It’s that time of year again when we go for our annual stabbing at the doctor’s surgery.
This is our first one here, and we both commented that it is painfully obvious that organisation is definitely not their forté.
In our last surgery, Flu Jab clinics were held each Saturday in October, and all you did was state your preference and turn up between the designated opening hours. You literally went through the entrance rolling your sleeve up, into the nurse’s room, quick check of name, DOB and general health, jab, and out another door, back into the car park.
Simple conveyor belt service and they got through something like 500 shots in 3 hours.
In the surgery before that one, even though it was lousy and I wrote loads of posts on being unable to get appointments etc, come Flu Jab time, it was a similar system, but alphabetically grouped for each clinic. We were thus expected to go on the first Saturday in the month, and again it was in one door, checks and jab, out another.
No. You have to make an appointment.
Hubby made ours three weeks ago when he went for his INR blood test, so we duly trotted up (well drove) fifteen minutes ahead of our appointment time today and signed in.
According to the auto check-in gizmo on the wall which was actually working today, there were 12 people ahead of us and a waiting time of 36 minutes.
A woman came and sat next to us and two couples came in after her but were seen first.
She commented on it so I asked when her appointment was to which she replied 3.30.
A different nurse in another room called in a single individual, then two couples, and they were all in and out in a couple of minutes. Then it was her turn, and she was out in less than 2 minutes.
It was now 10 to four, ten minutes after our appointed time.
Eventually another couple were called in and they came out miserable and moaning.
A few minutes later, another single lady was called by a flagging and unhappy nurse, then finally it was us.
We started the conversation by asking her about her day, how she was coping, and how she probably wished she had a pound for every jab she’d administered today.
She laughed and relaxed, saying a tenner would be better, and she would be glad to get home as her feet were killing her.
Duly checked and jabbed, we came out at 4.05, leaving one smiling nurse welcoming in the next patient, who started off looking miserable, but responded to her smile in kind.