Is That How You Spell Your Name?

     I work in admissions at my local hospital, and unfortunately, the blond monster rears its ugly head there, too. Sometimes it’s just downright aggravating. Here I am, trying to look like a competent professional, and then I do something stupid and the patient begins to wonder if maybe they should have gone someplace else for healthcare. I mean does everyone at the hospital eat suckers while they work and try to hide them in a cubby hole when a patient appears? How are they to know that I’m the only one that does that? I mean, come on, it’s a logical concern.

     I could also become the only person in the world fired for doing cartwheels at work. If anyone ever brings up my occasional cartwheel  in the lobby as a concern, I will point out that I make sure no one is around, particularly patients, when I perform my gymnastic feat. The only ones privileged to see my sacred ritual are my coworkers on second shift. And may I point out that they enjoy it very much.

     Older people can be very crotchety and make you feel like a fool or be very sweet and make you feel like you could do everything wrong and they would be fine with it. Thankfully, I had the latter one weekend when I was competently filling out a payment form for a nice, old lady. I kept trying to look up her name in the computer, but Dorthy Drive just wasn’t popping up.

     “Is that how you spell your name, Dorthy?” I asked, slightly smug that even if the biller had spelled it incorrectly, that I would have the skill to still find her in the system.

     I looked at the bill harder and realized that Dorthy Drive was her address. Just for the record, that COULD have been a name. In fact, I might name one of my kids that someday…