The wall clocks minute hand moved. I sat in a tax preparers suite, a 9x12 envelope full of receipts and documents in my lap. I faced an empty desk but heard coughing from the back. You want an extension? someone asked. About ten the receptionist arrived and acknowledged me by smiling. I hoped shed make the moment golden by saying, Well be ready for you in a jiff. She didnt. I looked around: wall clock, floor patterns, sailboat painting, arrangements of plastic flowers, glass jar full of candy. I looked at everything again, especially the clock. It wasnt as bad as waiting as waiting in a doctors office, but.... A voice said, Okay. The conversation promised to end soon. You can call later. I grabbed my envelope and was ready to rise from my chair. Goodbye. Yes! I asked the receptionist if the preparer would see me now. She checked, then told me, Shes running behind. My time came. I entered the rear office. The preparer worked like a whiz. She glanced back and forth at my papers, typed faster than a speeding bullet, and answered my questions--all at once. Then she told me how much I owed. What a sock to the jaw. I was sorry Id been so impatient. I could have waited longer to receive the bad news, even gone back to when I first glanced at the clock.
Posted on: Fri, 21 Mar 2014 14:48:04 +0000
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