Monday, Monday

Those who have known me for more than half an hour know that I don’t do well with showing up late–or having (most) others show up late. Fred was born nearly two weeks late and one wag noted that would be the last time my child would dare to keep me waiting. (No, it’s not true that I tapped my foot in irritation the entire two weeks).

Today, I wound up being two hours late for work but found the little escapade in which I was involved almost amusing. My immigration physical of Saturday required some corollary lab work and I showed up where and when I’d been directed. Each step of the process included a modicum of wait time (but since I had no specific appointment, there is no “running late” qualification I would level) and this seemed to disturb everyone else way more than it did me. My goodness, a whole 15-minute wait in a blood drawing lab on a Monday morning! Unheard of, in my country, but not because of the length but because of the brevity.

And the plush surroundings! Instead of being thrown along a wall to have one’s blood drawn while seated on a stool in line with six or more other patients, there were individual roomettes, each with a huge easy chair.

The x-ray department (required to visit to catch any signs of importing tuberculosis) was jammed full, but again, moved with steadiness. And once I’d got checked in, it was less than five minutes before I was getting zapped. This would have been an all-day affair in my old life, given the level of form-completion each staff member was required to make on my behalf. And not a single worker complained at, ignored, or looked through me.

Wow.

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