I used to be a receptionist

(based on suggestions from @pinknantucket, @jellyjellyfish, and my Mum)

Terrible at phones and the act of pressing ‘call’.

Hold my phone like a gun, each abstract

number a bullet of resignation. Fingers hover

Make appointments without the knack of demand.

Armor welded out of of lolpics, a space helmet

from that squirrel I need his laser pew pew pew

Hate working this side of medical front desks.

Default deafness of receptionists

False tact sees patients as timeslots.

Here’s a stick bag beat it against your clear head.

If the referral vanishes, get your ghost strokes on

Your fingers don’t even drum past forty wpm.

I trained in that software, you can double entry.

Right click, divide cell, confirm. I was you once.

Add me to the waiting room or I’ll jump the bench.

______________________________________________

Today's poem is based on suggestions from two peeps and my Mum:

• @pinknantucket: “Someone wrote to me today of Laser Space Squirrels and I was quite taken by the idea...whaddya reckon?”
• @jellyjellyfish: “drums”
• Mum: “deafness, resignation and tact”

For someone who worked as a medical receptionist for several years, I'm really bad at making appointments for myself on the phone. I put it off and put it off. I'm also crap at 'fighting' receptionists in person for appointments, even though I know basically any patient can be fitted in at any time, if necessary. I should be able to fight them on home ground, but I can't. I still feel qualified to whinge.

Regarding Laser Space Squirrels, I refer you to: http://www.omglasergunspewpewpew.com

You're welcome.