My Belle
It’s been a while since I posted a blog. If you remember, I paid homage to Queen Elizabeth II the week of her passing in my last blog. I felt it necessary to mourn until she was interred. I was steadfast in my commitment to giving her burial my complete focus and reverence however, I was unaware the protocol for burying a Queen required more than a month. As we speak, I believe the queen has yet to be laid to rest and I am afraid I must move on. I believe my personal grieving time has in deed met any royal expectation. My claim to the throne is still pending.
Now that I have moved on, I intend to illustrate the help shortage that plagues the United States and many of its service industries EXCEPT ONE, veterinary clinics. Apparently, they have managed to increase their unfriendly and attitudinal staff to monumental levels.
There was ONE person to greet me as I was being dragged in the lobby by my beautiful best friend Belle. She was always excited to be there and based off the reception I received, so was I. The greeting was happy and friendly and they fawned over Belle. The joy of seeing her tail wag as she happily accepted the loving reception. I may have wagged my own tail on a few occasions.
Now that we are on our 3rd veterinary clinic since moving here to Bentonville Arkansas, the thing that strikes me the most about my experiences is how many people work the lobby’s or gathered around a desk in matching scrubs. On some visits, I counted no less than 6 people all available to greet me and Belle but apparently, the job of happily and cheerfully greeting us (paying customers) is not in the old Arkansas Veterinary staff training manual.
I will quickly try and walk you through yesterday and today’s encounter as best I can. I really don’t care if you don’t want to hear it either, I am gonna write about it anyway. And, I don’t really care if your focus is still on the Queen.
This encounter began on Wednesday when I noticed my blind, finicky, diabetic and near deaf doggie and best friend Belle was down to one prescription pill and made a phone call at 8am on Wednesday morning to have it filled. The prescription is for Clindamycin which is used to treat bacteria issues. Apparently, Belle is a dog, and she enjoys licking things she shouldn’t. Who knew. Anyway, I assumed since we had to give her one pill every 12 hours it was some pretty important stuff. Boy, I could not have been more wrong. The lady on the phone was nice enough, she said she would “turn it in” and they would call me when it was ready.
Since I hadn’t heard anything I decided that they were probably busy and I would save them the call and just show up, big mistake. “You do know that WE require 24-hour notice for all prescription refills”, says the thirty something, nose ringed people greeter. At this point, I had the feeling that I was tardy for first hour in junior high school and would need to think fast in order to avoid a paddling for being late. Yes, they did that at my school. I have a very tender backside, which is why I am a stickler for not being late, but I digress.
“No, I was unaware, of that particular policy but I will be sure and study up the next time.” She slid the window closed and sat back down, I wasn’t sure if we were done or maybe she was summoning the Vice Principal to bring the paddle to the front desk. She re-opened the protective window and based off her attitude, I am assuming the window is bullet proof. “I’m sorry, the prescription is not ready, we will call you when it’s ready. I’m thinking, it’s been 4 hours since I first made the phone call request, even on my worst encounter with my personal prescriptions at my local Walmart, that never happens, 2 hours… tops.
Now, the nose ring customer service specialist on a power trio, in the matching scrubs asks me for my number and I gave it to her. She did manage to throat out a “thank you” and closed the window. I was relieved I didn’t get a spanking and I left, without the prescription.
I waited the rest of the day to be summoned back to the principals office and five minutes before 5pm, (closes at 5…) I get a text that informs me that my prescription is now ready to pick up. So, I can only surmise that the charming, nose ringed customer service specialist decided to exercise her power over the situation and held the prescription to the very last minute. Maybe I make too much of it but I figured the sun was going down and she may have needed to remain indoors once the moon became full. Perhaps the nose ring was meant to be less decorative for her and more of a secure locking device. Who knows.
Now, I go back to pick up the prescription the second day, 28 hours after I made the initial request via phone. When I enter, I am so excited that there is someone different behind the glass cage that my bristled, “ready for combat” posture melted away. Unfortunately, it was a trap. I should not have let my guard down. I was holding the empty prescription bottle in my hand, and for affect, I held it up to the window and said, “I have a prescription ready to be picked up”. She slid the glass open and began the interrogation, “what’s the name on the prescription? What’s the pets name? What is the prescription for?” Even though I was still clearly holding up the empty prescription bottle in my hand that had ALL THREE of the answers to the questions she had just asked clearly printed on the label, I answered each with the best of my ability and I may have added my rank and serial number for good measure
This was an even younger Animal hospital customer service specialist but this one simply had a pierced nose in one nostril, not the full security latches the other specialist had the previous day. I could only assume that she had not made rank yet. Maybe she was in training for the full security nose ring latch. Full disclosure, I have no problems with nose piercings or nose rings, they just make my eyes water for some reason and I get an urge to do a little pickin if you know what I mean…
Belle has her meds now, unfortunately, she missed two doses due to my lack of understanding of the rules. I vow not to make that mistake again.
So in summary, I am convinced that a fella could more easily and more happily get a Viagra prescription filled and potentially impregnate a statue before my beloved Belle, the ONLY female in my house that is ALWAYS happy to see me, could get her bacteria medication filled at the Veterinary clinic. In the words of the astute and renowned philosopher Forest Gump, That’s all I have to say about that.