My COVID diaries: walking in someone else’s shoes

Imagine an alternate universe where receptionists, practice managers and nurses have all been abducted by aliens, and vets are forced to fend for themselves.

They can be seen roaming the corridors, searching for missing objects hiding in plain sight. At times one will seem to stall, circling on the spot, hands in the air, as he or she forgets what it is he or she was looking for. The soundtrack of a ringing telephone plays on repeat. The scary thing is, no one else is there to answer it.

I am sure the pages of your Vet Times are shuddering in your shaking hands. This is not the scene of an 18-plus horror film, but the frightening reality of many practices in lockdown.

Manning the phone

This week, I spent a day in one such practice. My job was to man the phone and tackle any query that came down the line – from repeat prescriptions to advice telephone calls and teleconsultations.

I am, in fact, a rare breed of veterinary surgeon who actively enjoys answering the phone; as a locum, I would say it is my superpower. I have always found it oddly exhilarating – you have no idea who it might be and what he or she might say. Safe to say, I was pretty sure I was going to love being a receptionist.

It started well. I perfected my phone voice and wrote a list of the actions each telephone call had generated. But each time I had finished reading the animal’s file and was ready to either give the owner a telephone call back for a teleconsultation, or had figured out what brand of flea treatment he or she needed, it went and rang again.

Within an hour, my to-do list had doubled and I had failed to tick a single item off. I decided caffeine was the answer, but within seconds of escaping my workstation I was sprinting back down the corridor to answer the phone’s persistent cry. The kettle remained cold and the only thing I had achieved so far was going for a run.

Plate spinning

By 11:30am I was certain my head was going to explode, but the phone did not care one bit and just keep on ringing, unphased by the tiny pieces of my brain spattered on the receiver.

As an emergency and critical care vet, I thought I was good at spinning multiple plates, but it turns out the veterinary receptionist is the ultimate multitasker. It is impossible to plan a task or predict the next interruption. The operating table is a sanctuary of peace compared to the reception desk, and I missed the quiet and the control.

New day, new role

Coronavirus has gifted many of us a trip in another’s shoes. Some of you woke up in March as a newly qualified schoolteacher, others have faced financial uncertainty for the first time. Maybe, like me, you got the chance to experience the challenges of a new role in your workplace.

Lockdown has not been levelling – if anything, it has magnified the divides in our society. But we will all be changed by that time spent walking in different shoes. It has taught us new and better ways to feel thankful – we just need to remember these when life goes back to normal.

I have never been more exhausted than my day spent as a receptionist. So, here is a plea to the aliens from a tired, caffeine-deprived vet – please beam our support staff back to us soon, we need them and miss them hugely.

Stay well x