⊰ A bit small not so big ⊱
The red phone in the clinic
It was at the veterinary clinic I used to work at, on an extremely busy Friday - the only day off, to run errands on, for most working people.
There was a dog on the treatment table, waiting for vaccination. In the other room, an unhappy cat in a cage. At the reception, there was the owner of the previous patient who just wanted to pay and leave, new people needing to register for appointments, and others who had arrived earlier and were waiting in the reception area. On days like these, there was a need for four of me to manage everything.
The phone rang. I answered quickly with a sharp, “Clinic [Name], hello.”
The customer on the other end responded with a long and slow, “He-lloooo.” She sounded elderly and had an accent (possibly Hungarian).
I replied briskly, “Yes?”
I realized that on the other end of the line was someone who constantly needed to check that I was still there - probably because she’d lost people mid-conversation before. She took her time responding, probably because she had a free morning without needing to visit the HMO and had allllll the time in the world just for me. Meanwhile, I processed a payment, issued an invoice for the previous client, answered the other phone. I realized I’d need to take a more proactive approach with this one.
I asked, “How can I help you?”
Her: “I have a female dog.” a break.
I thought to myself: Oh, so it’s you with the dog. I wondered when you’d call… Knowing she needed signs of life to proceed, I said, “Yes.”
Her: “She’s a bit small, not so big.” Pause.
Me: “Yes.”
Her: “My dog is brown.”
Me: “Yes.” (Thinking: “Aaaaaaaahhhhhh, you haven’t said anything in these sentences. And certainly nothing critical for the treatment.”)
Around me, there was total chaos - barking dogs, a cat dangling from a lamp, a burning tissue˅ thrown. The vet was signaling me with hand gestures to wrap it up, giving me a desperate look that said, “What’s going on? Are you with us today?”
Making an executive decision, since there was no sign of urgency or alarming words like “accident” or “blood,” I asked for her phone number and promised to call her back in a few minutes after handling the backlog caused by this call.
During this time, I also located her card by the number and checked treatment history to see if there was any relevant information.
After calming things down and reducing the queue, I called her back.
Her: “He-lloooo.”
She added a few more irrelevant physical descriptions of the dog and details about how the dog had come into her care a few years ago... when I decided to focus the conversation.
Me: “This is a veterinary clinic. Do you remember why you called us?”
Her: “Yes.”
I thought, “Great, at least that’s something,” and directed her again: “What’s wrong with your dog?”
Her: “My dog is fine.”
(My inner voice screamed: “Whaaaaat?!”) At this point, I pulled the receiver away from my ear and stared at the phone in confusion.
She continued: “I also have a male dog… brown… a little small… not very big.”
Me (taking a deep breath): “What’s wrong with that dog?”
Her: “That dog is fine.”
(The voice in my head shouted: “Aaaaaaahhhhhh! You aren’t for real!”)
I paused for a moment to bang the receiver on the desk and then returned to the call: “Yes.”
The vet beside me looked more concerned than usual about my mental health..
After far too many sentences that led us nowhere, we finally got to the purpose of the call.
As she phrased it: “My female dog is now looking for a hasband.
The male dog arrives… showes interest, sniffs… climbs.”
We scheduled an appointment for a spay surgery once her heat cycle ends.
˅ The tissue wasn’t really burning, but I wanted to convey the atmosphere of a prison riot
