Sometimes, things happen. And you are left thinking about them for days.
Monday:Government Office.
I'm was in the first line up (the one where you wait in line to get a number). This woman is ahead of me, kneeling, filling out her form using her newspaper as support. She looks up at me « do you want to go first ?», I reply, « no, it's your turn, you're ahead of me». Polite, I figure. Stunning grey eyes, in her 50's, a touch of reddish hair color.
«I submitted my paperwork for a passport renewal in February, they lost everything, so I'm here, back to square 1» she says. « Bummer,» I reply, «I'm here because they sent me the wrong birth certificate». «Next» barks the blasé civil worker.
So she goes left to the younger CW (while he's playing with the blinds commenting on the beautiful sunny day), the right side «soon to be pensioned CW» is free so I move ahead and explain my case (I wondered if he was listening), «go sit down and way for your number to be called».
B2. Wow, they're up to A1. 2 people are waiting. Must be some random system.
The grey eyed woman gets called. The female CW replies « is your phone number still 514-xxx-xxxx». I can't help but wonder, how much they take privacy seriously... Reverse lookup, bam, I know who she is and where she lives. But I digress.
I look up at the board, still «A something». I'm the only one left in the waiting room, I'm thinking B2, maybe they have reserved seats ?. The grey eyed woman is done. Instead of walking towards the exit, she walks back towards the waiting room, looking at me.
«So, did they manage to fix things for you ?». «Dunno, the guy just gave me this number, B2». «I think people don't really care anymore» she says. «I tell the students at the University, always make sure you have all the paperwork filled out properly, because, no one is going to doublecheck for you». She goes on, «Then they tell me Sylvie, you were right.»
Her grey eyes start probing straight in my eyes, looking for approval. I say something polite, acknowledging that many people don't care much about anything else but themselves. I bend down to tie my shoe laces, and notice her ankle high boots, and rather opaque nylons. I look up at her again, she gazes at me one last time and says «Well, good luck», and walks away.
I'm sitting there, puzzled, not really sure what to think of all this. I was way overdue for my coffee, that might explain it.
«ding»
B2.
Lonely. She must be one of the lonely people. She tells me her first name, that she works at the University; I figured she volunteered too much information. I'm sure she has a cat, and lives in a little flat, maybe with some flowers, plants; something to take care of. She probably goes home after work, thinking about the students she helps. And as she gets closer to home, about her cat.
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05-03-2007 09:20 PM 
