Imperial
My aunt the doctor is in town and it reminds me why I don't like to spend time with / work for doctors. I love my aunt. I don't mind going to see a doctor about health issues. That is about all I can tolerate.
The problem is a doctor is used to coming in a room, picking up a chart, asking a few pointed questions, giving orders and departing. Here I come to save the day! Whenever my aunt comes to visit she pretty much orders me about the entire visit. These aren't direct "Do what I say Boy!" orders, but the more sinister, orders disguised as questions.
Richard would you go down stairs and get this?
Richard would you make a pot of coffee?
Richard would you get me a beer?
Richard would you call your cousin?
Richard would you get off the computer so I can check my email?
Richard wouldn't it be nice to go out back and get those leaves raked up before your father got home from work?
It is as if rather than being a resident of the house, I am the servant of the people she has come to see. I've considered obtaining a butlers uniform to keep on hand for these visits.
Once upon a time I thought it was just the way my aunt is. Then I spend a couple years working in a doctors office. It doesn't matter what your job is or what you are suppose to be doing, never be anywhere near the charting areas or the private offices. You walk buy with a hand full of charts or perhaps on the way out to lunch and suddenly a doctor calls your name. He or she asks you do her a little favor.
Could you find out where this goes and fax it for me?
Could you pick me up a sandwich as long as you are going out to lunch?
Could you pull these five charts for me?
Could you call these patients and ask them to reschedule?
Could you log me into the network? (the computer ignorance is just rampant or at least it was three years ago, I imagine electric charting has forced some improvement)?
There is no saying, "No" as the doc has already stopped paying attention to you once the assignment / request has been given. You have your orders. Carry them out.
When the revolution comes and I am named Benevolent Dictator and Lord Tyrant for Life (Official title. Expect no actual benevolence) I shall express my oppressive cruelty with a much more open fashion. None of this false civility for me. It will be, "Peon fetch me my wenches and be quick about it or it will go bad for you." Those who really displease me will get ten days in the hole with unformatted college radio piped in as their only form of entertainment.
In Summary: Doctors are Dictators. I am not ... Yet. College radio cam be summed up by Strong Bad: Dead Air, um, Dead Air.
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The problem is a doctor is used to coming in a room, picking up a chart, asking a few pointed questions, giving orders and departing. Here I come to save the day! Whenever my aunt comes to visit she pretty much orders me about the entire visit. These aren't direct "Do what I say Boy!" orders, but the more sinister, orders disguised as questions.
Richard would you go down stairs and get this?
Richard would you make a pot of coffee?
Richard would you get me a beer?
Richard would you call your cousin?
Richard would you get off the computer so I can check my email?
Richard wouldn't it be nice to go out back and get those leaves raked up before your father got home from work?
It is as if rather than being a resident of the house, I am the servant of the people she has come to see. I've considered obtaining a butlers uniform to keep on hand for these visits.
Once upon a time I thought it was just the way my aunt is. Then I spend a couple years working in a doctors office. It doesn't matter what your job is or what you are suppose to be doing, never be anywhere near the charting areas or the private offices. You walk buy with a hand full of charts or perhaps on the way out to lunch and suddenly a doctor calls your name. He or she asks you do her a little favor.
Could you find out where this goes and fax it for me?
Could you pick me up a sandwich as long as you are going out to lunch?
Could you pull these five charts for me?
Could you call these patients and ask them to reschedule?
Could you log me into the network? (the computer ignorance is just rampant or at least it was three years ago, I imagine electric charting has forced some improvement)?
There is no saying, "No" as the doc has already stopped paying attention to you once the assignment / request has been given. You have your orders. Carry them out.
When the revolution comes and I am named Benevolent Dictator and Lord Tyrant for Life (Official title. Expect no actual benevolence) I shall express my oppressive cruelty with a much more open fashion. None of this false civility for me. It will be, "Peon fetch me my wenches and be quick about it or it will go bad for you." Those who really displease me will get ten days in the hole with unformatted college radio piped in as their only form of entertainment.
In Summary: Doctors are Dictators. I am not ... Yet. College radio cam be summed up by Strong Bad: Dead Air, um, Dead Air.
More Laters
posted by Rich Rosenthal II at 2:49 AM
1 Comments:
Could you just ignore your aunt? Would your parents castrate you?
Or tell her, just once and very calmly, "I am not your Fetching Boy," then walk away. That would change things. Granted, it might change it to a household of shrill yelling, I don't know, but it'll stir things up, that's for sure.
Ooh! Better yet, pull the ol' switcheroo. Drop a little Golden Rule on her ass. Ask her to do stuff for you. Wait until she's asked you to do two or three mundate tasks, do them quietly and politely, then casually ask her to get you a soda. See what she thinks of that. Keep doing it, even if she ignores you. Especially if she ignores you.
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