Joe arrived ten minutes early.
The receptionist checked his name on the screen.
“Please wait in the waiting room,” she said. “You will be called soon.”
The room contained eight chairs, a low table covered with magazines and a plant beside the window. Quiet instrumental music played from a speaker in the ceiling.
Joe chose a chair facing the corridor.
At the scheduled time, he put his phone away and waited for his name.
A door opened.
Someone else was called.
Joe picked up a magazine. He turned through it, read half an article and checked the time again.
Fifteen minutes had passed.
Another door opened. Another name was called.
After half an hour, Joe returned to reception.
“When will I be called?” he asked. “I’m getting hungry, and I was planning to eat after the appointment.”
The receptionist looked at the screen.
“You will be called soon.”
“How soon?”
“Your comfort is our priority. You can order something here.”
She handed him a menu.
Joe looked at it.
“In the waiting room?”
“Of course.”
He ordered soup and a sandwich.
A small table was brought in and placed beside his chair. His food arrived on a tray with proper cutlery, a cloth napkin and a glass of water.
Joe ate while doors opened and names were called from the corridor.
When he finished, the tray was taken away.
He checked the time.
Another forty minutes had passed.
Joe returned to reception.
“When will I be called?” he asked. “I’ve been sitting there for over an hour.”
“You will be called soon.”
Joe waited.
The receptionist smiled.
“Your comfort is our priority.”
“There’s nothing to do in there except read old magazines.”
“We can provide something better.”
Two members of staff wheeled a television into the waiting room. They placed it opposite Joe’s chair, connected it and handed him a remote.
Joe found a film and sat down.
The waiting room began to fill and empty around him. People arrived, sat for a while, heard their names and disappeared through different doors.
The film ended.
Another began automatically.
Joe checked the time again.
It was late afternoon.
He returned to reception.
“When will I be called?” he asked. “I’m getting sleepy.”
“You will be called soon.”
The receptionist typed something.
“Your comfort is our priority.”
Joe’s chair was replaced with a recliner. A footrest was placed in front of it. Someone brought him a pillow and a folded blanket. The lights above his side of the room were lowered.
Joe lay back.
The television continued playing.
Names were called from the corridor. Doors opened and closed. Shoes crossed the floor. Voices faded behind the walls.
Joe slept.
When he woke, it was getting dark outside.
He adjusted the pillow and watched the television for a while. He did not check the time.
Eventually, he returned to reception.
“If I’m going to be here longer,” he said, “could you bring me something more interesting than television?”
The receptionist did not look at the screen this time.
“Certainly. Your comfort is our priority.”
A games console was brought in and connected beneath the television. A controller was placed on the table beside Joe’s recliner.
Joe chose a football game.
A man entered the waiting room and sat in a nearby chair. After watching for a few minutes, he nodded towards the screen.
“That’s a good idea. Makes the waiting easier.”
“I got them to bring it in,” Joe said.
The man smiled.
“Can two people play?”
Joe checked the menu.
“Yes.”
The man moved closer. His name was David.
They played one match, then another. Between games, they talked about football, work and people they both found irritating.
A name was called from the corridor.
Neither of them moved.
Joe paused the game and returned to reception.
“If we’re going to be here longer,” he said, “could you bring another comfortable chair? And maybe something to drink?”
“Of course.”
A second recliner was placed beside Joe’s. A wider table was brought in between them. Whiskey arrived in two heavy glasses, along with ice, salted nuts and a small plate of sandwiches.
David lifted his glass.
“They really look after you here.”
Joe looked at the television, the two recliners, the food, the whiskey and the blanket across his legs.
“Your comfort is their priority,” he said.
They continued playing.
The room changed as the evening went on. The music was turned off. The lights were dimmed further. Their coats were placed in a small locker near the wall. Someone brought another bowl of nuts without being asked.
People continued to arrive.
Names continued to be called.
Doors continued to open and close.
Joe stopped hearing the names clearly. They had become part of the room, like the hum of the ventilation or the sound of ice moving inside his glass.
He no longer remembered the last time he had asked when he would be called.
He and David started another match.
Joe was leading by one goal when a door opened at the end of the corridor.
“Joe?”
He kept his eyes on the television.
David paused the game.
“Was that you?”
Joe looked towards the door.
A member of staff stood there waiting.
“Joe?” she called again.
For a moment, he remembered arriving that morning. The hard chair. The magazines. The ten minutes before his appointment.
The memory felt strangely unrelated to the room he was now sitting in.
His whiskey was beside him. The blanket was warm over his legs. The game was unfinished.
David held the controller in both hands.
“Aren’t you going?”
Joe looked at the open door, then back at the screen.
“They can call me again later,” he said.
The staff member waited a few seconds longer.
Then the door closed.
