Now, I encounter a wide variety of people in my job. Actually, that is not true. I encounter a lot of gay men in my job. Most of them are hot and wealthy. I also encounter a number of really incredible looking women. Above all, the people I meet are fun and interesting. And, the people for whom I work are fun. And, everyone is gorgeous. I love my job! I don’t always feel like I fit in, but I love it.

Anyway, it is sort of a perfect little place where things smell good and the music never stops. I should know. It is part of my job to keep the music playing. However, sometimes things happen that rattle the hearts and souls of those of us operating in the glittery world of disco and medicine. It is a serious science, but it is made fun. And, it is art in many ways. Today, tho, a lost soul wandered into our lair and it was a bit worrying.

Today someone banged on our lobby door. Odd, that. The door is unlocked and is glass. I saw a disgruntled-looking lady. She was wearing a dirty pants suit. Vintage. I am guessing from circa 1977. Our eyes met. She kicked the door again. Yes, she kicked the door because her hands were otherwise occupied. She was wearing those ugly orange kitchen cleaning gloves. In one hand she held a soiled brown bag that was from “Sam’s Happy DoNuts!” (note: I’ve changed the name of the do-nut shop to protect the innocent) — but, the really strange thing was what was in her other orange-gloved hand. Yes, in that other hand she held a clear plastic bag containing a stool specimen. I imagine that the specimen was her own. You see, there is a gasto-intestinal medical office on our floor.

I took a deep breath and walked to the door. I opened it. She smelled sort of like beer nuts. The following exchange took place:

“May I help you?”

“Yerrrr muuuzic is too loud”

“I’m sorry”

“I’ve got freeee fillings that need to be feeeeeled today. I wont ’em done now” (I should mention that she had no front teeth)

“Um, no. We do not accept walk-in patients”

“‘Scuse youuuuu?”

a beat of a pause — and then loudly and with slow and strong emphasis on each word


She shrugged. Moved her do-nut bag into the same hand as her stool specimen and limped away. I shuddered and returned to the safety of Goldfrapp and my pretty desk.

…donuts, disco and shit. Sometimes it all comes together. Luckily, no one noticed. Only one person noticed the sound of the banging. I took care of it. I’m no hero. It’s just my job.

October 19, 2006. Uncategorized.


  1. Dessie replied:


  2. ing replied:

    Sounds like you handled that well. I had a guy rant at me for several minutes because the Johnny Cash CD I was playing contained immoral messages and phrases meant specifically to mock him. My tactic was to nod sympathetically until he was finished, since he was headed out the door. My coworker, though, got a little angry with him and made some parting remark about how he didn’t have to shop there if he didn’t like the music. Which gave him the idea to return at ten-minute intervals and stand out front, yelling.

    But a stool sample?! Yikes!

  3. ing replied:


  4. matt replied:

    Dessie – Yes, it made me laugh, too!

    Ing — I love your new profile picture. I forget to tell you!


  5. Karyn replied:


    EW EW EW!

    I kept thinking, if I scroll down and there is a picture of poop, I’m so out of here. LOL.

    You’re a trooper Matty. And it sounds like you fit in – hot, gorgeous and gay – and they are damn lucky to have you!

  6. matt replied:

    Karyn! LOL! I would never do that to you! And, thank you — but if I don’t get my lazy ass in gear and drop about 5 pounds I am going to be finding myself without a job! oy!

  7. matt replied:

    …he says as he bites into a cookie…

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