Sunna Jonsdottir
I called this morning after a missed call about rearranging my cat’s spaying appointment. Later, when I realised the new time clashed with my schedule, I called back to adjust it. Instead of the usual process of confirming my cat’s name, the receptionist insisted on having his exact date of birth. I told her I knew it was in June and asked if his full name would be sufficient, she said no and continued to insist on the exact date. I asked for a moment to check, as I genuinely couldn’t recall it immediately due to pregnancy brain fog and juggling a busy schedule. She immediately put me on hold. When she returned, she was already impatient that I didn’t have the information yet, then put me on hold again. When I asked if there was an issue, she replied, exact words “No, I’m just surprised you don’t have that information.” The tone was dismissive and unnecessarily patronising. I hung up and called back. The second receptionist was the complete opposite, professional, patient and genuinely helpful. She confirmed everything using my cat’s name without any issue and handled the call exactly as expected. The contrast between the two interactions was stark. One felt needlessly shaming at a time when I’m already exhausted and overstretched, the other reflected proper professionalism and care.
