Receptionist

Jan 27 2020

The receptionist smiles

at all arrivals,

her perfect white teeth

greeting job hunters

clients

casual inquirers,
the man bearing packages
signed and received.

Her gossiping colleagues
incompetent boss.
And the poor souls 
who are are either lost, and looking for a way out,

or desperate for the rest room
before peeing themselves.

She expertly pilots her chair,

wheeling between computer screens, and telephones

a wall of forms and file-folders.

Does she go home each night

and slip into something casual?

Scrub the make-up from her face

and relax that rictus smile

before it becomes permanent,

before the laugh lines and dead eyes

of the professional greeter

are frozen in place?

I admire her fortitude.

Because almost everyone's a stranger

   --  the anxious and deranged

angry and complaining,

the garrulous and lonely

who could talk all day.

I am impressed
by her unruffled exterior

flawless efficiency.

Like the performer

who juggles chainsaws and flamethrowers

while keeping the patter going

without losing an arm.

Yet we see her like the furniture,

an interchangeable part, there to serve;

today a blonde

tomorrow a brunette.

I'm late for my appointment.

Still, she smiles at me warmly

and invites me to sit.

Offers coffee or tea

a bright “doctor is in”.