Not exactly the setting I had in mind, in more ways than one, but this should really be experienced first….
No, the waiting wasn’t done enjoying a cold Heineken, because I don’t drink alcohol and certainly not beer. But Laura’s request did have me visiting the local pharmacy, for a long and wide bandage. That, on an average Saturday morning, is a waiting experience waiting to happen! I came in at the count of 34, and ripped off number 47 from the dispenser at the entrance. Reminded of our young NASA engineer, the idea of doing a number on you guys and gals zapped through my neural network like wildfire…..
That of course tripped the ‘Watch and Learn mode’ which had me hunting for stuff to tag observations to. And there was plenty of opportunity for it. First of all, those waiting people: it is really remarkable how sparsely they interact! Those that do, you can almost always categorize as having come in together, rather than being independent customers. The rest, especially the single ones, just sit there quietly, or roam the pharmacy, looking at the displayed goods…
Goods, or bads, whatever way you look at them. Mainly, what you believe to be good is good for you. Not because it works, but because YOU DO! And the pharmaceutics and dermatology companies know that, and cash in on it: the poster that hung on the counter was positioned well within eyesight of the young girl that came in with her father. Four or five years in age, she stared at it intently for at least thirty seconds before resumeing her playing with the immense floor tiles and the seams between them. What was she thinking? Was it the perfect face of the beauty on it, or the fact she was peeling off the old skin, which in itself looked normal, but was emphasized by the tearing edges of her stripping herself bare to reveal the beauty?
It probably wasn’t the semi-scientific mumbo-jumbo that told older females they lack stuff in order to be perfect. They try it on males nowadays as well, but those are much tougher cookies: most of them stick to the phrase that guys get better looking when they age. Or better yet: "that’s not age, it’s character!"
After a while, the waiting got boring, and I noticed a vacant place on the bench where a previous customer had been seated. Being that big-eared freeloader, I guessed leaving that spot vacant would be a waste, even if my number was up in two more ‘pings’. So I sat down, immediately observing my old spot taken by an elderly lady who just came in. Had the Cosmos just offered me a seat, or yet another opportunity to do what I love to do best?
I spoke to her, and offered her my place on the hardwood bench. Old as she was though, she still had the idea that nobody needed to get up on her account. Only when I mentioned being next in line, she accepted my offer, and we switched places. More room for conversation wasn’t in the works, at least not with the old lady. I heard my number come up, and engaged the rather well fed lady behind the counter.
No, wrong! Even such a measured description can still be misconstrued as an insult, because of what people think you think when you say it that way. But hey, I’m not here to discuss her eating habits or her fruitless attempts at changing her body. For all I know she can be perfectly happy with the way she is, and none of the above would in any way influence the interaction between the two of us…..
I explained to her I needed a bandage to shore up Laura’s busted rib (nope, not guilty!), and got a well informed, but unfortunately ill-advised reply: she figured their bandages couldn’t cope with the task, and wanted to send me to one of the few ‘Medical supply shops’ Zutphen has. Unfortunately, they are all closed on Saturdays…
So I figured I’d just take the largest bandage they had, and improvise with that. But the reluctance remained…. It turned out she was afraid of selling me something which might not work, and whatever would happen then. Only when I took the responsibility of said action, could I persuade her to hand over the goods. Not that she asked specifically, but her dialogue strongly suggested that my will was the key to the solution. So I did the one thing needed, and got Laura two bandages instead of just one.
Laura jumped at the occasion the moment I got back in. Not literaly of course, busted rib and all, but she was quite happy I was there with the bandages. She took them into the bedroom, not even inviting her sister to help put them on. Five minutes later she came back as flat-chested as a Japanese Geisha girl!
Then she and Mel left, leaving me the task of doing this weeks grocery shopping, and maybe some cleanup detail. And yes, in between there will be the exploits pertaining to my new tools disk.
Love the variety, it keeps things going….