I am mean? No, I am not mean. But there is no way that I would have been able to tolerate what I witnessed behind the front desk at the Sloan Kettering Breast Center as I waited for my breast screening. In the past as an office worker sentenced to sit next to some of the most hideously unprofessional people I have ever had the displeasure of working with, I have had the task of asking them to please keep their voices down when talking incessantly to coworkers instead of working, and to please turn down hideous pop music blaring from their cheap radios.
A worker behind the desk at Sloan Kettering had some holy roller preacher blaring on her computer. Yasah, Jaysus-sah – praise Gawd! Because ya see Jaysus loves ya, yasah! Unbefucking-lievable! This should never be tolerated in a place of business. Another woman sits at her chair behind the desk and starts singing – OVER the other woman’s holy roller station! And she’s singing a gospel song! I’m thinking how rude this all is, and at the same time she’s singing music which would imply that she would be respectful to her fellow God-fearing man. So she then turns on her computer, which is less than two feet away from the other woman with her holler roller station still on. Her computer comes on, and ta-dahhhh, she plays gospel music on hers! So we’ve got competing gospel stations on and one bitch singing! And this is a place of business.
But, they seemed all kumbayah about it as the two competing gospel women began a conversation. The one who was singing turned around, and I saw that she wore the tightest pants on one of the cottage cheesiest of behinds. I could see the holes of her butt through her pants. She says to her competing holy roller friend, “I thought these pants would be too tight. But I lost a lot of weight.” Her friend smiles beatifically and says, “Oh so they fit now. That’s good.” They weren’t religious rivals after all, but supportive friends and coworkers. Who knew?
There was a third woman behind the desk who seemed oblivious to it all as she sailed through her work without a twitch, except for a questionable glance in my direction, which might have been interpreted as “Help me…” She was a saint I tell ya! I don’t think I could’ve dealt with that shit.
What I did have to deal with was having my already nearly non-existing breasts smashed to pieces in that God-forsaken machine! The wig-wearing technician was a sadist!! “I have to make this a liii-tle tighter,” she says, turning the knob further around. “Seriously,” I tell her, “I never had this thing turned up so tight before.” I left out of there screaming, I swear, “My titties hurt!” I think I scared her. Maybe she didn’t want to get fired. In the dressing room, when I couldn’t find my glasses she ran over to help me look for them trying to be all nice and everything.
Lastly, the show on the TV in the second waiting room, the one away from the front where all the women wear robes, was a breast cancer awareness program. I realized that one of the actors in the film was an ex friend of mine! Ahaha!! Could this day not be any more interesting? She played a sympathetic family member. (What a joke!) I thought, well at least the bitch is getting some work.