The day starts well

An early morning appointment with a doctor located in a circumcision clinic, what could possibly be better? Or what could go wrong?

Well, as it happens, plenty. I arrive 15 minutes before the appointment (routine, and not for a circumcision, they offer other services), only to find this elegantly dressed lady struggling to comprehend the nuances of the Ontario Health System. She had, like me, been turfed out from her former doctors' practice to land here: unlike me, she had not been told she had to re-register, and so when she turned up for her appointment, she was told she couldn't go in because... she wasn't registered.

"But you made the appointment," she said, somewhat surprised.
"Yes, but you didn't tell us you weren't registered."
"But I didn't know I wasn't registered. Last year, I received a letter from you telling me this was my new clinic," she countered.
"No, that was to tell you that this would be your new clinic if you registered."
"I'm sure the letter didn't say that. Why would I not want to be registered? If you send me the letter, surely it means you have my details, and files, and everything?" she said.
"But you aren't registered."
"When I called to make the appointment, why didn't you tell me I wasn't registered?" she asked, somewhat logically.
"We can't discuss cases over the phone."
"But why did you give me this appointment, then? Surely, this means you have me in your system - and that you consider me as registered?" she added.

On an on it went, until the lady, some 20 minutes afterwards, was ushered into a private room, and all entertainment ceased. Then it was my turn.

"Hi," I opened. "I've got a 9.15 with Dr. D**(s."
"You're late," says the receptionist.
"Well," said I, "as you may be aware," said I (pointing enigmatically at the queue formed behind me), "there was an issue at this window."
"Hmmmph."
"You're not in the system," she said, somewhat coldly.
"I have the appointment card, here, in my hand," I said, thrusting the card under her nose for closer inspection. "See? September 14, 2023, 9:15. There's my name on it and everything."
Silence. Much clicking of keys.
"You're scheduled in for September 14, 2024," she said. 
"How did that happen?"
"..."
"My card says 2023," I said. 
"The receptionist must have... he's not here, the doctor... I can't explain."
"Not your day, is it?" I said.
"But the system..."
"... is only as strong as its users?" I opined. "And you told me I was late..."

So, in case you are still awake, I have to wait for a phone call and make another appointment. I can hardly stand the excitement.