Last week, I ventured into my annual, of what I like refer to as, the oil change and tire rotation. This is what typical women call an OBGYN yearly visit. I just like to spin it into something else. Makes the whole event less awkward. My belief is if you can make small talk during this very invasive visit, you can conquer the world. But, that isn’t the plot of this story. The actual awkwardness started long before I was even called back to the room.
I entered the waiting room and strolled over to the available kiosk. The position of the machine had a considerable height difference than me. I had to tilt my head back to even see the screen. There was a part in the check-in process where it asked for my photo. This was going to be a challenge since I’m short, so I positioned myself on my tip toes and pressed the button. No image was taken, so I retook it three different times. Please know that there were two people behind me. I’m sure they were entertained by my repositioning myself with no result. Then a miracle happened. I reread the instructions. It wasn’t asking for my photo. It wanted my photo ID. Yep. My awkward small talk that would happen later would be nothing compared to the idiotic repositioning of myself for a photo that wasn’t asked for. As I finished, I shuffled over to a seat and made sure not to make eye contact with anyone.
Just another day in my life.