Let’s start with this uncomfortable truth: this one is on both of us.
On your side: Please be on time. Please be honest about what you’re actually booking the appointment for. And if you’re running late, please call like you live in a civilized society and not the Wild West.
If you tell my staff, “It’s because my kid’s ear hurts,” but what you really mean is, “I want to talk about my son being kicked out of his third daycare and how he may be possessed by a demon or at least needs a neuropsych eval”… that’s a different visit.
I am absolutely happy to talk about behavior, daycare expulsions, possible ADHD, your mother-in-law’s unsolicited commentary, and why every preschool thinks they’re running a psychiatric triage unit now—but I need to block off the appropriate time.
An earache visit is usually: Focused, quick exam, diagnosis, treatment. A “my child is about to be kicked out of yet another daycare” visit is:
History, behavior patterns, school/daycare dynamics, family stress, comorbidities, often referrals, and frequently tissues. Those are not the same appointment. When you downplay the reason for the visit, you don’t “save time”; you create a domino effect that makes everyone else late, frustrated, and ready to torch the Google reviews.
So yes: If you’re going to need extra time, say so.
If you’re late, call. If you want three problems addressed in one visit, don’t pretend it’s one problem and then blame the doctor when the schedule implodes.
Now let’s move to my own profession, where the circus really starts.
When the problem is the doctor (and their fantasy schedule)
Sometimes the lateness problem is not the patients. It’s the doctor who has no idea:
How long it actually takes them to do… anything. How many patients they can sanely see in a day. How time works, generally. There are physicians who schedule like they’re auditioning for a productivity podcast instead of practicing medicine. Ten-minute slots, packed back-to-back, with no buffer, no allowance for complex visits, no allowance for actual human interaction.
I wish those doctors’ office managers could sit down with them and say, very calmly:
“Maybe you don’t need to schedule [x] number of patients today. Maybe you need fewer patients and fewer meltdowns.”
But here’s the catch: a lot of office managers aren’t allowed to say that. They’re told to maximize “production.” Translation: schedule until the doctor is drowning, the staff is miserable, and the patients are writing long, rage-filled Yelp reviews during their 47-minute wait.
Some doctors: Genuinely underestimate their own limitations. Feel guilty shortening visits, so they run late and then blame “the schedule.” Or they say yes to everything—walk-ins, follow-ups, emergencies—then act shocked when the day explodes.
And yes, there are doctors who prioritize the wrong patients at the wrong times in ways that make you want to walk out. Ask me how I know.
My own experience: why I walked out:
I once had the very first appointment of the day with a specialist. 8am appointment. I did what responsible humans do: Got there early. Checked in. Sat down, expecting that “first appointment” meant “I’ll be seen first.”
I watched the next six patients arrive after me and be taken back one by one. No explanation. No update. Just the slow realization that I was becoming set dressing in the waiting room.
Fifteen minutes after my scheduled time, with zero communication, I walked out.
The receptionist literally ran after me: “Why are you leaving? I told her and she said “but the doctor likes to see all his post-op patients first.”
I said: “If that’s the case, why did you schedule me for 8am and tell me I was the first appointment?”
That’s not “running a little behind.” That’s:
Intentionally stacking the deck. Prioritizing a different category of patients. And pretending time is just a suggestion for everyone else.
I never went back. Not because he was a bad doctor clinically—I never got that far—but because I don’t trust doctors who run their offices like that. If you disrespect my time up front, I have to wonder what else you’re cutting corners on.
What should actually happen
Here’s how this could work in a semi-rational medical universe:
On the patient side: Say what you’re really coming in for. If it’s more than one issue, say that too. If you know it’s going to be complicated (school issues, behavior, chronic concerns), ask for an extended or dedicated visit. Call if you’re running late so we can adjust.
On the doctor/office side:
Build schedules that reflect reality, not fantasy.
Acknowledge that some visits need more time and block it accordingly. Stop pretending every patient is a quick ear check when you know you’re running a therapy session, a school advocacy meeting, and a diagnostic consult in one. Communicate when priorities change. If post-op patients are going first, say so when you schedule. Don’t let your “first appointment” sit and watch half the county go ahead of them.
You deserve honesty about time. We deserve honesty about what you’re actually here for.
And everyone deserves a medical system that treats time like it matters—as much as your kid’s ear, behavior, and sanity.