Being told I had cataracts was actually good news. Now I had an answer as to why my night vision was getting blurry. And I knew there was a surgical procedure to correct it.
My initial visit to the ophthalmologist with respect to customer service in healthcare was fascinating. Five gen-z clerks at the front desk, manning phones, scanning computer screens. Three more staff fitting customers into eyeglasses in the nearby optometry area. Several other staff popping into and out of offices along the hallway. This was a huge, bustling office.
The surgery coordinator sat at the other end of the L-shaped front desk. Barely looking up at me when I told her why I was here, she asked a series of curt questions, then pointed out where I should take my seat. She looked at me so sparingly that I could not have told you the color of her eyes.
Over the next 15 minutes, I was struck by the sheer number of staff moving up and down the hallway. Each calling out a name from the waiting room. Greeting them quickly, then escorting them to a side office. There was a similarity in introductions: a matter of factness with courtesy to be sure. But very few “smiles”. It wasn’t that they weren’t friendly, but there was something missing… My technician was matter-of-fact as well, cordial too, but not what I would call, “ friendly”. The second tech I had to see was also “down to business” but even less cordial than the first tech I dealt with.
When I came back in to get my eyes measured, once again observing the comings and goings, my initial feelings were reinforced, there was an aura of “pleasant-down-to-business”, a well-run office, but with an absence of warmth.
The “no-nonsense”, stress on efficiency and speed left little time for social interaction. That certainly held true for the woman who measured my eyes. As pleasant as she was, she wouldn’t engage in any chit-chat at all.
Three days prior to my surgery date, I received an urgent call from the surgery coordinator to come in for a “remeasurement”. The doctor didn’t like the initial set.
I asked for 4:45: the next day, she said last appt is 4:30. I explained I couldn’t get there by then, due to my work schedule. She repeated the last appt was 4:30. When I explained that it was their error in me needing a new measurement, that perhaps some accommodation might be considered, she robotically repeated 4:30…I acquiesced to that time, realizing, any further conversation was useless. Then I called back shortly to speak with the manager. I was certain some accommodation could be arranged. After telling her what happened, she said of course you can come in at 4:45…we’ll wait for you, don’t worry.
As friendly and helpful as the manager was, I couldn’t help wonder how much time (if any) she spent on customer service in healthcare training for the rest of the staff.
When I arrived for the remeasurement, it was much quieter than my last visit. Only two staff were at the front desk, chatting away. When I spoke up to let them know I was here, one of them flashed a hostile look, pointing to a sign on the counter that said, “Sign in and be seated”, which in itself told me genuine customer service was being replaced for supposed convenience for the staff at the front desk.
As I took my seat, I wondered for a moment if I’d made the right decision regarding this doctor. Your staff reflect on you, after all…That thought was fleeting; the ophthalmologist had come highly recommended. And most of the staff were reasonably pleasant…
And fortunately, this tech was friendlier than the prior staffer, spending much more time on the measurement. She seemed to enjoy her job more as well.
The waiting room in the Surgery Center was nearly full. Both receptionists busy assisting patients with various forms. Unlike the doctor’s office staff, they were smiling, actively helping each patient get started. When my turn came, I joked about my age and to my surprise, she joked right back. A nice change from the vibe down the hall.
Inside, the twosome that handled me were each meticulous and attentive, carefully listening to how I answered. But they were light-hearted about it and happy to accommodate my small requests (raising the headrest, a glass of water…) willing too, to joke with me, which I particularly liked.
The minor surgery went very well. In recovery, it occurred to me that this customer service process had played out before. In past surgeries of mine, I’d invariably noticed an improvement in customer service once I got to the surgery area itself.
It seems more time is spent on customer service training in surgery centers than doctor’s offices which, to a certain degree is understandable…the stakes are higher for sure, but that shouldn’t equate to a less than excellent customer service in the office itself.
In this case the office, healthcare customer service was certainly adequate and well-run, except for the surgery coordinator, but a certain amount of training on customer service and prioritizing communication basics would go a long way.
Rick Grassi
The Little Customer Service Book
A Common Sense Guide to Helping People
Recommended Links:
https://thelittlecustomerservicebook.com/
https://thelittlecustomerservicebook.com/2025/12/21/customer-service-thats-above-beyond/
https://thelittlecustomerservicebook.com/2023/03/19/customer-service-for-boomers-vs-gen-z/
https://thelittlecustomerservicebook.com/2023/06/17/warmth-in-customer-service/
