OTHER SHOES, OTHER FEET
A Short Story By
David Lee Howells
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Close One Door
A heavy-set, brunette, Caucasian receptionist had just completed another duty that, to her mind, was one of the thousand things she did every day to keep this place running. If it weren’t for her, not one of these falutin’ ‘health professionals’ would get anything done. That couple she just sent to their [down the hall on the right/second door to your left/you are expected] destination was just another grain of sand in her dune of responsibilities. A soft beep announced the next sand grain on her plate.
“Bandwidth Mental Health Services, Ms. Lister speaking, how can I help you? [pause]. I’m sorry sir, but Dr. Filbin is on vacation. Dr. Megglenech is filling in for her this week. I can put you through to Dr. Megglenech’s assistant or Dr. Filbin’s voice mail. [Pause.] Very well…”