There are three kinds of receptionists – the lovable “Everybody’s-my-friend” receptionist, who calls you by your first name and knows your kid’s name with their correlated diseases. Then there’s the gauntlet “Everybody’s-a-zombie-killing-competitor” receptionist, who thinks your comments are accusations with hidden codes that you want to get them fired. Finally, there’s the “Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy” receptionist, who knows you more than your spouse by simply being the attentive middle man. Middle woman. Middle…whatever.
Regardless of three
your receptionist may be,
that person stands between you
and the person you came to see.
Don’t f*ck with them.
Did I intend to write poetry for this post? No. But I did because I have severe cramps this month and it’s turning me into a WWF wrestler (they speak in rhymes like…cave men). After I dropped Samu off at school, I was so relieved there was nothing else to do but go home and rip out my uterus.
According to my friend, that’s a little too much information – but it’s the truth. The reason I’m so cranky? Yesterday, I assisted a beautiful young lady who taught the kids Bollywood dancing during recess. Zuki’s school was fortunate to secure the Unity Stage’s Arts For Recess. They’re local artists who get the kids involved with singing or dancing during indoor recess.
Anyway, I wound up being the DJ for the dancer cuing the song when it was time. She taught each recess period a one minute routine of easy “Bollywood” type steps the kids could master. The song was Jay Ho, from Slumdog Millionaire. It’s an understatement when I say the kids LOVED it.
Even the Assistant Principal was getting his groove on. As for Zuki, who convinced me to volunteer for this show, decided he’d rather watched the radiant Ms. Alicia from the comfort of my lap. But that’s not the reason I’m so cranky – I’m getting to that, will ya?
By the last recess period, I was enjoying the mad house. Recess was a success! All the kids, especially the boys were dancing, they mobbed the stage, they crowded in the aisle but on every single face, was an expression of bliss. As I keyed the song for the last time on the iPod a girl came running up to me yelling, “Can I ask you a question?! Can I ask you something?! Can I?!”
When I gave her the go-ahead she asked, “Can you play ‘Gangnam Style’?”
I gave her my best Valley Girl “No-wuh!”