05 May 2009

Privacy Where You Least Expect it.

Here's what I can recall:

She has a hard time pooping in the past but hopes diet will change that. She doesn't like the pills she takes; they stick in her throat. The last prescription cost too much and wants to switch to a cheaper one. The doctor was nicer to her yesterday than the last time, and she'll need another appointment in two weeks. Her son is seeing someone she doesn't like (Linda?). Later this week she'll be at Grand Casino; didn't catch if she was talking Hinckley Or Mille Lacs.

Beyond that I can tell you that she should consider something that resembles exercise and two tires on her Stratus need air big time. Why am I telling you all this?

This morning I went to go see my doctor for a tetanus shot and a good-old check up. Mine was the first appointment of the day. I was 10 minutes early and there was only one car in the parking lot, so I entered and (CRAZY ME!) walked to the counter to tell the staff I was there. There, a woman wearing that too-busy medical assistant garb was standing at the counter talking to another woman sitting at the computer and phone array. After waiting for maybe 30 seconds for one of them to say "hi, good morning, may I help you?" I got the scowl of the century from the woman standing at the counter and "do you need something immediately because this is a private conversation!" Turns out color-explosion smock lady doesn't actually work there, she was a patient . . . who just happens to dress like that, apparently because she chooses to(?). Yikes.

Truthfully, I was lost in my own daydreaming when I came in and didn't actually hear what she was saying to the other woman. Once she snapped I actually did start paying attention. She clearly didn't understand that I confused her with someone who worked there, which is like confusing blue-uniformed, badge-wearing people with guns and handcuffs who drive black & white cars with police officers; perfectly reasonable.

Rather than using available wit to show her up in manner that would scar her for life, I took a seat about 15 feet away, where I could hear everything she was saying as plain as if I was still standing at the counter since she made no effort to keep her voice down.

So, bottom line; my recounting of what she was trying to keep 'secret' is just me being petulant and, in a way, calling out another one of those lousy people we all have to encounter. She should perhaps take 5 seconds to look in the mirror, stop shopping at the nurses' supply store and get a clue about how to function in civil society.

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