The Minute (Plus or Minus) Clinic: Blog-a-thon Day 16
So here I sit at the Minute Clinic. I finally have succumb to my sickness. Now if you dont have Minute Clinics where you are from (which means you live somewhere in a dark chasm without human contact), they are these little doctor’s offices inside a CVS. I guess the idea is that you go there when you put off going to the doctor until you are physically incapable of waiting any longer, none the less waiting until two Thursdays from now at the doctor’s convenience. (Enjoy this tangential point: Would it not be beneficial for the doctor to have certain periods of time open every day for last minute people? I do kind of live in fear of calling the doctor, unable to swallow or feel my toes, and the receptionist woll calmly respond, “The doctor has an opening in 6 days… will that work?”
Now I have a theory that you don’t truly know a person until you witness them in a drug store pharmacy. Will Ferrell once said in a stand-up bit that you can find out the true nature of someone if you make them use slow wi-fi. I object. Here’s the thing… a CVS pharmacy is basically a breeding ground for sweat pants, ill fitting t-shirts, and unwashed hair. You’ve kind of reached the bottom of the barrel when you are forced to stand in the line and wait for medication. So there is a whole multitude of sights, sounds, and mostly smells when you are in that area of the store.
I signed in for the Minute Clinic and saw two people were on the list in front of me. Now anywhere else, being third would be awesome. Third in line at Chipotle means a 10 minute wait time. Third in line at Starbucks means a 5 minute wait time (unless you get the person who is ordering for their whole office building… and Susan in accounting needs a half skim-half whole full foam latte with an extra shot and decided to pay with pennies). But being third in line here means I will be waiting hours if not days, weeks, or months to be seen. But because I am physically incapable of breathing through my nose, I wait.
Now I don’t know what it is about clinics, but all of them have 4 waiting area chairs. Mind you all of these places are equipped to handle significantly more patients than that. Because this is a city and everyone has this “I hate everyone around me” mentality, they all are employing the ‘courtesy chair’ technique. In this technique they save one spot between themselves and those next to them. While this seems nice and friendly, it is mostly because people don’t want to sit next to others. In this situation I am OK with this because my two chair options were either next to a rather voluminous human being who was taking up more than their singular chair, or the other man waiting who looked to be dying of the plague. I figure this is as good of a time as ever to wander the aisles of CVS and see what products are for sale.
And for now this blog post will just have to awkwardly end because I’m writing this in real time and have to go in the little room now with the doctor. I’m hoping that I don’t have dysentery. Then all of my Oregon Trail nightmares would come true.
I will continue my analysis of the inner workings of a CVS tomorrow. Make sure to comment, share, and subscribe for more musings. I shall return tomorrow, hopefully with antibiotics.