This Is An Awful Lot Like Dating…

“Hi, I was hoping to make an appointment with Dr. Delassandro,” said Drake to the receptionist, as he stared at the puss-filled abnormality on his face. He needed to see a dermatologist as soon as possible, as his face was getting uglier by the day, and Dr. Delassandro came highly recommended.  “Sure.  The doctor is only here on Thursdays from 9 to 1. When would you like to come in?” replied the Claire (the receptionist’s name was Claire).  This was discouraging to Drake.  His chances of being seen anytime soon appeared bleak, give the sporadic nature of the doctor’s schedule.  Drake envisioned several more weeks, if not months, of hitting on girls with a juicy, unattractive cyst on his cheek, diverting female attention away from the inner beauty and righteousness that defined Drake as an individual.

“Wow, okay. When’s the next appointment available?” asked Drake, a little disheartened.  Claire responded with the worst possible answer: “The doctor can see you this upcoming Thursday at 9AM.” Are you freakin’ kidding me? How good can this “highly recommended dermatologist” possibly be if he only works 4 hours per week, and the next available appointment is quite literally the next possible time the doctor is working?  “At least make me wait a couple of weeks!” thought Drake, as he pondered how he should proceed. “Thanks but no thanks,” he replied. “I’ll take my business to a dermatologist who can’t see me right away.”


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