Oh the precious sounds of women gossiping, its music to the ears. Us women love a good old gossip over a nice hot cup of tea, to make it even better add a tin of biscuits or selection of cakes into the mix and BANG heaven. However I do believe that there is a time and a place for it. That time not being when I need to go for a health check and the place being the GP. I felt I should have been armed with a camera to document the strange creatures that are gossips.
I was first introduced to this bizarre world when I first went to register at the new GP as I have recently moved. Never an interesting experience, in fact since I have been pregnant I have seen more doctors and nurses then I have in my entire life. I have never been more prodded or probed before. What makes it worse is that I hate doctors and now my daily life is filled with appointments. As I made my way to reception I was faced with three middle-aged women chatting away like nobody’s business. They all had the same blonde bob hair cut and I found their perfume overpowering, a strong scent of age and knowing better I think was the brand. The GP wasn’t busy so I didn’t think much of them talking as they are only human. My presence didn’t seem to faze them and I hate doing that annoying cough to get people’s attention, so I waited until they addressed me. After what felt like a century one of them finally spoke to me and said “How can I help you?” clearly annoyed that I had stopped their little chat about some woman called Mary whose daughter had just gotten married and wore the most outrageous outfit at the wedding. When I told the woman I wanted to register as a new patient she looked at me as if I had asked her to chop both her legs off, a sheer look of pain passed over her orange wrinkled face as she huffed through a pile of papers. After a few minutes she felt the need to get up and walk to the open room to side and continue chatting to another co-worker about Mary’s daughter’s wedding reception and how bad the food was, leaving me waiting. I couldn’t help but feel I was being a nuisance and for a spilt second felt guilty I had asked her to do her job. After about five minutes she slowly walked back to the counter and handed me a piece of paper. The same piece of paper she had when she went to gossip with her friend. She then said something about filling the form in and bringing in proof of address along with ID before waving me away. I didn’t know how to feel but grateful she had given me what I came in for. I’m not the type of person to push someone to do their job, I feel if I do that it makes them go ten times slower and I am a reasonable person. I know working can be a pain but I always smile at people and am extremely polite. I tried not to think much about it and found it more amusing than anything. Now every single time I go into the GP it’s the same routine. The same three women sitting there chatting. Occasionally accompanied by a few other members of staff. They will have cups of tea in their hands, be leaning up against the counter, ignoring everyone and loudly chatting about other people’s dirty laundry. Sometimes it’s literally about dirty laundry, Vanish is good for stains apparently. Who knew! I am tempted to secretly film them and make a documentary but that would be silly, right? In a way I do find the environment comforting and cosy but feel they should maybe tone it down a bit and not ignore people waiting to be seen. I don’t think I have experienced anything like it. If you have ever seen Faulty Towers then you will know of Basil’s wife, Sybil. The receptionists at my GP are exactly like that, saying “Oh I know” every five seconds. It’s odd but comical. In a way it helps make the whole experience less painful, I wonder if I bring in a tin of biscuits they would give me a job? I could gossip all day, drink endless cups of tea and take life at a leisurely pace. Be a dream job in a way.
Bunny’s Pause 