The Doctor is indeed out. Of his mind.

So, last week I was sent to a “doctors” office on a temporary assignment.  I was there to answer the phones as the chain-smoking gal that currently holds that position was out with chest pains. 

As I arrived I couldn’t help but notice that this wasn’t a typical doctor’s office.  Not like one I’ve ever visited, anyway.  First of all, it was kind of dirty, but in an odd way.  The carpet was stained and the decor was like someone went to a clearance sale at Kirkland’s.  Thirty years ago.  Baskets with dusty fake flowers.  Faded wall “art” of clowns and kittens.  A candy dish filled with hard candy circa 1977.  The doc himself  seemed awfully old but was pleasant enough and showed me where I’d be sitting.  As I settled in I felt like I was going back in time.  There was an old school matrix printer.  A beat up fax machine.  A shiny “gold” clock that stopped at 10:30.

Finally he motioned for me to join him in the therapy room.  He nonchalantly showed me the equipment I’d be working with that day.  He showed me how to attach the patches to the patients and how to increase the “juice” until they say when.  He showed me how to turn on the therapy table and adjust the rollers.  I just stood there, mouth agape.  First off, we all know that I’m an drool covered mouth breathing idiot and have no medical training whatsoever unless you count the fact that I can quickly deduce the amount of sleeping pills one can take with the amount of vodka one’s ingested and still wake up.

Secondly, would you want A TEMP with around 7 minutes of training putting electrode patches anywhere on your body and then upping the “juice”?  That’s what I thought.  Me either.  I’m starting to have chest pains.

And lastly, this is not the type of clinic where you’d really want to touch anything, let alone anyone.  His oxycontin addicts  clientele was a little on the rough side, you might say.  And by “rough” I mean, “would gladly amputate a limb for a prescription”.   Nope.  Not kidding.  One of the gentlemen that came in seriously resembled a wild animal.  His long hair was dyed Wynonna red but it was really thin and you could kind of see through it.  His eyes were wild and darty and his teeth (what few he had) looked to be grey and pointy.  I called him “sir” about thirteen times as I threw a pen out the reception window for him to fill out some paperwork.  No way was wolf-boy sticking his snout or claws over the counter towards me.

There was also no way I was getting in a 3 foot radius of this guy, let alone hooking him up to any machine.

I sprinted back to the Doc’s office and I blurted out something about having “lady problems” and ran to the bathroom down the hall.  I also told him that there was something in the waiting room that appeared to be one of his patients.

I called my temp agency from inside one of the stalls in sheer revulsion and terror. 

Temp OfficeHe has you doing what!?!
Me:  *terrified whispering*  I’m like his flunky assistant!  He wants me to treat people!  I think they’re people, anyway.  They’re really gross. Get me out of here!
Temp Office:  Okay, calm down.
Me:  You wouldn’t be so freakin’ calm if you saw the dude that just came in!  He looks stabby!
Temp Office:  Stabby?
Me:  Shut up!  You are not paying me enough to touch people that are so dirty they actually look shiny!
Besides, I shouldn’t be touching anybody!  What kind of “doctors office” is this, anyway?  Welcome to the “Drugs and Thugs” clinic?  What if I accidentally kill someone?
Temp Office:  Look, I’ll call his corporate office and get this straightened out.  Just hang tight.
Me:  I hate you fuckers.
Temp Office:  Noted.  Have a great day!

I stayed in the bathroom for a ridiculous amount of time. I was pitted out and puckered up the rest of the afternoon.  I had sweat stains under my arms and had a nervous tic whenever I heard the door open.  Yet somehow I finished the day.  At the stroke of 5:30pm I gathered up my belongings and raced back to his office to bid him adieu and get the hell out of that building.  He was slumped over onto his chest and snoring loudly.

Well, hell.  I leaned my head in and whispered “nighty-night, Doc” and went home where I immediately filled up my bathtub with twenty gallons of antibacterial hand sanitizer and soaked for three days. 

5 thoughts on “The Doctor is indeed out. Of his mind.

  1. Broooooks says:

    I will come down there, you go back to work one more day and hook me up to the machines-that-zap-you-until-you-say-when. Together, we will win 37 Pulitzers and split the oxycontin. Win!

  2. julia says:

    Wow… Jen, you have the craziest stuff happen to you! I really thought you were kidding there for a bit.

  3. Jen says:

    No kidding, I couldn't believe it was actually a for real assignment. What are people thinking? Ah, the glamorous life of a temp! Thanks for reading!

  4. OMG!!But made a great blog! hee hee hee Sharing it on my FB page… totally Blogess worthy! 😉

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