So, this morning, I’m waiting for my dermatologist to come in, already knowing this would be the last time I would come to his office. At the previous appointment, I waited for over an hour in the waiting room, and I was mildly put off by his condescending air during the eventual appointment, but I figured I’d stick it through while he was treating my rash, then find someone else for any skin issues. My husband said, after last time, “Get rid of him. You don’t need that crap.”
“Nah. I said. I’ll wait until this rash clears up, then I’ll dump him.”
Little did I know it would be in such dramatic fashion.
This morning, as I’m waiting, I overhear him and an assistant talking about the Republican contenders, bafflingly, in what seems like support of Donald Trump. The assistant asserted how smart he was, and even more bafflingly, that he was a “people person.”
Resisting the urge to bolt, I waited for him to come into the room. I also resisted the urge to say, “Did I really just hear you guys saying Donald Trump is a people person?” I figured I’d let it go. I was here for a follow up about the persistent rash I’d gotten from too much sun at the beach.
He examines me, we discuss further treatment and medication, and we discuss some photo apps, making small talk. Then he asked me, “So! Are you going to watch the debate tonight?” I laughed and said, “I kinda have to for work.” He goes on to say how he thinks Carly Fiorina was going to shine, and what a good debater she was. I agreed she probably had the most depth out of the group.
Him: Did you see her interview with Chris Matthews?
Him: He just tried to make her look really stupid in an interview and she proved him wrong.
Me: I’ll have to watch it. (Side Note – unlikely, because Chris Matthews’ voice makes me want to gouge out my eardrums.)
Me: Did you see Jimmy Fallon as Donald Trump interviewing Donald Trump?
More small talk about how incredibly talented Jimmy Fallon was, and I was hopeful that I’d successfully steered the conversation away from politics. Wrooooong.
Him: Well, everything is going to come down to the email scandal for Hillary.
Him. Yes. All that classified information?
Me: (no longer smiling) I don’t believe she’s been found to have sent classified information. At the time it was sent it was not designated classified.
Him: How can something be not classified and then, later, be classified? And are you telling me she NEVER read anything classified on her email while she was Secretary of State? Can you explain that to me?
Me: I don’t know, but I also am not omniscient, and I realize there are ways of transmitting information at that level of which I’m unaware.
Him: Come on. You can’t believe that. Hillary Clinton is a very good liar.
Me: You know what? This is why you run late. Trying to debate politics with your patients. Let’s get back to these prescriptions so I can leave.
I stood up to leave.
He shrugged his shoulders and said, eyebrows raised in mock surprise, hands spread out before him, speaking slowly,
(Are you ready for this? Seriously, are you sitting down?)
“I’m sorry you’re offended by someone else’s opinion…”
Let’s just let that one sink in for a moment.
(Cue “Carmina Burana”)
Me: “I am NOT offended by your opinion! This is completely unprofessional of YOU TO ATTEMPT TO ARGUE POLITICS WITH YOUR PATIENTS. YOUR ATTITUDE IS CONDESCENDING AND I AM DONE.”
Him: (More fake bewilderment) How am I condescending? I was talking about Hillary Clinton, I wasn’t talking about you…if you’re so offended by my opinion…
Me: You WERE talking about me. YOU said that I’m “offended by someone else’s opinion!” THAT IS TALKING ABOUT ME, saying I can’t handle differing opinions. AND You are trying to debate me on politics when I am here as YOUR PATIENT. IT. IS. COMPLETELY. UNPROFESSIONAL.
And then I left. Without paying.
Thank god I was wearing my street clothes, and not one of those cheap-ass paper “gowns” he offers his unlucky patients. Because, I swear to god, I would have driven the hell out of there and all the way home in it.
I may or may not have told the woman in the waiting room as I left, “I hope you’re a Republican. He clearly prefers them.”
I also may or may not have asked the pharmacist when she called about the prescription to please call him back and tell him he is an idiot and an asshole. I may or may not have repeated that request to her several times. If I did those things, please allow me to state for the record that the pharmacist had a very good sense of humor about it. And, god, I hope she did it.