Hi there, guys and dolls! You know some days at the day job are just well, stupid, for lack of a better word? This would be one of them. No one got anything done (wait, that’s not news), but there certainly was fevered activity, especially by the female staff. Let me fill you in.
It all started when the big boss had informed Bertha the office manager that it was time yet again for the annual staff physicals. Today. And the frenzy ensued. See, nobody liked the doctor. Old Dr. Schwartzman. He smelled funny, like decaying mothballs. He always looked at you kind of cock-eyed, like he didn’t believe it when you said, “Of course, Doctor, I don’t drink,” or “Yes Doctor, I get plenty of exercise…” He’d just sort of harumph a grunt and scribble something down and claim you fit for work. Not a big deal, just didn’t like dealing with the old grump.
Anyhoo, about ten minutes before he was due to arrive, there was a great buzz going through accounting, marketing and both the secretarial and typing pools. Dr. Schwartzman had retired and there was a new, young doctor. And gasp, he was eligible!
You’ve never seen such a female frenzy in your life! Half the girls were vying for nailing the new doctor by going the “Doctor, could you look at my sore throat,” or the “I have a little pain right here, at the top of my cleavage…” route, applying warpaint lipstick, perfume and undoing blouse buttons and hiking up hemlines. The other half were going the “Florrie Nightingale” with a floozy twist. Where these clever girls were able to get the uniforms in such short order I’ll never know (what, did they keep them in their desks for the occasional game of doctor with the junior execs in the supply closet…), but when I went down to the lunch room, I was surrounded by a crowd of them viciously trying to ‘out-nurse’ each other in the most competitive ‘compassion’ contest yours truly has ever seen. It was like being in a den of vipers with folded caps…
Finally, the moment arrived. In walked the handsome new doctor, stethoscope around his neck, with perfect hair and a devil may care grin and swagger (think Doctor Kildare…) and toddling behind him in her perfectly starched ensemble was Mindy from the steno pool, grinning from ear to ear, carrying a clipboard and ready for her medical action. See, she had skipped the coffee clatch, ran downstairs and met him in the lobby, claiming that she was ‘sent from the agency’ to assist him (the fact that she had absolutely no understanding of medical terms didn’t stop her, oh no). She hummed and nodded appropriately, made squiggly notes, passed everyone anyway, including Charlie from acquisitions who actually wasn’t even there, he was on sick leave…. Made no difference to the doctor, he didn’t know him anyhow.
By the end of the day, we all were deemed fit for work, and Mindy deemed the doctor fit for play. He didn’t argue.
Thanks for reading and stay tuned for more posts. And don’t forget to give my Poppy Cove Mysteries a try if you haven’t already.
Toodles, Barbara Jean