Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Thanks, One Question...

I have discovered there is a magical, single question which can both reward and torment service providers. I delight in its discovery.

I came upon it by necessity, when Monday, I attempted to book a post date scan. My midwife had endeavoured to secure an appointment the prior week, but we were informed far too many overdue ladies fail to turn up to post date they often go into labour before the ultrasound time comes (that makes sense, right?). Instead, the clinic informed her I would be given priority on the required day. So I was given the task of making the appointment Monday, by the clinic's suggestion, and the instructions of my midwife.

The receptionist was not impressed. I know this, because she responded by saying twice, "Your midwife is meant to call this in". I offered to call my midwife, and do things the preferred way, and she replied, "Well, your midwife is meant to call this in." Had I mistakenly encountered an android, and was wasting my time hoping for a development in the conversation? But then the receptionist said, "Look, I'll go talk to the radiologist, but...[you guessed it], your midwife was meant to call this in". She returned moments later, and said, "I spoke to the radiologist, she said your midwife is really meant to call this in," [Really? Is my midwife meant to call? Do you feel validated for being an android now that you have a second witness' testimony of the same?] She then continued, "But you can have an appointment at 4:15pm."

In the short moment that followed I must have conjured 16 alternative ways Android Woman could have delivered the same information without being so...rude. Take conjuring number one, for example; "Oh, we usually have midwives call this in, but I'll see what I can do!" (said once, for effect, if you will).

I shook my head to clear it of all of my constructive suggestions, and with a sweet smile in my voice, uttered the blessed, one question to rule them all;

"Thank you. And what is your name?"

Android Woman stuttered. Human, after all it would seem.

I have shelved the magical question for future use. Uttered softly and in kind tones, it can render a poop embarrassed and fretting, and someone of impeccable service proud and beaming. Magical, I say, magical.

P.S. Later that day, my midwife called me to confirm I'd received a scan time. She complained of having called the radiology clinic to check the same (so as not to bother me, aw), and being told, in words to this effect; "Who are you kidding? You can't book scans on the day! There aren't any available times!" What a head-scratcher. Dear Clinic: Either you want no-shows and advance appointments, or you make provision for the late ladies. Also, hire humanoids.

Sherry - I thought you'd care to know Android Woman's name had "man" in it. I thought that would tickle you.
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