We had to go to the doctor. So we went to the local county clinic. The place was filthy and the receptionist was mean as a copperhead snake. Not just rude, but Mean. The nurse was equally vicious. The room where you wait for the doctor was, well, disgusting. The exam table had moldy squares of shag carpet (vintage maybe 1974) under the feet. Why? So the feet wouldn't scratch the nice linoleum? Please. A few cheerios lay scattered about and there were two torn posters telling me that I don't have to take abuse and that I can stop drinking if I want to (I don't want to). The one fluorescent bulb flickered menacingly above my head. For some reason I thought about earthquakes. The place reeked and the smell was beyond sour; more like rotten flesh. Didn't they ever clean this place? It was vile, sorry to say. But none of these qualities compared with the awfulness of the doctor himself. He came into the exam room and at first I thought he was a deranged patient wandering loose around the joint. But no, this yahoo appeared to be The Doctor. He barely lifted his eyelids to acknowledge a patient's [my] presence in the room. His glasses hung crooked off his pasty white nose and you could have greased an entire fleet of FedEx trucks with his hair. Also, in spite of the fact that there wasn't anyone waiting, this individual was in such a rush he couldn't finish a sentence. He made it painfully obvious that he gave not one shit about anyone. He mumbled something at me and left the room with no explanation. At least not one that I could translate into English. (No, he was not from another country. He was American.) I thought, "what if I HAD to come to this clinic ALL the time. I mean, what if I had two little kids and no husband and I HAD to use this place just to get my kids' noses wiped?" So I sat there feeling lucky. Counting my blessings. I knew I didn't have to come back if I didn't want to. In fact, I thought, I could just get up and walk out. So I started to leave. I was afraid of this grubby man who had half his belly exposed because his shirt wasn't properly tucked into his trousers. Crisp white lab coat with a name tag? Forget about it. I did not like the fact that there were no diplomas on the wall. I did not like it, Sam I Am. So I made for the open. But this [alleged] doctor was too fast for me. "Get back in there," he groused. So I did. And I have now been referred to someplace else. I dread the experience, but I will go of course. It can't be worse.....can it????????? Every other encounter we have had with Municipal, State, and County offices has been civil if not pleasant—from the Library to the High Desert Water District to the Department of Motor Vehicles. People seem professional and friendly at the same time. It's neat not to be hated for being an outsider! In any event, this clinic was clearly an aberration and an experience to be survived and never repeated. I am just glad that we have the option to not ever go back. We can find a different doctor. But there are plenty of people around here who don't have a choice and HAVE to entrust their health to this clinic and that doctor. It makes me sad.