Dumber than a squashed zucchini (part II)
At almost every visit to our office, Bob embarrasses himself or my staff. When he came in for his last physical, he was handed a one-page Review of Systems form to complete while sitting in the waiting room. The Review of Systems form lists dozens of symptoms from headache to ingrown toenails. The patient then circles any complain he or she may suffer so that I can discuss it during the office visit. Ten minutes after receiving his form, Bob strolled up to my receptionist and said loud enough for the whole waiting room to hear, "What is imPOtency? I-M-P-O-T-E-N-C-Y?"
Yes, he even spelled the word in a booming voice, lest anyone in the waiting room missed it the first time. My receptionist turned three shades of red before responding, "Bob, if you have to ask what it is, you probably don't have it."
Not taking the hint, Bob said, "But I don't know if I have it or not. Do you know if I have imPOtency?"
By this time, the whole waiting room was snickering and elbowing each other, all watching to see how my receptionist handled the question.
"I don't know, nor do I want to know," came the snappy reply of my receptionist. "Why don't you discuss this with Dr. Burbank when you're back in the exam room and have more privacy."
Instead, Bob began asking patients in the waiting room if any of them knew what imPOtency was? Meanwhile, my receptionist snatched my nurse, who was in the middle of an EKG, and demanded, by threat of death, that she get Bob back to an exam room before every patient in the waiting room fled for the elevator.
Once he was in the room, I explained to Bob what IMpotency was. He laughed and said, "Ohh. I don't have that. I do just fine with the ladies, know what I mean?"
Okay. Too much information.
Bob then added, "Why didn't your receptionist or somebody in the waiting room tell me what it meant? Must be none of them knew either."
I moved our discussion to his in-grown toenail!