There I Was, Sitting in Line

I needed to renew my health card and driver’s licence one day last week. I went online. Easy peasy.

Except it wasn’t. I was informed (by a robot?) that I would have to go to my local government service centre because I needed a photo taken.

I walked into the office, expecting a throng of customers, and was pleased to see there were only a few. I took a number and a seat and pulled out my phone to check on whether or not Donald Trump is still a rat. But before I could confirm that, my number was called.

I was served by maybe the nicest person I’ve ever met and within a few minutes, I was on my way home.

Tonight, I tried renewing my Microsoft account but kept getting a warning I didn’t understand. So I followed the prompts to get in line for a “chat” with a live agent. I was okay with that as I prefer chatting with live agents over dead ones.

I got in line, alright. There were 236 other people ahead of me. That is half the population of the high school I attended long, long ago. Fifteen minutes later, that number is down to 224. The whiskers on my chin will be a lot longer by the time I get through.

So I pulled out my phone to amuse myself during my long, long wait. (I don’t give up easily.)

And yes, Donald Trump is still a rat. Also, it appears, other rats hate him almost as much as the non-rats of this world do.

©2022 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.