Letter to all the mean receptionists out there

Have you ever walked into a front office and felt like running back to where you had come from? That’s exactly how some of us feel when we walk into some offices. I don’t know what breakfast some people take but it clearly lacks the ‘happiness’ ingredient. I must however admit that some of these people are heavenly! The smile they give you as you walk towards them is enough to earn them a toothpaste advert. Unlike the moody ones, these ones have a sweet voice that can make you forget the reason you are there in the first place.

The moody ones have eyes equivalent to those of hawks hoovering above a chicken farm. They can spot you as far as from the gate and by the time you get to them, they have already figured out the answer they will give you even before giving you an ear. Some will look at you as though you were some airborne infection swaying their way, they even duck when you talk to them. You are left wondering if your words are coming out as arrows, spears or probably wilder beasts in a stampede.

Some of us are shy, yes I am shy especially when dealing with strangers; so when we realise you are not in the moods to talk to us, we will either detour or get in and just sit there looking blankly at the ceiling board. It is always even worse when you meet two or more people in an office who have conspired to give you a blackout. They see you walking in and one will excuse herself to the ladies, the other will walk to the printer to wait for an imaginary printout and the other will place the receiver on her ears and have the longest call ever with an imaginary client. Their aim is to frustrate you to the point of begging or just giving up and finding some other place to spend your minutes.

There was a time I walked into a reception very pressed and needed to visit the washrooms. I politely walked to one of the receptionists there asking for directions to the washrooms and she just stared at me in shock as though I had told her I was in labour and was looking for a manger to deliver my quintuplets. She then went ahead and pointed at the washrooms using her lips without mentioning a single word. I mean, who points at washrooms with their mouth? Were it not for the fact that I had just started dating a man of God who happened to be working in that office, I would have retaliated with no fear and swung my behind towards the exit without visiting that washroom. But I breathed in and out, said the Lord’s Prayer and took my frustrations to the washroom. They must have received a high water bill that month because I flushed the toilet as many times as I could to burry my anger.

Then I told you about the heavenly sent receptionists. These ones can make you start dating immediately after a deadly heartbreak. They look at you in the eyes and offer you tea even if you have requested for a glass of water. You will never see them bend their heads together like cows chewing cud at dusk in a wicked homestead whispering stuff in your presence. Those ones can even carry you to the washrooms and if they figure out you are having a running stomach, they can organise an ambulance and say a prayer for you. The way they usher you into those offices want you to walk out and walk in again just to have another opportunity to experience the love.

I will however not be quick to crucify any of the two groups as I have personally walked in their shoes for a number of months some years back. I am not sure if my pregnancy hormones had taken the better part of me or maybe I just joined the bandwagon and enjoyed the ride. All I can say is the mood swings I had at the front office are enough to fill buckets of emotions. Whatever the case, can we all agree to give each other a nice experience?