Last
summer, before I took off for a few days in Illinois, I had minor
dental surgery. The procedure was so fast that I may have missed it
thinking about what I was going to write about in an upcoming issue
of half baked. ;-)
After I left
the doctor's office, I had to pick up a few pr*scripti*ns at my local
ph*rm*cy. I was delighted that I didn't have to stand in line, and
quickly made my way to the drop off counter.
With a very
numb mouth and face and a large amount of gauze in my mouth, I was asked a few
questions before my order would be filled.
The
ph*rm*cist first asked if I had ever been to his store before. I
nodded my head no, and said without moving my lips, "other location."
He then asked
me for my name and my date of birth. I sloppily slurred out this
information, and at the same time pulled out my drivers license in
preparation for the inevitable follow up questions.
Because his
clear intention was to get this information from me verbally, he
actually had to look up at me and see why this might not be possible.
As he glanced at me, he noticed that my mouth and one cheek were taking up
twice as much space as normal.
His fleeting
recognition of my situation lasted less than 1/1,000 (one one
thousand) of a second, and was undetectable in his conscious thought.
He again asked me for my name and date of birth, and I pointed to my
drivers license.
Finally, some compassion in his eyes.
He then said
it would be 15 minutes to fill my order. No problem, I thought and
decided to go find a Father's Day card, and if necessary go check out
the latest issue of Entrepreneur magazine.
Over in the
card section, I found myself laughing at the cards so loudly that I
was certain that I my newly acquired stitches would require re-sewing.
I returned to
the pick up counter 20 minutes later. At the pick up counter, I was
asked for my name. I presented my drivers license instead.
Then again,
with my license in her hand, the kind lady asked me my name. I slurred
it out the best I could, but apparently it wasn't clear enough.
At that
point, she realized, the "card" in her hand would actually contain the
very information she was seeking. She then glanced down and squinted
as she read my name out loud.
She looked
around and couldn't find my order. She then asked me if I had just
dropped it off. She said it wasn't ready, and did offer to "check the
computer" to see if it was in the system. She then asked if I could
come back in a few minutes. (Did I have a choice?) Sure.
I sat down
next to a guy who checked his blood pressure 22 times and I waited.
Ten more minutes passed, 15 more minutes passed and still nothing.
Twenty minutes later the kind lady glanced at me, and ASKED for my
name again.
I jumped up
and gave her my ID again. I noticed a brief acknowledgement that I was
the one with the undetectable speech.
Just so I'm
clear, I'm not complaining nor was I expecting special treatment. But
I think the lack of human kind threw me a bit of guard...
And at the same time, I found myself laughing uncomfortably about all
this. I recognize, as well, that I am so very capable of going about
my day and not really seeing what is right in front of me.
Today, I simply offer these thought for both of us.
Listen a little more than you usually do - to both yourself and to
others. Understand a little more than you usually do - about yourself
and about others. And see yourself and others this day - with your
eyes and with your heart...

p.s. Comments, thoughts?
email me here!