This week, I have thrice been to my local clinic/hospital combo for regularly scheduled appointments. That in and of itself is nothing to blog about. Routine check-ups are...well...routine. But let's not forget, nothing is quite routine in Hillmomba.
On Tuesday, as I was giving information at the counter for my appointment which had been lost by the new computer system, a roving band of hooligans came wilding my way. There were three boys, probably in the 8th- or 9th-grade category, creating havoc in the waiting area. Their horseplaying shenanigans of grab-a$$ and sacking and falsetto giggling did not set well with Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. Nor did it ensconce itself very comfortably with the receptionist, she of "I'm from downstairs, and not really sure how they do things up here." Taking her attention off of ME and MY missing appointment, she barked over her shoulder to an older denizen of that gynecological office (where else did you THINK I'd be for my thyroid blood test), "Those boys are up to something." Older Denizen opened the door to the sacred lair, and asked, "May I help you?" Because obviously, adolescent boys go to the gynecologist on a regular basis. Routine, even.
"We're collecting for blah blah blah football team blah blah." Older Denizen nodded, and said before slamming the door in their smirking faces, "I'll be right back." She returned quickly, with a five-dollar bill. Perhaps she took it out of her purse as a pay-off in an effort to dispose of them quickly and save her job. Perhaps she got the donation from Gyno himself. It's tax deductible, I suppose, though I don't know if a freshman football team is non-profit or even a worthy charity, and detailed records must be kept for 7 years on those cash donations. Or so I've heard. But it could just be something I picked up from my students, who regularly contribute to the Encyclopedia of Common Knowledge, so don't quote me on that.
The point is, in case you've been reading through the above rambling with a fine-toothed eyelash comb, that these boys should not have been allowed to roam through four floors of physician's offices begging for money. When I left, they were on the second floor waiting for the elevator. They must have smelled the teacher on me, or caught it in my evil eye, because they refused to get on when the doors opened and they saw me standing there. Is there no soliciting ban in such a public place? Are drug salesmen solicitors? Is that a reason for a soliciting free-for-all? All I know is, I was not pleased with their intrusion. It smacked of extortion. Pay us and we'll go away.
There are more chapters in the Odd Appointments of Hillmomba, but they will have to wait until tomorrow.