Can someone explain why doctors insist on weighing us with keys and wallets in our pockets?

It’s Wednesday, which means it’s time to get some complaints off our chest with the latest edition of The Gripe Report.

This week, we'll be discussing something that is a necessary evil, even if we all try to avoid it at all costs: going to the doctor.

No matter how healthy you are or how well you take care of yourself, you're going to end up at some kind of doctor at some point.

And while I appreciate what they do — you know, keeping me alive — I never leave the doctor, eye doctor, or dentist without some complaints.

WAIT... WHO IS ACTUALLY USING HIGHWAY REST STOP BBQ GRILLS?

Though, in fairness, it's rare I leave anywhere without some complaints.

I mean, I am the Gripe Report guy.

You’d think that scheduling a visit should be the easiest part of going to the doctor.

I thought this too until recently.

For my entire adult life to this point, making an appointment was as simple as making a phone call. Now an app has been thrown into the mix, and I wish that was the end of the problem, but it isn’t.

My doctor told me to make a follow-up virtual appointment (more on those in a second), and he originally told me the ladies at the front desk would handle this by calling me.

FROM GYM INJURIES TO TOP-40 MYSTERIES, THESE ARE FIVE TELLTALE SIGNS YOU ARE PAST YOUR PRIME

They did not.

I wrote them a message in the app, and was told to call the office.

So, I called my doctor’s office, but while this is the "front desk" number, it actually goes to some call center for the wider health system. That’s usually not a problem, but for some reason it was this time when I said I needed to schedule a virtual appointment.

The lady on the phone was helpful until I said it was supposed to be a virtual appointment, because at that point she just completely froze and told me the front desk would reach out to me and do it.

I was getting so sick of this that I knew it was inevitable that the front desk would not call and I’d have to do this same song and dance again, which I did. 

Finally, I got it scheduled, but should scheduling what amounts to a Zoom call with your doctor — who told you to set it up — require multiple phone calls, a message in an app and me muttering swear words under my breath while on hold?

Call me crazy, but I don’t think it should.

Now, while scheduling a virtual appointment is a real pain in the a--, if you can finally jump through all the hoops and solve whatever riddles they try to throw in your way, they’re great.

I’m just mad no one really told me about these sooner.

Sure, I knew they existed, but for years, I had been scheduling early-morning appointments and driving across town in rush-hour traffic like an idiot.

Not one did someone say, "Hey, this could’ve been handled without you having to come in, and also you don’t need to change out of the shorts you slept in."

I think they just thought it was funny to see me roll in early just so I could have the following exchange with the doctor:

Doctor: "Are the meds working for you?"

Me: "Yup, no problems."

Doctor: "Good… see you back here in six months."

End Scene.

I guess they started to feel bad and decided to let me in on the secret.

I know this sounds like a bit that a hacky ‘80s comic would do, but it still happens in the Year of our Lord 2026.

How? Just how?

When your job is to dig around in someone's mouth while their jaw cramps up from having to hold it wide open like they’re the guy in Edvard Munch’s "The Scream," maybe it’s not the right time to ask the patient what their summer plans are.

I try to answer because I’m not a monster, and they have to pull the little metal hook and mirror setup out of my mouth so I can say, "The wife and I are going to the beach," and it prolongs how long I have to lie in the chair being blinded by the dentist’s light. 

Personally, I’m not a fan of small talk anytime someone is doing work on me because I want them focused on the work. I feel that way about haircuts too.

I don’t mind some small talk, but when you’re poking and prodding me with metal instruments, please, please place all of your focus on that.

And while we’re talking about dentists, it drives me insane when they pick and scrape at your teeth and gums and then say, "A little bit of blood there; just be sure to keep up with flossing."

Funny because the only time my gums ever bleed is when I'm at the dentist and they repeatedly pick at them with a mini version of Candyman’s hook hand.

… Everyone remember that movie "Candyman?"

I’m a guy who could always stand to lose a few pounds, but let’s get real about the method of weighing you at the doctor.

We all know that the right way to weigh yourself is in the morning and fully nude, and if you can even work up a nice sesh on the ol’ porcelain bowl, well, that could even help you out more.

At the doctor, they don’t abide by this.

I’m not saying we should be stripping down at the doctor’s office just to get weighed. I just want them to stop weighing us with keys, wallets and phones in our pockets and our shoes on.

I don’t fall for it anymore, nor should you.

To my doctor’s credit, they scored some little end table at Goodwill or at someone’s dead grandma’s estate sale, and they plopped it right next to the scale. That way you can just empty your pockets real quick and — voila! — guess who just dropped a pound?

If I’m thinking of it, I’ll even pop my shoes off just to get that number down as low as I can, because I’m not so sure doctors ever factor this in.

"You're x pounds overweight."

No, I’m x-5 pounds overweight. It’s not my fault you weighed me with my keys, wallet, phone, shoes, jacket, and pack of fishing sinkers.

That’s significant.

Few things get my heart racing like racing to sit in that weird padded chair at one end of the room while trying to read small letters off of a mirror at the other end of the room.

For my entire life, I have suffered from what doctors refer to as "sh-tty eyesight."

So, that means that every year I go in for new contacts and glasses, and that means the pressure is on for me to crush the stupid eye chart.

Now, I don’t know why I’m like this. Maybe I’m competitive. Maybe I just like being right, but the goal of the eye chart is to help the doctor figure out what kind of prescription you need.

Not so she can be wowed by your ability to distinguish P’s from B’s at great distances.

Which, by the way, this test is diabolical in how they use letters that kind of look alike. Half the time, I just flip a coin between P’s and F’s and B’s and E’s.

Yes, my unaided eyesight is that bad.

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I put this pressure on myself, sure, but I’ve been doing it my entire life like I think that if I miss too many lines, the doctor will just throw his hands up and leave me sitting behind that bizarre eyeglass contraption.

Also, eye doctors, get rid of that thing that blows a puff of air in your eyes. I switched to a new doctor a few years ago and they have some other technology that does the same thing without drying out your eyes with blasts of air.

...

That's it for this week's edition of The Gripe Report!

Be sure to send in your gripes for the next one: matthew.reigle@outkick.com