The Receptionist

I had cause to attend a medical specialist on Tuesday. Last time I was there, a largish woman of indeterminate age with a broad Australian accent spent the entire time while I was in the waiting room discussing the difficulties of her ongoing renovations over the telephone. Loudly.

When I arrived this time, she was at the reception again. I interrupted her conversation by entering the waiting room and I heard her say “Just a tic love.” as I walked in. She took my name and asked me to have a seat and went back to her conversation. It was the exact same conversation as last time. I kid you not! This woman was having the exact same conversation that she had had three months earlier.

Happily, I had my laptop with me, so I made notes.

It appears that Mick is the builder. Mick has been somewhat lapse in installing the appropriate appliances. The fridge was a particularly sore point. I have to assume that it’s one of those fridges that needs to be “plumbed in” or installed in some way. My notes of her conversation say, for example, “So I said to him, I just want a fridge. It’s Christmas Mick. I mean I just want a fridge. I’m sick of trying to do everything with a bloody bar fridge.” there was a pause, followed by, “Yes! Yes! I know! Well I’m not gonna have a fridge now, am I?”

Later the conversation moved on to tiling. This was not a happy conversation either.

“He said he wouldn’t commission that because I suppose it’s not viable for him cost-wise so I suppose it’s just stuff you! … Yes! Well he’s trying to say that it’s because of where I got the tiles which was where he was gonna get them anyway.”

And finally, before my doctor called me in, I noted this

“Well that’s just pointless anyway. … YES! That’s what I said! … Oh I just said don’t bother NIck. Don’t bother. I’ve got the answer to my questions.”