the fifteen minute rule . . .

I don't know exactly how or when it happened but I've had this fifteen minute window of time engrained into my psyche. I was raised in a home where being fifteen minutes early for an appointment or meeting meant you were on time.
I consequently passed this on to my kids.
I can honestly say, we are very seldom late for anything.
I am a precision German instrument in that respect.
I can quite accurately gauge how long it will take me to reach my destination and, with my fifteen minute cushion, tardiness is seldom an issue.
Why doesn't the rest of the population run like this?
My first appointment today- VERY LATE.
Second- SAME
so, what does this do to the rest of the day?
How do I face the patient who actually runs on time but has to wait due to the inconsiderate behavior of those who came before?
Moral of this rant . . . If you are waiting in the lobby for an appointment, frustrated that your MD or whatever is running late- it may not be their fault, but the accumulated fault of those who came before you and gummed up the day!
If you run on time- ALWAYS make your appointment FIRST thing in the morning, or FIRST after return from lunch.

Whispering, a learned skill . . .

Last weekend Randy and I had a quick getaway to Reno.
The drive was pleasant, the weather lovely.
Randy had a great time playing in the casino and I caught up on reading, movie watching and working out in the gym.
We had tickets to the new stadium where the AAA Diamondback team plays in Reno.
Included in our package was seating and food in a giant luxury box.
As we stood in line getting ready to enter the stadium a pair of local ladies stood behind us.
Lady one kept pointing at me (mind you I was about 2' away from her) and saying (loudly) "that is the kind of hair cut I want, sort of short, but not diky". She repeated this several times, each time with the "dike" reference.
I was patient for a bit, and then thought I would have a bit of fun with her.
I turned around, smiled sweetly and said, "thank you for complimenting my hair, but you should know, I am a dike"
I thought she was going to die on the spot
Her friend kept saying "oh my God, oh my God, oh my God"
It was terribly fun.
After about 20 seconds I told her to relax, I wasn't a "dike" but she should watch the volume a bit. My phone rang and I started a conversation with Ashley- Randy called Kyle and we passed the next few minutes engaged in our separate phone conversations.
As I hung up I heard her again, "now, see that lady over there, I thought she was a guy- that is diky hair"
Clearly, this lady had not learned her lesson.
I turned around, looked her in the eye and told her "she can hear you".
Lady number two went back to the "OHMYGOD" refrain.

The funny part of this whole story . . . I wish I had a picture of this woman who so desperately didn't want to look like a "dike"
overweight, no makeup or styled hair, mans flannel shirt, shabby jeans and old tennis shoes.
I think the ship had already sailed . . . she looked the part already.