Sometimes I think that it must be hilarious to work in our hospital’s paging center. We have both the ability to text page from our computer and have our paging service staff find individual people. Cell phones are moderately effective in the building and I probably abuse my paging privileges. I am also a crappy individual because I almost always set my paging status to “unavailable”. I hate getting paged.
Yesterday I returned some things to one of my favorite stores called Maurices. We have a dress code in the hospital, so I’m always on the lookout for clothes that are both professional and practical for having to go down to the lab. They’re a pretty great spot for things like that. While I was finishing, the lady at the register said to me, “You really have a great figure. We just got a new dress in and it would be perfect for your shape.”
This is the dress:
I tried it on and the shop ladies went wild over it. I bought it and am wearing it today, but I am still a fat kid on the inside and was having second thoughts about the wisdom of pouring myself into this very form fitted dress. That lead to this morning’s irrational text to my friend in cardiac imaging lab:
“I need you to come check and see if I look like a sausage.”
No need to sign it. She’ll know who it was.
I can only imagine what the folks in the paging center must think as they see these zoom by.