To Start With...

The blue lights flashed.

“No, not now,” Channing moaned. She pulled on her right turn signal and pulled to the side of the road.

The large officer came to her window and said, “License and proof of insurance.”

Channing surrendered the required documents.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t,” she started but he had already taken her information and walked back to his car.

The traffic was heavy and although she had been speeding Channing wondered why the cop had to pick on her. After all there were cars in front and close behind so she couldn’t have been going that much over the limit.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” the cop had come up to her window again. Channing wondered if she cried maybe he would let her off with a warning.

Again she started to speak and he cut her off, “You were speeding in a construction zone and when you saw me you never even slowed down.”

“I didn’t put on the brakes but I did,” she continued to say, “let off of the accelerator,” but obviously that didn’t matter, the cop rudely interrupted once again to say, “If you had only shown some sign of slowing down I probably wouldn’t have stopped you.”

Channing sighed she knew that wasn’t true. This cop had decided to give her a ticket the minute he saw her coming.

“Drive carefully,” he said as he handed her the ticket.

Channing checked her mirrors. Since she didn’t have an unobstructed view she decided to pull forward a little so she could see better. Her tires spun when she pressed the gas pedal causing the loose gravel to pelt the officer’s car. She immediately let off the accelerator and tried to slowly move forward but she couldn’t, there was only one way so she gave it the gas again and pulled into traffic.

Channing checked the clock on the dash. It was a little after 2:00 in the afternoon. She was late, of course that didn’t come as a big surprise. She had been late all her life. It was just one of those little things a person wants badly to overcome but comes up short every time.

Maybe the doctor had another appointment that ran overtime; after all aren’t doctors known for overbooking and making people wait. Channing was on her way to an interview for a job that she desperately needed before she got the ticket but now was even more important.

She pulled into the parking area of The Medical Arts Center and found a space up front. Maybe this is a sign things are going to get better, she thought.

Channing stepped out of her car and smoothed the front of her gray skirt. It was her favorite for interviews because it gave her much needed confidence. It made her feel sharp and smart.

“Go get ‘em tiger,” she said psyching herself up for the interview. She checked her hair and teeth in the mirror.

“Excuse me,” a man said.

“I’m sorry,” Channing straightened and looked at the man. He had a dazzling smile that Channing returned without thinking.

“You look great to me,” he said, “I’d hire you.”

“I’m,” Channing looked puzzled, “How did you know I was here for an interview?”

“Patient’s don’t usually fix themselves up this much. Don’t see many come in here with a business suit on,” he said.

“Do you work here?” Channing thought this could be a good time for some inside information on the doctor, “Do you know Dr. Anderson?”

“I do,” he said, “He’s a wonderful man. Very generous, smart, kind…”

“Wow, you think very highly of him,” Channing was a little suspicious of a man who sang the praises of another man so freely.

“and handsome,” he continued.

“You know I have to get inside I’m late already,” she turned and walked briskly into the office. Maybe it had been a mistake to talk to the stranger. Now she felt a little strange and uncomfortable.

Once inside she felt the familiar nervous feeling that she always had when she went on an interview. There’s no reason to be nervous she reminded herself. I’m considered one of the best. She started her internal cheerleader voice and began to convince herself that she was a great asset to any doctor’s office and that this one would be lucky to have her.

She stepped up to the receptionist’s window and pasted her smile into place.

“Hello, I’m Channing Smith, here for an interview with Dr. Anderson,” she said in her most professional voice.
“One moment,” the curt reply came from a little women with short, straight brown hair who looked overworked and probably underpaid.

Channing walked over and found a seat in the waiting room. She picked up a magazine and pretended to find it interesting. Really she was wishing that she didn’t have to remain here in this room with all these sick people. A little boy ran towards her reaching out with a chocolate covered hand. She jumped up and took two steps to the left to avoid the little boy’s hands. When she did this the waiting room door swung open and she somehow landed in the arms of the man she had spoken with outside.

He flashed that dazzling smile again and asked her to come into the inner office. She smiled weakly and followed.

“This has really been a rough day so far,” she decided to try and form a friendship with this insider, “While I was on my way here I was stopped and ticketed. I’ve never had a ticket in my life,” she giggled nervously and hoped he wouldn’t pick up on it.

“Really, that’s tough isn’t it?” he pointed her towards the door at the end of the hall and started back in the opposite direction.

“Wait,” she called, “Is Dr. Anderson in there?”

“No,” he answered and smiling again started the other way, “Just wait in there he won’t be long.”

“Great,” Channing said under her breath. She went in the room. It was a large office with a big desk in the middle and as to be expected the walls were lined with bookshelves that contained medical books and encyclopedias. Channing was too nervous to sit so she walked around the room. There was a picture of a snow leopard hanging on the back of the door.
“I guess he would have hung it on the wall if the books hadn’t needed all the available space,” again she giggled nervously but at least this time nobody heard her.
Small elephant sculptures were placed on the shelves in the empty spaces that had been left and a brass elephant’s head was sitting on the desk along with the usual array of doctor’s office bric-a-brac such as the gadgets and gizmos that the drug reps leave to remind the doctor’s to prescribe their drugs.
Channing began to browse through the books on the shelves. She was surprised to find several of her favorite fiction authors among the medical books.
“Why is he making me wait?” she wondered, “Maybe he’s one of those people who thinks he should make me wait because I was late.” She began to bite the inside of her lip. “Stop it,” she said firmly to herself, “be calm and be patient.” Again she started the now automated inner voice that began to tell her what an asset she would be to this doctor and his office.

The door opened and Channing jumped involuntarily. She had been in the middle of chanting her mantra when the man who had taken her to this office came through the door. Channing prepared herself to be told that Dr. Anderson had already hired someone else, someone who had come to her interview on time. She picked up her purse and again pasted the smile.
The twinkling eyes and the dazzling smile were already on the man’s face when he spoke, “Hello, you must be Ms. Smith. It’s very nice to meet you. I am Dr. Anderson.”