A Thakless Job

"Give me" said Darren, pointing at the medicine cabinet. I could hear Darren sniffling and blowing constantly into a tissue, but he wasn't going to get any sympathy from me. In fact very very of the teenagers in the health center waiting room would get sympathy for me.

"Ah Darren, what's your problem?" I asked, my voice deceptively calm. "I'm sick. Just give me some medicine" he said again, completely oblivious. "I know you're sick, but there's something wrong with your eyesight. Didn't you see the twenty other children in the waiting room who got here before you" I said as I placed my hand on his shoulder and gently turned him back towards the waiting room.

"But I'm sick. It will only take a minute. You can't do this. I'm sick" protested Darren. "I know, but you're not the only one here Darren. You're blocked nose is not an emergency. You'll have to wait just like the others" I explained. Darren's face went red, but not with embarrassment. "My parents pay your wages" he exploded as he pulled out his cell phone and hit the redial button. Thirty second later and he thrusts the phone to me "My parents want to speak to you." I shook my head and walked away. "You'll have to wait your turn just like everyone else. I'm not talking to them right now."

Sure enough I received a scathing email about how terrible the health staff are, how we don't care for the kids, how their child has been suffering terribly for the last month. It's normal. I expect it. It's a shame when you learn to expect this sort of behavior.

Oh, and if you're thinking I brought this on myself by not speaking to the parents, trust me, if I'd got on the phone things would only have been worse. It seems no matter how kind, how reassuring, how professional I am, phone calls usually go awry.

Oh well, maybe I'll get a job in anaesthetics.