Clue Less
Share
Yesterday, I had an appointment with my new dermatologist for my yearly skin cancer screening.
Or so I thought...
The waiting room was small, crowded and full of sales posters. The receptionist handed me a pen and a form on rashes. I handed the clipboard back and informed her that I don't have a rash: "I am a new patient here for my annual cancer screening". "Doesn't matter" she says. "Fill out the form anyway. Only one issue per appointment. You're down for rosacea."
Rosacea makes me look like an overripe tomato, especially on photos. It's embarrassing, not deadly. The worst thing that could happen is that the bumps could grow to make my nose the size of Jimmy Durante's. Then I'd have to endure a painful cautery procedure. For now, I know I need to apply cream every morning and stay out of the sun.
20 minutes after my scheduled appointment time, I'm lead to an exam room where I don't need to strip because the doctor will only be looking at my face. So much for the arm pit shave and fresh deodorant. I'll have to book another appointment for the one-issue cancer screening.
Another 20 minutes pass before a med student pops in to ask the reason for my visit? "Rosacea?" I try to explain.
It feels like another 20 minutes pass before she returns with the doctor. The student is young and very pretty. Her mentor smiles at her and uses a lot of multi-syllablic words to describe my rash... er condition. I don't recall him saying anything to me other than "take off your glasses".
Mr. Derm hands me a brochure and gets a little more talkative:
"$800.00. I can clear up your rosacea in 3 treatments."
I hand the pamphlet back to him: "I don't have $800.00. I'm a small business owner. There's no money for things that aren't necessary."
"Why aren't you making money?" "Are you on Shopify?" "Have you done THIS (fill in the blank)? THIS (fill in the blank)? THIS (fill in the blank)? AND THIS (fill in the blank)? "How can it be that you have a business and aren't making tons of money?" yadayadayada
I can't answer as quickly as he speaks. He seems to think he can solve all my woes with his helpful, well-meaning advice. Then he can get my $800! I envision dollar $ and decimal points flashing behind his pupils. It feels like he's never met a patient without money... so determined is he to "upsell" me.
My brain is spinning. Emotions well up inside me.
A few yoga breaths help. But I want to give him a lecture. I'm experiencing a strong need to school him like he schooled his student. It's time to employ my own multi-syllabic arsenal of mansplaining "Mike"(mic) drops. It's sooooo tempting to take him and all 6 blonde, full colour, poster models down. More yoga breaths. "Don't cry. Don't yell. Don't Karen." I tell myself.
"Have you been downtown lately?" "Have you seen all of the empty store fronts?" I eke out. "My favourite store, Limey, closed both locations for good last month. A good friend attempted suicide this past spring after losing his business of 35 years. Don't you read the newspaper? There's a postal strike. Most of us have barely recovered from the covid lock downs. Christmas sales aren't even a thing anymore."
I stop myself from saying more. He's doesn't get it. He's CLUE LESS. His customers are literally given to him through GP referrals. Taxes pay his base rate. Insurance and prescriptions add some extra income. Upselling botox, laser therapy and cosmetics and God knows what else is where the real money is made.
He leaves without saying good-bye or giving me an appointment card for my future cancer screening.
...
It takes another 20+ minutes before I can get my screening appointment scheduled. The receptionist and booking receptionist are not allowed to schedule me without the doctor's approval. He's busy with paying clients. I wait patiently. Dermatologists are hard to find. Even bad ones. The earliest they can get me in is the end of June next year. Okay. Be grateful. Go to the van. Tell Fred. Complain. Cry. Get it out of your system. Then be grateful that you got an appointment at all.
N.O.
I want to report him. My Ontario dermatologist never tried to sell me anything. She spotted my cancer in the middle of my rosy red face. She examines me front and back, top to bare bottom with a magnifying glass. She lectures me on using stronger sunscreen and a bigger hat, biopsies suspicious growths and lets me know the results as soon as she has them. She doesn't have any blonde models on posters covering every inch of wall space in her practice. She treats me how I'd assume she would want to be treated... like a person who is scared and vulnerable. I've always appreciated her friendly manners and her professional demeanor. Now I will appreciate my years with her even more. Thank you Dr. Carolyn Horgan-Bell. You rock.
I'm going to call you for another referral. I want to cancel my appointment with Dr. Dollar Signs and I'll need your help finding a doctor that gives a crap. One who is better at doctoring than selling.
He is right about one thing though. If I were as good at selling as he is, I would be making more money. But I can no more be like him than I could be more like a turtle. I didn't get that gene. Or the "clueless" gene. I got the "give a crap" gene. And that's how I run my business.
If you have that gene too... or even if you were clueless and perhaps learned something from this experience that I just shared... please consider supporting our small business, MadMatters. We sell good stuff and we stand behind it with courtesy, professionalism and a groovy little happy dance.
Happy Holidays!
Caroline and Fred
Thank you for caring to help keep small business and main streets alive and healthy!
Or so I thought...
The waiting room was small, crowded and full of sales posters. The receptionist handed me a pen and a form on rashes. I handed the clipboard back and informed her that I don't have a rash: "I am a new patient here for my annual cancer screening". "Doesn't matter" she says. "Fill out the form anyway. Only one issue per appointment. You're down for rosacea."
Rosacea makes me look like an overripe tomato, especially on photos. It's embarrassing, not deadly. The worst thing that could happen is that the bumps could grow to make my nose the size of Jimmy Durante's. Then I'd have to endure a painful cautery procedure. For now, I know I need to apply cream every morning and stay out of the sun.
20 minutes after my scheduled appointment time, I'm lead to an exam room where I don't need to strip because the doctor will only be looking at my face. So much for the arm pit shave and fresh deodorant. I'll have to book another appointment for the one-issue cancer screening.
Another 20 minutes pass before a med student pops in to ask the reason for my visit? "Rosacea?" I try to explain.
It feels like another 20 minutes pass before she returns with the doctor. The student is young and very pretty. Her mentor smiles at her and uses a lot of multi-syllablic words to describe my rash... er condition. I don't recall him saying anything to me other than "take off your glasses".
Mr. Derm hands me a brochure and gets a little more talkative:
"$800.00. I can clear up your rosacea in 3 treatments."
I hand the pamphlet back to him: "I don't have $800.00. I'm a small business owner. There's no money for things that aren't necessary."
"Why aren't you making money?" "Are you on Shopify?" "Have you done THIS (fill in the blank)? THIS (fill in the blank)? THIS (fill in the blank)? AND THIS (fill in the blank)? "How can it be that you have a business and aren't making tons of money?" yadayadayada
I can't answer as quickly as he speaks. He seems to think he can solve all my woes with his helpful, well-meaning advice. Then he can get my $800! I envision dollar $ and decimal points flashing behind his pupils. It feels like he's never met a patient without money... so determined is he to "upsell" me.
My brain is spinning. Emotions well up inside me.
A few yoga breaths help. But I want to give him a lecture. I'm experiencing a strong need to school him like he schooled his student. It's time to employ my own multi-syllabic arsenal of mansplaining "Mike"(mic) drops. It's sooooo tempting to take him and all 6 blonde, full colour, poster models down. More yoga breaths. "Don't cry. Don't yell. Don't Karen." I tell myself.
"Have you been downtown lately?" "Have you seen all of the empty store fronts?" I eke out. "My favourite store, Limey, closed both locations for good last month. A good friend attempted suicide this past spring after losing his business of 35 years. Don't you read the newspaper? There's a postal strike. Most of us have barely recovered from the covid lock downs. Christmas sales aren't even a thing anymore."
I stop myself from saying more. He's doesn't get it. He's CLUE LESS. His customers are literally given to him through GP referrals. Taxes pay his base rate. Insurance and prescriptions add some extra income. Upselling botox, laser therapy and cosmetics and God knows what else is where the real money is made.
He leaves without saying good-bye or giving me an appointment card for my future cancer screening.
...
It takes another 20+ minutes before I can get my screening appointment scheduled. The receptionist and booking receptionist are not allowed to schedule me without the doctor's approval. He's busy with paying clients. I wait patiently. Dermatologists are hard to find. Even bad ones. The earliest they can get me in is the end of June next year. Okay. Be grateful. Go to the van. Tell Fred. Complain. Cry. Get it out of your system. Then be grateful that you got an appointment at all.
N.O.
I want to report him. My Ontario dermatologist never tried to sell me anything. She spotted my cancer in the middle of my rosy red face. She examines me front and back, top to bare bottom with a magnifying glass. She lectures me on using stronger sunscreen and a bigger hat, biopsies suspicious growths and lets me know the results as soon as she has them. She doesn't have any blonde models on posters covering every inch of wall space in her practice. She treats me how I'd assume she would want to be treated... like a person who is scared and vulnerable. I've always appreciated her friendly manners and her professional demeanor. Now I will appreciate my years with her even more. Thank you Dr. Carolyn Horgan-Bell. You rock.
I'm going to call you for another referral. I want to cancel my appointment with Dr. Dollar Signs and I'll need your help finding a doctor that gives a crap. One who is better at doctoring than selling.
He is right about one thing though. If I were as good at selling as he is, I would be making more money. But I can no more be like him than I could be more like a turtle. I didn't get that gene. Or the "clueless" gene. I got the "give a crap" gene. And that's how I run my business.
If you have that gene too... or even if you were clueless and perhaps learned something from this experience that I just shared... please consider supporting our small business, MadMatters. We sell good stuff and we stand behind it with courtesy, professionalism and a groovy little happy dance.
Happy Holidays!
Caroline and Fred
Thank you for caring to help keep small business and main streets alive and healthy!