talking and talking

fine attention to details: this is what bores the shit out of me.

i sat in an oozingly comfortable chair for an eternity during the hours of the day

when i know i am barely functioning and presentable,

attempting to care about all these ideas everyone around me threw out.

basically, subjecting me to a torture-thon in the trappings of an "office meeting".

my god, is this what people think about throughout the day?

really?

i found the anger, more like petulance, growing inside me

as discussions about the "patients' experience" vis a vis employee nitpicking

stretched on for literally minutes. as a "people person", this was fundamentally

reductive to the essential problem of making others happy.

or at least, as happy as they can be right before specialists

sit them down in an off-green chair to extract their disposable income

in hopes that the shittiness of their oral health would become less shitty.

at least, as efficiently as they could.

someone suggested comment cards for patients to fill out,

which would be tallied (and displayed, no less, on a bulletin board,

"which there is plenty of room for in the back" one person gloated);

at the end of the month, the employee with the most amount of feedback

would win an award.

my impatience suggested that there was most definitely enough floss

in the office to hang myself in the bathroom, with the plan being to mask

the gurgling noises from my lungs with the one-off coffee maker at the front office,

which does make coffee in the morning.

by this moment in my life, i have already decided that i am not great at living,

and the proof was that if this rabble was what made people great,

then my amateur hour stretched into years was justifiable.

the small picture never crosses my mind. period.

there are others out there that do it for me, and i am capable of genuflecting to them

in hopes that i can keep them around to sort through these challenges.

i feel no shame in this; some people are really good at certain things,

and others are really good at appointing the first ten minutes of the day to

"huddles, so that we can go over specific things for the day".

i imagine the latter never experience the thrill of living on cereal for dinner

for days on end.

finally, we are done with this sordid affair, and walk my deliberately

agitated body to the back of the office. as i pass a window,

i hear the sirens of an emergency vehicle on the street and think to myself

"Jesus Fucking Christ, we are talking about millimeters here".