Dear mental health professionals who practice in my city:
What were you thinking? Are you all sharing a vacation house at the beach this week and forgot to counsel your patients to take their meds while you are away?
Yeah, bad idea.
Here’s how I dealt with that oversight on your part and all who joined me in the foyer today:
I tried to ignore the well-spoken women who took a semi bath in the ladies room sink, then sat down in a booth and smoked a pack of cigarettes and nursed a couple of shots of brandy for four hours–oh yeah, while having some kind of intense conversation with her imaginary friend. But you know what? But, she paid for the alcohol and left a small tip. So, okay, I’ll let that one go.
And don’t worry, we dealt with the professional-looking woman who was in before and again today, complaining a little too intensely about a phantom chipped glass. We kind of showed her the way back to work.
Oh, and the boomer-aged preppie-looking guy who thinks he is healthy enough to consume alcohol at 11 a.m. if he comes in with a hard-drinking regular? Please tell him to just say no. No one served him after the first couple because he so clearly couldn’t hold an ounce of booze. But he chose to hang around for way too long, sweeping postcards and matchbooks off the podium counter, “touring” the restaurant, and yammering senselessly at the hosts, until someone sent him packing.
When a “normal” looking woman came up to my foyer and asked to see the manager, I figured she wanted to apply for a job. When this same woman wouldn’t tell me why she wanted to see a manager, but insisted she had to see one by repeating this fact five times without stopping and then grabbed a couple of toothpicks and started chewing on them–wrappers and all–I knew I’d have a manager see her. Immediately.
Some days I have more patience.
Today, the craziness made me crazy.