relational cesspool

I think this is a story about not being polite.  But it might be a story about being decisive.

Today I had an appointment at 3:30.  I arrived at the appointment on time, five minutes early perhaps.  In spite of my disorganization I am usually on time.  I smiled at the receptionist.  She said, She'll be with you in a minute.  I smiled again and nodded and wandered around in the reception room looking looking looking with growing trepidation.  An inner voice asking me to leave.  I tried to ignore it because it would be impolite to cancel an appointment right when it's time for the appointment to begin.

But she was late.  And her lateness gave my doubt time to blossom.  Eventually she came out of a back room and said my name in a tone of voice that sounded like a gunshot.  I'm running late, she said, Sit down.  Sit down, like it was an order, not an invitation.  Like it was wrong for me to pace like this.

I said, How late?  Maybe I'll go get coffee and come back.  I do not drink coffee in the afternoon.

She said, Fifteen minutes.

I stepped out the door into the cool February mist and took some deep breaths.  I got in my car and sat inside looking in through the front window.  Looking, watching, waiting.

After fifteen minutes I put my key in the ignition and drove home without any explanation or regret.



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