Clean Catch
May. 19th, 2009 06:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hafoc
They were at the check-in window of the doctor's office when I came in. They were so well-dressed that I thought they were just a couple of marketoids, part of the swarm, the plague, of Big Pharm pill pushers that crowd you out whenever you go to the doctor's. I almost elbowed my way in front of them.
But then it struck me that the pushers, especially the beginners who come here before they go on to the big bucks elsewhere, tend to be young. And their business look tends more toward navy blue and pinstripe suits-- itself a sign that screams that they're Not From Around Here. The males don't wear khakis. The females don't have their hair up in a style from the 1970s, and they don't wear 1970s era fluffy fur coats either. Not only that, but the man's brown jacket was a Carhartt. A spotless Carhartt work jacket that looked as if it might have been ironed, but a Carhartt nonetheless.
They argued with Denise for a little bit, or rather the woman in the fur did. The man said his name. That was all for him. The argument was something about insurance coverage. What else would you expect?
When they were done, and went to sit down and read old magazines, I stepped to the window. I signed in and said hi to Denise. There hadn't been time to finish even this when the nurse called the man in.
"You're here for a physical, sir?"
He nodded.
"First thing, let's get a urine sample. The rest room is in here. The cups are on the shelf, and the instructions are posted on the wall."
As the door was swinging closed behind him, the woman in the fur shouted "Do a clean catch! Ask them if you should--" The door closed. "Ahh. He never listens to me. I wonder why I bother."
"It will be in the instructions, dear," an elderly lady said.
"Yes, but sometimes they forget. He forgets and he won't listen to me. It's so annoying."
"I wish my husband were still around to annoy me."
"Maybe. I just wish he'd listen to me once in a while."
He was back soon.
"Did you get a clean catch with your urine sample? Did you-- oh, look at you. You got your jacket collar crooked again. Here."
She stood and straightened the collar on his spotless, pressed Carhartt work jacket. She tugged it this way and that way until it suited her perfectly.
He said nothing. He seemed to be looking at the carpet in the corner of the room. His eyes, his tired, tired eyes...
I tried, subtly, to catch his attention and give him a little nod. Now I'm glad I couldn't do it. It wouldn't have helped.
But then it struck me that the pushers, especially the beginners who come here before they go on to the big bucks elsewhere, tend to be young. And their business look tends more toward navy blue and pinstripe suits-- itself a sign that screams that they're Not From Around Here. The males don't wear khakis. The females don't have their hair up in a style from the 1970s, and they don't wear 1970s era fluffy fur coats either. Not only that, but the man's brown jacket was a Carhartt. A spotless Carhartt work jacket that looked as if it might have been ironed, but a Carhartt nonetheless.
They argued with Denise for a little bit, or rather the woman in the fur did. The man said his name. That was all for him. The argument was something about insurance coverage. What else would you expect?
When they were done, and went to sit down and read old magazines, I stepped to the window. I signed in and said hi to Denise. There hadn't been time to finish even this when the nurse called the man in.
"You're here for a physical, sir?"
He nodded.
"First thing, let's get a urine sample. The rest room is in here. The cups are on the shelf, and the instructions are posted on the wall."
As the door was swinging closed behind him, the woman in the fur shouted "Do a clean catch! Ask them if you should--" The door closed. "Ahh. He never listens to me. I wonder why I bother."
"It will be in the instructions, dear," an elderly lady said.
"Yes, but sometimes they forget. He forgets and he won't listen to me. It's so annoying."
"I wish my husband were still around to annoy me."
"Maybe. I just wish he'd listen to me once in a while."
He was back soon.
"Did you get a clean catch with your urine sample? Did you-- oh, look at you. You got your jacket collar crooked again. Here."
She stood and straightened the collar on his spotless, pressed Carhartt work jacket. She tugged it this way and that way until it suited her perfectly.
He said nothing. He seemed to be looking at the carpet in the corner of the room. His eyes, his tired, tired eyes...
I tried, subtly, to catch his attention and give him a little nod. Now I'm glad I couldn't do it. It wouldn't have helped.
