Hear Jim’s 4-minute podcast at https://youtu.be/jko6-wwOz_M
or read his story below…
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Life, actually…
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DANGLING
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“Who’s in charge here?”
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As I enter this big-city hospital waiting room I want to shout, “Who’s in charge here?” as in “Who is really in charge?”
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The computer-suffused room is all about somebody’s idea of efficiency and professionalism. Or at least somebody’s idea of how to look efficient and professional.
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Perception wins the day. Everything looks hunky-dory, so everything must actually be hunky-dory.
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Other people are waiting ahead of me. Some even glance up from doom-scrolling to see what kind of creature is invading their attention span. I appear harmless so all curiosity falters within mere moments.
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Are all dawdlers herein asleep at the wheel? I wonder in silence.
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“Good morning,” I smile broadly at the half-visible-behind-computer-screen person at the barrier desk.
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She reluctantly averts my gaze and mechanically asks for my date of birth.
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I dream of a day when my Good Morning will be reciprocated. So, feeling jerky but still polite and grinning I repeat, “Good morning!” She appears confused for a jiffy. How do I reply to this unexpected burst of goodwill, she must be thinking.
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She gruffly stares at her side of the monitor and mumbles a good morning. “What is your date of birth?” she asks as if trying to be heard by this doddering old fool.
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“Nine six forty-one,” I reply. Pause, then add with humor, “A.D.” This often engenders a laugh and helps break tension. In this case, no response. Humor-dead she may be. Or maybe this doddering old fool is losing his timing.
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I am reduced to taking orders. I sit and stare at my surroundings. I always seem to be curious about everything, so my note-taking resumes.
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Time does fly.
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Months later, I come across a brown leather textured notebook filled with astute–or stupid–observations that I constantly inscribe. The good-morning-clerk entry page includes things like, “Is there such a thing as a perfectly-appointed waiting room where all fear and loathing is replaced by lovely plastic flowers and mass wall art and pastel floor tiles?”
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Another note, “Have I become accustomed to assembly-line healers and menders and mercenary medical accountants? Should I learn to live with personnel who stand in the white-light doorway and shout my last name? Am I supposed to be so used to the system that I know this shout means I should dutifully make my way to a staff member who silently about-faces and heads into the bowels of examination-room row?”
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Do I dutifully stand at attention awaiting further instruction? Am I supposed to follow her? I decide to wait.
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She resignedly returns to me and says, “This way.”
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I get the impression, as silly as it seems, that each staff member is wondering whether mine is a life worth saving. Or do staff members pick and choose as needed?
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Useless notes abound in my notebooks. I learned early on that it is important to write down all the junk, all the seemingly unimportant life-bits, because in the long run a shard of wisdom or a passage of importance or a poetic phrase will show up and provide fodder for useful and entertaining stories.
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Stay tuned. An entire book of waiting-room notes hovers in my future. I’ll do my best to include only the entertaining ones.
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Please await further instructions
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© 2026 A.D. by Jim Reed