Err...
This morning Barbara and I had to go to the dentist. Nothing serious, just a routine checkup. Since we live a long way away from the dentist it makes sense for us both to book appointments at the same time. And since Barbara at least is very busy, we booked the first two appointments of the day, starting at nine o'clock.
The snow meant that getting there on time was a struggle, but we managed it (in no small part to there miraculously being a parking space available within a mile of the surgery). In the reception area we had to wait whilst the receptionist flirted with the dental nurse, which was a bit annoying. Finally our details were taken and we were told to wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
On the mantelpiece in reception there was a nicely framed note, concerning patients who are late for, or miss their appointments entirely. There is a charge of £30 per fifteen minutes of wasted dentist time should you fail to give advance warning. It was fully half an hour before Barbara was called upstairs to the surgery, despite her having arrived on the dot of nine. The dentist was upstairs all the while, no doubt polishing his drills and irritating conversation technique (why do they always ask you a question when they've got their hand shoved down your throat?)
So what I want to know is where's Barbara's sixty quid? She's just as busy as the dentist, if not more so. She had to take time off this morning for the appointment and he kept her waiting half an hour with no prior (or subsequent) explanation.
This is an NHS dentist - in theory provided free by our taxes, in fact costing a considerable sum of money just for a five minute poke around the gums. It's very hard indeed to get an NHS dentist these days, so we're not in a good position to complain. But it rankles all the same.
And to cap it all (no pun intended), I've got to go back and have a filling in a fortnight's time. Ah well, I'd better start saving.
The snow meant that getting there on time was a struggle, but we managed it (in no small part to there miraculously being a parking space available within a mile of the surgery). In the reception area we had to wait whilst the receptionist flirted with the dental nurse, which was a bit annoying. Finally our details were taken and we were told to wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
On the mantelpiece in reception there was a nicely framed note, concerning patients who are late for, or miss their appointments entirely. There is a charge of £30 per fifteen minutes of wasted dentist time should you fail to give advance warning. It was fully half an hour before Barbara was called upstairs to the surgery, despite her having arrived on the dot of nine. The dentist was upstairs all the while, no doubt polishing his drills and irritating conversation technique (why do they always ask you a question when they've got their hand shoved down your throat?)
So what I want to know is where's Barbara's sixty quid? She's just as busy as the dentist, if not more so. She had to take time off this morning for the appointment and he kept her waiting half an hour with no prior (or subsequent) explanation.
This is an NHS dentist - in theory provided free by our taxes, in fact costing a considerable sum of money just for a five minute poke around the gums. It's very hard indeed to get an NHS dentist these days, so we're not in a good position to complain. But it rankles all the same.
And to cap it all (no pun intended), I've got to go back and have a filling in a fortnight's time. Ah well, I'd better start saving.
Comments
And he has really long nasal hair. Don't like staring up at that when I've got my mouth open. It's a horrible accident waiting to happen.