I get no joy in going to the doctor.
I get no joy in having my feet poked with needles.
I get no joy having to piss in a tube.
I get no joy in having to walk all the way back to the surgery to deliver said piss tube.
I get no joy in being told by the receptionist that I shouldn’t have dropped it off today because “the courier doesn’t come on Fridays, they only come Monday to Thursday”. I am told this three times despite me responding that no one informed me that the courier operates a strict four-day week and besides this is no concern of mine. Perhaps they should use a better courier and operate a five-day system? But I do not say this as I do not want to get kicked off the surgery books.
So I head out back in the cold, piss tube delivered under duress, verbal admonishment delivered by the receptionist like I’m a naught school boy who hasn’t done his homework (I’m 53 and I have done my homework, I pissed in a tube as requested) and shake my head in disbelief in what I’ve just witnessed.
Welcome to Friday…