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Berkeley Incompetence Centre
Aug. 24th, 2006 09:19 pmExtreme warning, team, this topic's draining your life force!
I recall hearing a (quite possibly fictional) story of someone who was annoyed with his bank for refusing him a loan, so he went off and changed his name to "Yorkshire Bank Plc Are Fascist Bastards". It seemed quite an extreme solution, but after dealing with the Berkeley Health Centre I'm beginning to understand how he felt.
Last Monday I went in with a heap of medical papers from my examination in Britain, only needing them to sign a bit of paper saying that I had had all the vaccinations I needed. During the appointment, a blood sample was taken from me (which had been happening so much recently that I didn't question why it was being done) and a tuberculin test was given, even though I'd explained to the nurse about eight times that I had been vaccinated against BCG.
The Wednesday after, I came back to the health centre to have the ghastly bump that had developed on my arm read. Naturally it was a positive, and I thought that it would not be a problem - but instead the doctor told me that I then had to go and get an X-ray just to verify that I hadn't got tuberculosis, and that the test had been unneccessary. That cost us $120, as it happens.
I had the X-ray done immediately, on the understanding that they would receive it and have my form ready in three days.
On Monday, they hadn't received it.
On Wednesday, they still hadn't received it. Then they told me that it wouldn't be ready until Friday anyway, and if not that, next Tuesday. When I'm at the other end of the country.
This morning, they phoned Whitney's father saying that they had received them. I phoned them to verify it, and they couldn't find them at all. However, Malcolm (who is an absolutely terrifying man when he wants to be) had annoyed them enough to drag the civil surgeon in to the clinic, and they said that he would be in later in the morning.
I phoned them at noon. The civil surgeon hadn't been in and they had no idea where he was.
After going to lunch, we finally got a phone call from the health centre. They said that I hadn't filled out one of the forms and couldn't get it signed. So Whitney and I had to drive straight there to get it signed before he left.
I arrived at the health centre as the civil surgeon (who was a hundred years old) was talking with the receptionist about my papers. He clarified the receptionist's story about the form, saying that he couldn't sign my papers because I hadn't had a medical examination in America.
I showed him the letters from our immigration lawyer, and repeatedly explained to him that I only needed the vaccination supplement. He understood absolutely none of it, and Whitney couldn't get hold of the lawyer. Eventually Whitney managed to convince him that we only needed one sheet of paper, and he suddenly seemed to understand perfectly. "But," he asked confusedly, "If you only needed that, why did you have the blood sample and X-rays?"
I'm beginning to understand why Americans enjoy shooting each other so much.
I recall hearing a (quite possibly fictional) story of someone who was annoyed with his bank for refusing him a loan, so he went off and changed his name to "Yorkshire Bank Plc Are Fascist Bastards". It seemed quite an extreme solution, but after dealing with the Berkeley Health Centre I'm beginning to understand how he felt.
Last Monday I went in with a heap of medical papers from my examination in Britain, only needing them to sign a bit of paper saying that I had had all the vaccinations I needed. During the appointment, a blood sample was taken from me (which had been happening so much recently that I didn't question why it was being done) and a tuberculin test was given, even though I'd explained to the nurse about eight times that I had been vaccinated against BCG.
The Wednesday after, I came back to the health centre to have the ghastly bump that had developed on my arm read. Naturally it was a positive, and I thought that it would not be a problem - but instead the doctor told me that I then had to go and get an X-ray just to verify that I hadn't got tuberculosis, and that the test had been unneccessary. That cost us $120, as it happens.
I had the X-ray done immediately, on the understanding that they would receive it and have my form ready in three days.
On Monday, they hadn't received it.
On Wednesday, they still hadn't received it. Then they told me that it wouldn't be ready until Friday anyway, and if not that, next Tuesday. When I'm at the other end of the country.
This morning, they phoned Whitney's father saying that they had received them. I phoned them to verify it, and they couldn't find them at all. However, Malcolm (who is an absolutely terrifying man when he wants to be) had annoyed them enough to drag the civil surgeon in to the clinic, and they said that he would be in later in the morning.
I phoned them at noon. The civil surgeon hadn't been in and they had no idea where he was.
After going to lunch, we finally got a phone call from the health centre. They said that I hadn't filled out one of the forms and couldn't get it signed. So Whitney and I had to drive straight there to get it signed before he left.
I arrived at the health centre as the civil surgeon (who was a hundred years old) was talking with the receptionist about my papers. He clarified the receptionist's story about the form, saying that he couldn't sign my papers because I hadn't had a medical examination in America.
I showed him the letters from our immigration lawyer, and repeatedly explained to him that I only needed the vaccination supplement. He understood absolutely none of it, and Whitney couldn't get hold of the lawyer. Eventually Whitney managed to convince him that we only needed one sheet of paper, and he suddenly seemed to understand perfectly. "But," he asked confusedly, "If you only needed that, why did you have the blood sample and X-rays?"
I'm beginning to understand why Americans enjoy shooting each other so much.
