I always feel like I'm part of the heard in this practice. I get shuffled from person to person as they throw papers at me for signature, verify all my information repeatedly and shoo me away to wither in the waiting room. The music stinks, the magazines are outdated and the woman next to me smells like mothballs.
But wait! There's more.
Before I give up hope, I'll be escorted into a cold waiting room to undress and wait just a little longer. The fun starts as the PA and medical assistant scans my body with their tools, all the while taking pictures and scrutinizing me for having tattoos and wearing perfume. Yay.
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