| | |  | This is the Journal of Ivan the Terribly Average
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Several topics in search of a connection. >> | |
| | | Subject: In the waiting room
Posted Nov 23, 2011 by Ivan the Terribly Average
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1
 | | I spent about an hour in the waiting room at the surgery today. My usual doctor had called in sick so things were a little less tranquil than they usually are there. But never mind; I don't mind waiting, especially when feel like death warmed over and I don't have the energy for anything other than an ostentatious display of patience.
I could have read an ancient copy of the New Yorker or something, but I decided to rest my eyes instead. I just sat there and watched people.
You hear such fascinating things in waiting rooms. You also hear mind-numbingly boring things, courtesy of the two women of a certain age who were poring over some glossy magazine or other and discussing celebrity weight loss/weight gain/dysentery or whatever it was with every indication that they thought this trash genuinely mattered.
The woman next to me was obviously employed at the government department next dor to the surgery. I could tell by the fact that she was proofreading documents from that department. Making use of downtime is one thing, but proofreading government documents in public is a damned silly idea. (They were boring documents too - I had a good read. Being longsighted has its dubious advantages.)
Then there was the double amputee in a wheelchair who would keep on rolling around the room at high speed and occasionally apologising for flattening other people's toes. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I've got nothing against feet or legs. I remember mine fondly.' That was slightly disturbing, to be honest.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room a dopey-looking girl was having a loud conversation on her mobile. 'Yeah, I got it workin' again. Didn't I tell you? I dropped the bloody phone while I was boilin' rice the other day and it stopped workin', but now the bloody thing's come good.' If anyone wants to know what sort of phone survives being boiled, it was a Nokia.
Finally, my name was called and I could escape...
(I'm at home for the rest of the week.)
 Ivan.
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