It’s been a minute since my last blog. Have you ever noticed how things just really get busy during the springtime?
Graduations, bridal showers, holidays, luncheons that somehow require three outfit changes – it’s a lot.
Not to mention, it takes a little more effort to write something funny when the world itself is … not exactly serving comedy at its finest.
But I choose to find the funny in my everyday life. Honestly, I’m usually not even looking for it. It finds me like a heat-seeking missile with a sense of humor.
Today’s topic is observations.
Or, more accurately, i should have noted: –my observations -which, if you’ve been here before, you already know come with opinions, side commentary, and the occasional unnecessary deep dive.
Today’s focus?
Receptionists.
You know exactly who I’m talking about, right? Those lovely, perfectly pleasant, (sometimes) slightly terrifying people who hold all the power in the palm of their hand between you and … uh, everything. The doctor, the hair stylist, the dermatologist, the lawyer, the anything.
Just fill in the blank.
They are the human version of “access denied.”
Receptionists are the unofficial gatekeepers of civilization- part concierge, part detective, part low-level CIA operative with a headset and a suspicious amount of control over your actual destiny.
You don’t call an office, you’re literally screened. “May I ask what this is regarding?” somehow lands with the weight of a background check. Suddenly you’re over explaining why you need a haircut like you’re applying for international travel clearance.
“Yes, hi, it’s just … my ends are dry … but also, after this phone call emotionally I’m not well.”
They know everything. Who’s actually in the office, who’s “in a meeting” (translation: scrolling their phone and eating almonds), who’s avoiding whom, and which calls get through versus which ones are sent straight into the Bermuda Triangle of hold music.
And the hold music?
Oh, that’s not random.
Not random at all.
That is curated psychological warfare. Just long enough to make you question your patience, your purpose, and whether you even needed to make the appointment in the first place. I’ve aged in dog years while being put on hold.
And let’s talk about tone.
Receptionists can pivot faster than a seasoned diplomat. Warm, cheerful, “Of course, let me put you right through!” You feel like royalty. You’re practically waving from the balcony like Princess Kate. Two seconds later, a subtle shift in inflection and suddenly it’s, “I’ll take a message,” which we all know is code for this will go nowhere and no one will ever call you back again.
They have an internal ranking system, too. You can feel it in your bones.
There are the VIP callers who glide right through, regulars who get polite efficiency, and then the rest of us trying to sound important enough to make the cut.
You find yourself name-dropping, adding urgency, lowering your voice like you’re discussing classified information.
“Hi yes, it’s Karin … I believe she’s expecting my call, or that the doctor insisted I come back.”
She is not expecting your call. He doesn’t need you to come back. But in that moment, you commit to the role.
Pot committed.
And don’t even get me started on the scheduling.
“I’m sorry, Karin, Dr. So-and-So is booked for the next three months.”
Three months?
That’s not a wait time, that’s a trimester. I could grow a human before I get a skin check. How does this even happen? Is there a secret sign-up list I missed? Do people line up at dawn like for concert tickets? Is there a code? A handshake? A blood oath?
Or -and hear me out -maybe we are all being completely hoodwinked. Yes, I said it. Hoodwinked. An old word, but it still hits.
Maybe they are creating an illusion of scarcity so powerful that it drives demand. Like a luxury brand. Oh, you can’t get in? Well, now you really want to get in. Suddenly we’re begging for a Tuesday at 4:45 three months from now like it’s front row at Fashion Week.
And I swear there’s a secret society. There has to be. A private training program where they learn phrases like, “Let me check on that for you” (they already know the answer is no), “I can squeeze you in” (you have just been chosen with the Wonka ticket), and the ultimate power move, “I’ll see what I can do.”
What they can do … is everything.
And yet, we need them. They are the thin, organized line between us and complete chaos. Without them, offices would descend into missed calls, double bookings, and people just showing up hoping for the best like it’s 1987.
With them, everything runs … but it runs, selectively.
Honestly, if the CIA ever needs recruits, they don’t need a job posting. They just need to walk into any doctor’s office, look behind the desk, and quietly say, “We’ve been watching you.”
And the receptionist would prob just nod … and ask them to hold.
That’s my Reveal for the week.
Love,
Karin
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