So, I’m assuming that it is safe to assume we have all been to some type of office building in our lives. You know the routine: walk in close enough to on time to not be late, find the secretary sitting at her desk, alert her of your presence, and take the proverbial deep breath and wait. Read some magazines if it tricks your mind into believing time is really relative on a Tuesday morning at 9:30 a.m., go ahead.
Of course, I have done this ad nauseam in my life, always following the same procedure. But on this Tuesday morning, breaking the ebb and flow of a visit to the dentists’ office, the secretary unexpectedly chose to throw out the previously agreed upon handbook of patient-professional etiquette and ignore my looming presence.
“Is she asleep?” I mumbled to myself while standing there as noticeably impatiently as I possibly could. One minute, three minutes, then five minutes had passed before I finally spoke up and watched the secretary leap and yell like an axe murderer had just stuck his face in her view after some well-timed ominous music.
Personally, I found it about fifty-percent amusing that after a series of knuckle taps on the desk, accompanied by a few deep “excuse me” grunts, the preoccupied woman still hadn’t noticed that a patient entered the room.
What was it keeping her attentions so firmly engaged? Texas Hold’em poker, that’s what.
After my fed-up “Hello!?” the secretary jumped, turned and replied with four words that turned an irritating morning into a complete parade of agonizing incompetency.
“Can I help you?” she sharply asked back, as if to hint that my arrival had just thrown mud on her entire day.
“Yes, you can. But will you? That’s the question I want answered.”
I watched as the secretary pulled out her overly large clipboard used to keep log of patient names. The top of the paper said “Tuesday” and one name was written underneath – mine.
With my eyes still rolling and my fingers still tapping, I said, “Wow. You all are a bit busy today. Maybe I should come back.”
“Just go have a seat. The dentist will see you in a minute.”
Immediately after briskly giving me my walking orders, the secretary returned to her previous position, let out a world-record-breaking sigh of disenchantment, and began fervently clicking her mouse and drumming her keys. My guess: she missed out on a big Hold’em hand opportunity and blamed me for my gross offense. How dare I interrupt her packed day with something so frivolous! I should be shot.
Fifteen minutes later, I was in the chair having my teeth cleaned. The thought repeatedly crossed my mind to alert the dentist of his aloof secretary, but it’s a mighty task to speak coherently with wads of Styrofoam shoved into your orifice. Instead, I was perfectly content to get out of there and forget the incident altogether.
But it is still nagging away at my very soul. A secretary for a dentist makes decent money, I supposed; and even if she doesn’t clear that much, I’m positive her salary is quite sufficient for a home computer. What’s the deal with hunting for the best casino bonus online when she’s supposed to be seating people? That’s it: see that they’ve arrived, seat them, alert the dentist and go on about your day. It’s not rocket science by a long shot.
I understand the love of gambling. I certainly identify with wanting to find appealing ways to pass the time. But at some point enough has to be enough. There’s no good reason for ignoring a job to that extent, especially when so many unemployed people would leap at the chance to do something so simple for a paycheck.