Wait of The World
By Kevin Boyle
When I was my son’s age – we’re coming to him in a second — I rang a doorbell and nobody answered. I waited a few beats and hit the bell again. When the door opened, some Zen-soaked guy said, “Patience is a virtue.”
That little nugget stayed with me. At least the words did. Decades later, I’m still not virtuous.
I was reminded of this shortcoming by my son. Now, it wasn’t the most profound thing my son has ever said. Come to think of it, profound hasn’t happened yet. He’s still a teenager, so the profound stuff is a ways off. At least until he does what Jeb Bush did 40 years ago (for those who missed the last candidates’ debate: Jeb smoked the devil’s lettuce in a college dorm room).
Anyway, my son said the equivalent of the sky is blue. He said, Dad, you hate to wait. No shitski, Sherlock, I said. Introduce me to someone who does. No, but you really hate it.
I’m sure this exchange came after I left a doctor’s office before actually seeing the doctor or got off the line at the Post Office. My son would rather endure a long wait than feel the eyes of others as they fall upon us on our way out. For him, it’s real simple. Those other people waiting are gonna think we’re jerks if we just leave.
I try to tell him the people behind us won’t think we’re jerks. They’ll think we did them a favor. I know otherwise though. Just because the line got shorter, doesn’t mean the wait did.
See, there are two types of people: those who shift lanes in clogged traffic to get in the fastest moving lane and those who wait patiently in the lane they’re already in. I shift lanes.
I’m not saying shifting is the sure fire way to go. Plenty of times I’ve swung into a lane only to see the lane I just moved from open up. In those cases, I usually blame myself for misreading the traffic flow or just my bad luck place in the universe. Forget virtue. I just want to rip the steering wheel off.
Sometimes you’re forced into a dead end, like when you find yourself in Sears. Is there a worse place to get on line? You just need a shirt or belt and you see the dreaded line. I start thinking maybe I don’t need a shirt; maybe I could use the car’s jumper cables for a belt.
Of course, some doctors are no better than Sears. They’ve got waiting rooms that look like the Van Wyck on Friday rush hour. We had some emergencies; a lot of people came in sick, they’ll tell me at the desk. Then I wait and stew and resent the doctor. When I get in the room – I can’t decide if I want to ask fifty questions and get my fair share of time or hurry it up and do right by the people waiting.
It’s not just the wait at the doctor’s. I know when I leave I’ll be getting caught at every red light. Full red lights. The kind just turning red as you get there so you have to wait out the entire sequence. I hate Mayor de Blasio for this. He hired the Department of Transportation Commissioner who is in charge of traffic lights. She’s either doing a lousy job or is doing what the mayor wants. I hate de Blasio in either case.
Of course, because I lack the patience virtue I look too happy and downright goofy sometimes. Recently I walked into the Post Office and there was nobody on line, I mean nobody. I looked around for a hidden camera. There’s a prank coming and they’re filming it. This just can’t be true.
I walked, I glided, up to the window. Sorry, our computers are down. You’re gonna have to wait. Now I wish there were other people there so I could roll my eyes and shake my head and share the pain.
So, the question is, what’s the rush? I have no idea and I’m in no hurry to find out.
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