I showed up at the doctor's office, yet again, with a zit from hell. The receptionist asks why I'm there, leaving me to wonder if all those privacy laws really do apply. I tell her what it is and that it's in a very delicate place, and then she dutifully writes what I say.
The doctor asks to see it, does his contracted duty, and send me on my way healed. And without the unnecessary though completely expected lecture regarding STDs. If that's not worth a card, I don't know what is.