I never dreamt I would be trying it out only days after I wrote the post: Humor For Persuasion
Here we go:
A seventy-plus friend in the neighborhood asked me to go with him to an eye hospital today afternoon. The appointment was for 2-15. Learning from prior experience – they don’t tell you this – we reached the hospital about 45 minutes to an hour earlier to complete the rounds of eye-drops for dilation and the initial examination by junior staff.
That finished we moved to the chief consulting doctor’s waiting hall. To our dismay, we saw a crowd that reminded us of Dadar Station at 6-00 in the evening after cancellation of two successive trains; we barely managed to find seats for ourselves. After settling down and allowing for a reasonable wait, I made polite inquiries at the counter and learnt we were third in the queue. Well, that wasn’t too bad. Perhaps the crowd included those waiting for other doctors sharing the same floor.
We busied ourselves looking at the hubbub in the hall interspersed with some casual chat. The commotion was largely owing to the doctors scurrying hither and thither shouting instructions to the staff while the patients waited up patiently – is that why they’re called so? – like dressed-up dummies. .
From time to time a junior doctor emerged from the doctor’s room and called out the next patient by name, never my friend’s. It was well past 3-00. I began to suspect the information we were third in the queue was incorrect. My misgivings were aggravated hearing from a couple sitting in front telling us they came in at 10-00 in the morning and haven’t met the doctor yet. In our earlier visits too, I recalled, there had been inordinately long waits.
At these places if you’ve noticed they always tell you when you whine you’re the next to go in. And you’re not. It is not uncommon to find yourself suddenly pushed down to five after being second in the queue. Unless you pester the St. Peter at the counter every few minutes or kick up a row your turn comes when they feel sorry for you or they have run out of patients.
Should I make a scene out there? I was in no mood for it. While I was contemplating on the next move – meanwhile my friend was resigned to his fate – they called for one ‘Kunju’. This was the third call for the inexplicably truant ‘Kunju’.
A sudden flash in my mind. I went up to the junior doctor and said assuming a properly aggrieved look and with no hint of offense:
‘My friend, you see him? This man was clean-shaven when we came in and look at him. You don’t trust me? Check on your CCTV records. Must warn you if you don’t take him anytime soon, he is going to claim he is the ‘Kunju’ you’re looking for. And he’s not. But I’ll be helpless to stop him.’
She fixed me – grey haired and nudging seventy – with an incredulous stare and from me to my friend. Appalled at my sheer brazenness he tried hard to hide his visage adorned by a ‘Narendra Modi’ beard behind a much-thumbed magazine that reported on the results of the General Elections. It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. The much harried looking girl suddenly relaxed and smiled. With a sympathizing nod she turned around and walked back to her station.
Needless to add my friend was taken inside in the next few minutes.
No voices raised, no ugly scenes, job done!
Source: Image from clipartlord com