag with the “We care, always!” sticker and shove it up your ass because, clearly, you don’t care. And you know what, the next time I come in here with a cold, I’ll be sure to forget to put a mask on and accidentally spew my coughing germs all over your precious glass window. How about that?

My doctor sure as hell better be prescribing me some Xanax today because his passive aggressive secretary might just put me over the crazy mommy edge.

Moral of the story: Don’t mess with an extremely busy, overtired mother. Especially at the end of a very long day.

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