She checked her watch as she passed through the automatic double doors. 8:31. That meant she was five minutes early since she always had it set a little ahead. She reached into her bag for her orange Caribou Coffee
moosehead key ring with her Auckland University ID badge attached. No matter how few things in her bag, it always seemed to be buried underneath everything. After a minute or so of standing and digging before security, to whom she’d given up on morning greetings months ago (they don’t seem to be into that hello thing here), she located her keys and pressed them against the black strip on the front of the automatic gates. Beep and open. She was in the building.
Stairs or elevator? Stairs. Better for the environment and better for the body. To the left she headed, pushing open the heavy wooden slatted door with a small center window and up four flights of cement stairs. On the landings, there were bulletin boards posted with studies, parties, events, items for sale. Once she’d thought about buying a bike posted, but decided that she’d probably be too scared to ride it in Auckland traffic anyway.
She had her
ipod on as she trudged up the steps. Singing out loud if there
didn’t appear to be anyone else in there with her. The acoustics were lovely in the stairwell and few others really seemed to admire the stair route, so she took advantage, whistling and singing as she plunked up, trying to remain in her own little world and delay the start to her day as long as possible. She watched for the top step with the plastic repair in the cement, signifying that she only had one flight to go. Ground, first, second, third, fourth, jackpot.
She opened the door and looked around the empty and dimly hallway and headed left. On the wall was a sign posted, “Follow the blue line to the optometry clinic.” She passed through the window-lined connector to the second building and depressed a red button to open another old wooden door before heading down the hall past the student computer lab and various offices.
Another red button and she made her entrance into the main clinic. What would it be today? Front desk attack or friendliness? She never knew which to expect. One day, they’d be all smiles and greetings, the next it would be some sort of anger for a chart unsigned.
“You have to fail Anne! She had a chart in her bag. She
didn’t get her letters written in time.” The woman behind the front desk was charging at her already at only half past eight. So early for anger, in her mind.
She kept a flat face and calm demeanour as the attack began. Later, she’d think,
It’s really my call whether or not I fail the student, not the other staff's. But she
didn’t say much at the moment. She was too caught off guard by their unusual communication antics in this country. Or was it just this department? It was a strange aggressiveness to which she was unaccustomed. Her response was silence mostly and delayed reaction.
Patients sat in their chairs in the waiting area. Students were coming and going as the onslaught continued. She waited for the woman to finish with her, then picked up her sheet with the student roster on it for the day and headed through another set of double doors.
"Morning!" "Hi, Dr. Schultz!"
"Morning!" She smiled. "How are you guys today?"
"Good!" They chimed, charts in hand, milling about in their short white student coats, as they prepared for the first patient of the day.
She continued down the
corridor to her office, unlocked the sliding door and pushed her bag underneath her desk.
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