If you are a 30ish, solidly middle-class, slightly yuppie mom, and you bring your cute-as-a-button four-year-old into the emergency room at ten o'clock at night on an evening where pediatrics is completely SLAMMED with sick kids (including one whose VP shunt is clogged and who is lethargic and vomiting, and a sickler with severe pain, and several whooping babies), you are not allowed to complain about the wait.
Especially when the complaint is "stomach pains" and your kid is running around the waiting room, terrorizing everyone.
ESPECIALLY when you and your stomach pain kid are sitting in my little triage cubicle and the kid is SHOVELING strawberry-filled sandwich cookies (but they're ORGANIC so they're GOOD FOR YOU) into his freaking little pie hole as fast as he can chew. Seriously, crumbs everywhere. And when I ask him, "Honey, can you point to where it hurts?" the kid shakes his head and keeps shoveling. "So, Mom, any vomiting or diarrhea? Fever? No? Nothing? Eating normally?" (obviously...)
You are especially not allowed to say to your kid, while waiting in the ER, when he is whining to you about how he wants to go home, that HE (again, four years old) should come over to ME and tell ME HOW SICK HE IS FEELING. Do you really think I can't hear you? And it's not acceptable to come back to my door every time I open it to see another patient and ask again and again how much longer until you're seen. And please don't try to be assertive or whatever by saying, "I really want him to be seen soon. I'm sure you can make that happen."
Lady, we all want things. Right now I want a bag full of hundred-dollar bills and some heroin but THAT'S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN EITHER.