My Poor Clients/ posted in: Work
After considerable thought I have come to the conclusion that many of my clients must be exceedingly poor, bless their hearts.
They do not appear to be able to afford to buy clothing that contains enough fabric to adequately cover everything on them that ought to be covered, the poor dears.
You may say that it is not my place to judge but as a veterinarian, unfortunately, I am often put in close contact with my clients’ personal parts. Therefore, I tend to notice these things more than say, a bank teller would. If you bring in your small dog or cat, you put them on the table. I’m across the table and I’m looking down at your Precious – and your cleavage. If Fluffikins decides to hide from me, guess who has to gently remove her from between your breasts without being accused of copping a feel? Seriously, there should be a class on this in vet school. It is a skill.
People with big dogs aren’t exempt. Then I’m on the floor while they may be on a chair so I’m at chest level to the owners. Or, their dog decides to hide between their legs adding crotch extraction to my job skills. Let’s not forget the energetic dog that the owner tries to hold which makes me worry if there is about to be a wardrobe malfunction.
I’ve requested that we post signs on the front doors saying that we require breasts to be covered before entering. I’ve offered to get large coats from the thrift store to give to clients who seem to have forgotten large portions of their clothing at home like fancy restaurants that loaned out jackets and ties used to do. My suggestions usually just remind my male boss that he needs to spend more time in the exam rooms.
I’m not sure if all this exposure is turning me into a prude or a connoisseur. I feel very strongly now that if you are going to have your naughty bits all up in my face that you should have appropriate foundation undergarments. I understand that time and gravity take their toll but bra technology is amazing nowadays. Scaffolding is available. There is no reason to have your nipples at your waist. Yeah, I’m talking to you, 80+ year old lady in the strapless sundress who chose that day to go au naturale and to all the ladies obviously wearing a stretched out piece of cheapo lingerie that you bought 20 years ago.
I wish I could write prescriptions to fix this. “Yes, Fluffy needs this antibiotic for her skin and I need to refer you to Marlene down at Macy’s. She’ll measure you for an appropriate bra. They are having a sale next week. I’ll schedule you an appointment.”
Two of our best recent client stories involve ladies who were obviously “poor”.
The first was told to me by a male technician. (This proves that it is not just me that notices these things.) He set up the story by saying that it involved a lady who “was under the impression that the shirt she was wearing was a dress.”
She brought in a new kitten. She said it was 6 months old at registration. When he got it out of the carrier it appeared younger so he asked her if she was sure on the age. She said that she was because it had been born in May. It was August at the time. (Go ahead, do the math. Count on your fingers. Recheck it a few times. I’ll wait.)
Unless the kitten had gone off time traveling for a bit in July, it was 3 months old. This matters because 3 month olds and 6 month olds do not receive the same vaccinations. It was the size of a 3 month old and had the baby teeth that a 3 month old would have. He pointed this out. She insisted it was born in May and was 6 months old.
He went and got the doctor. He told her the trouble and she checked. It was 3 months old. The owner insisted it was 6 months. Finally the owner’s friend, who had been quiet up to this point, turned to her friend and yelled, “I TOLD YOU that you need to quit smoking so much weed! It is messing with your brain!”
I had a client, who fussed with her clothes continuously because she was seconds away from a wardrobe malfunction at any given time, bring in two kittens. She said they were sisters. She had had one for a few weeks and then she went back to the same place a few days ago and got the other. The new kitten was 1 pound smaller than the first kitten. The new kitten was very skinny but that wouldn’t explain the size difference entirely. They looked like there was about a month difference in ages. I asked her, “Are you sure these girls are littermates?”
She replied in a sad voice, “Yes, I just got the second one and I haven’t had time to set up a second litter box.”