Whenever I attend a social event, at least 10 to 20 percent of the attendees (second- or third-level friend or family connections) come to me with casual consultation requests.

To me, casual consultation requests are kind of similar to advertisements on free apps, with one difference: the time after which the skip button surfaces is highly variable and can be followed by multiple ads with no rhyme or reason.

What this does is take up more than 30 to 50 percent of my time at these events and leads to constant context switching. Ultimately, my experience becomes completely diluted since I have no control over what I want to do and who I want to talk to.

I remember one time, at a cousin’s wedding, right in the middle of enjoying my favorite plate of biryani, someone pulled me aside. They rolled up their sleeve and asked me to check out a rash. I obliged, thinking it would be a one-off, but by the end of the night, I felt like I had diagnosed more moles than I had meaningful conversations.

And it’s not just weddings. I’ve had people ask me about their skin concerns during festivals, casual dinners with friends, or even while I was sitting in an auto-rickshaw. To make matters even more awkward, I’ve had aunties (for some reason, it’s usually the aunties) ask me to examine rashes in their most private areas, often in the kitchen or some equally random corner during family get-togethers—where I’m left wondering how to escape without creating a scene.

I love the field of dermatology, and I enjoy helping solve skin problems. But I don’t enjoy being bombarded with unsolicited casual consults everywhere I go.

I understand that this is the nature of my profession and that other health professionals may also be facing this to an extent. However, I think that this is more rampant in dermatology. Non-skin health concerns are either too complex to be discussed, or their frequency is less than skin conditions.

With skin, all a person needs to do is point and ask, “How do I fix this?”

What’s worse is that I think the problem lies in my not understanding that not everyone is capable of the level of empathy I need them to have.

Then there’s the tricky part when people want a second opinion, hoping I’ll confirm—or contradict—another doctor’s diagnosis. They share their medical history, lab results, treatments, and whatnot, expecting me to give a definitive answer on the spot. Without access to their full records and a proper examination, it’s just not possible. Plus, giving medical advice like that blurs professional boundaries and accidentally creates a doctor-patient relationship, making us liable if things go wrong.

I’m sure it’s not just dermatologists who experience this. I’ve heard similar stories from colleagues in other fields—a physician getting asked about chronic constipation during a family dinner or an orthopedic surgeon fielding questions about joint pain at a community event. It seems like no matter what field you’re in, these casual consults follow you everywhere.

Many doctors I’ve spoken to have developed their ways of handling these requests. Some simply hand out their business cards and suggest scheduling an appointment. Others explain how it’s difficult to offer proper advice without the right tools or lighting and that a thorough examination in the clinic would be best. And then there are a few who directly say “no,” which is a completely valid (and empowering) response. After all, you wouldn’t expect an engineer to draft blueprints at a party.

Alpana Mohta is a dermatologist in India.