Rate the wait: What I learned in waiting rooms

I have a long relationship with waiting rooms. I’ve attended medical appointments for three kids, two dogs, one cat, and one husband. For nearly a decade, I also waited in rooms with my dad, which was tricky because he had dementia and couldn’t remember why we were there.

Less than a year after Dad died, my mother (who has always been an overachiever) got diagnosed with not one but two separate, unrelated cancers — a shock that sent us down a winding road filled with waiting rooms in two different cancer clinics in two cities that are three hours apart.

Spoiler alert: Everyone is doing well now and enjoying good health again. The waiting rooms were well worth the outcome, so you won’t hear me complaining. But as a caregiver and experienced medical appointment chaperone, I know there are millions of people who are still waiting—either for themselves or alongside someone they love. So here’s a coping mechanism I developed during my time spent in waiting rooms: Don’t hate the wait. Rate the wait.

Using the checklist below, add one point for a waiting room with the elements listed below, and then add bonus points as instructed.

Space: Waiting is hard enough without doing it crammed up against a crowd of strangers. The ideal waiting room has enough room between seating groups to allow for sneezes that won’t trigger a pandemic. Time drags in sardine-like settings. (Add a bonus point for any waiting room big enough that you could do a cartwheel without bumping into furniture. But don’t actually do the cartwheel — unless you get really great medical news, in which case, go for it.)

Furniture: Comfort is key during a long wait. A good waiting room should have adequately cushioned seating so you won’t develop a case of butt paralysis while waiting. (In medical settings, I give an extra point for vinyl seats because it allows me to assume that the chairs are being wiped down with a disinfectant after the clinic closes.)

Windows: Not many waiting rooms have them, but windows that let in natural light make a huge difference during long waits. Instead of feeling trapped in a box, you can watch the world go by, the rain roll in, or the breeze through the trees. (Give an extra point for any bird feeders, flowers, or pretty fountains placed outside the waiting room’s windows.)

Modern must-haves: It’s 2025, so no one reads those ancient magazines. What we need are nearby side tables to set down our water bottles or caffeinated beverages. We need access to hand disinfectant and boxes of tissues that don’t feel like a sandpaper assault on our sniffly noses. (Because we’ve become a smartphone society, give an extra two points for any waiting room with a free charging station to juice up your low phone battery.)

A Goldilocks bathroom: Long waits plus caffeinated beverages means many of us might need a restroom. The best waiting rooms have what I call a “Goldilocks bathroom,” meaning it’s nearby but not so close that everyone in the waiting room can hear what’s happening behind that bathroom door. (Add an extra two points if it’s super clean and fully stocked with tissue, soap, and a reliable way to dry your hands that doesn’t involve the front of your pants.)

Clear signage: As a directionally challenged person, I’ve never met a doctor’s office I couldn’t get lost in. If not for the help of kind nurses, I’d probably still be at last week’s appointment — trying to navigate the labyrinth of hallways between the exam room and the exit. Clinics need idiot-proof signage. (Add an extra three points for waiting room signage that has Wifi information as well as a friendly reminder that says, “Please don’t take phone calls or watch videos on speaker.”)

Truth tellers: Psychologists say that when people understand the reason for a wait, it’s easier to take. And when we have an estimate of how long it might take, we feel more in control because it gives us the power to decide whether to wait or reschedule. That’s why it’s so important to have front desk receptionists tell us the hard truth about long waits and give an explanation when they can, such as “A motorcycle gang drove into an active hay thrasher, so the doctors are busier than usual.” Patients become impatient when it feels like we’re being treated as if our time doesn’t matter. (Add an extra 5 points for kind, honest receptionists who treat you like a guest and not like a nuisance.)

After you scope it out, total the points and rate the wait. If the scores are low, you can — calmly and respectfully — tell the doctor or a clinic manager about your experience in hopes that feedback will lead to improvements. (Keep in mind that it’s never okay to be an adult-sized toddler who throws a hateful temper tantrum, no matter how long you wait.)

If the scores are good, tell the people who work there that they’re awesome and that you appreciate them. I can promise you that they don’t hear it nearly as often as they deserve.

Gwen Rockwood is a syndicated freelance columnist. Want to add something to the waiting room checklist? Email her at gwenrockwood5@gmail.com. Her book is available on Amazon.