Another Day in the Waiting Room

Warning: I am in fine form today. My words are sharp and on target, though far from politically correct. If you want watered-down PC crap, go somewhere else, because I don’t subscribe to that mumbo jumbo.

Today as I walked out of the elevator on the third floor of my doctor’s office, I knew I was in for quite an entertaining wait. There was already a line in the hallway of grumpy old farts, and I do mean grumpy. I was a bit ticked at myself for not being first today, but I soon realized that would not have been possible with this crowd. (Also, I’d like to be clear that not everyone in my book gets the opportunity to be called a “fart” by me; just the crotchety, idle seniors who would be labeled “jerk,” “meanie,” and several derogatory terms in their younger days. They are afforded the niceties of being labeled a “fart” by attaining an amazing age despite their lack of social grace.)

Scanning the hallway, the first one in line was an old bow-legged man, as wide as he was tall, shifting back and forth, hands in pockets, with his wife standing statuesque next to him with her arms crossed. Next to them was a white-haired woman sitting on the floor spouting off her dislike of the situation non-stop.

Thankfully there were two more people buffering me from them, because I sincerely wanted the freedom to laugh to myself over their antics, and they didn’t disappoint my desire for premium material.

The seated woman just kept coming with volley after volley of anti-doctor, anti-society, and anti-Bush statements that took everything I had to both not laugh out loud and tell her how unfounded and idiotic her ideas and feelings were.

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Waiting Room Humor: I’m Here for a Hearing Aid

Waiting roomYesterday I had my monthly visit to the ear, nose, and throat specialist. It’s a joyful trip that includes getting off work around noon (sometimes I go back to the office) and sitting outside in the hall before the door opens from their lunch.

Without fail, people still check the door to see if it’s locked… as if I’d be sitting on the floor in front of the door with a book if it was open. Yesterday was no exception. What made this visit more special was that it must have been a coupon week for patients over the age of 70. Not a one could have possibly have been in their 60s. One little old lady shouted out to her caretaker that she was born in March of 1915. Yeah, really old.

The humor arose when the deaf people all started to try to talk to each other. Normally not funny, I know, but read on to see how it happened.

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