Hell, that's the family doctor's practice on the outskirts of Aachen.
On Wednesdays, vaccinations are given and whatever vaccine is available is boosted.
A maximum of two people are allowed to enter and wait in front of the registration desk.
Counting to two isn't for everyone.
So all false counters back into the corridor and observe when it is time to move up.
"Please the completed form." - "Huh?
What kind of sheet?” “We need the signed patient information that we gave you at the last appointment.” – “Oh, that's what you mean.
I don't have it with me.
Wait a minute, it's at home somewhere.” – A new sheet is handed over.
Another coolie, the last one from the disinfected stock, the coolies are dwindling.
The next patient appears and hands over the anamnesis form, filled out in an exemplary manner. Alone, the vaccination card is missing. Instead, there is a snotty answer: "It's in my other jacket. Hurry up, I've been waiting for ten minutes!" One excuse after another slows down the pace in the well-organized practice: I never got it, I forgot it, I don't remember where I put it, I just want Biontech , so I don't take Moderna at all! On the other hand, it's a kind of rhetorical rejuvenation cure - excuses like in school with sloppy, more precisely: unfinished homework that the dog ate, the cat abducted.
A polite elderly gentleman has forgotten his glasses and cannot cope with filling out the form; the medical assistant patiently helps.
Others smile mildly.
Which in turn angers a big man who snows in on this cold winter morning and trumpets, "I threw up at work and I need sick leave.
Such shit!” The residual energy is definitely enough for swearing.
Gastrointestinal .
.
.
oh dear, the others let the cursing louts in front.
Just for self protection.
It is wonderful to be in the home office.
So completely without customer contact.
In the "Nine to five" column, changing authors write about curiosities from everyday life in the office and university