Stuck on the waiting, worrying side of life

February 2021

We’ve all been spending a lot of time the last few years staring at computer monitors. Sometimes we do it as a necessity, other times we do it for pleasure.

But more often than we realize, probably, we spend time looking at the back side of that rectangular slab of plastic.

There’s not much interesting to see, certainly, but think of all the times you’re forced to wait and watch as someone on the other side of a counter, desk, or window is tap-tap-tapping away on a computer keyboard in the process of making a transaction with you. They’re looking at a screen. You’re looking at that flat stretch of nearly featureless acrylonitrile butadiene styrene.

Click-click-click. They squint.

Click-click-click. They frown.

Click-click-click. They smile.

Click-click-click. They sigh.

Click-click-click-click-click. You wonder… what’s going on?

What are they seeing? Is it good news? Bad news?

Did they find that overdue library fine from 1988, that unpaid parking ticket from your trip to Seattle in 1972?

Did they unearth the data the supermarket spy system has been collecting about you? All the unhealthy snacks you’ve pushed through their check-out stations in the last 20 years? All the donuts? All the potato chips? All the high fructose corn syrup liquids you’ve swallowed?

You’re forced to wait in a state of suspended animation at the DMV when you renew your driver’s license, or buy this year’s little tag sticker. The clerk is in no hurry this morning, and you have plenty of time to wonder if that police cruiser idling outside in the parking lot could be waiting for you, or one of the other scofflaws waiting in line. Should you begin preparing an argument of mistaken identity?

The teller at the bank drive-through window seems to be having some misgivings about the authenticity of the check you’re trying to deposit. She’s turned her mic off, and is consulting with a manager she’s summoned to her work station. Or is it the $50 bill you’ve given her? Are they trying to determine if it’s counterfeit?

At the doctor’s office, the gatekeepers behind the Plexiglas window in the waiting room can’t find a record of the appointment you made. Could you spell your name again, please? Oh, there it is. Sorry! Wasn’t expecting it to be spelled that way. Go ahead and have a seat.

And when you’re leaving, and you stop at another window to make another appointment, it seems like a week passes while you’re waiting to learn that the next available date is in a month… or two, or three. My rash might be really red and itchy by then.

Through all these little ordeals you have no idea what the person on the other side of the counter is looking at on their screen. All you see is a featureless rectangle that looks just like the rectangle you saw a few hours ago at another office, and the one you saw the day before at still another office.

Sometimes the wait is so long, and the tap-tap-tapping is so intermittent, you wonder: Are they really working on your business? Maybe they’re just reading their email, or checking on the weather forecast for the weekend, or watching the monitor in the baby’s room at home.

When they suddenly smile, you wonder: Is it because of something that has nothing to do with you, with the business at hand? Is it just another funny picture of a funny sign at the car wash?

Now there’s an idea.

Why not mount a screen on the back of the monitor, so the people waiting for the people on the other side have something to look at, too? Maybe that funny car wash sign, or photos of clever church bulletin boards, or creative commercial come-ons. There are plenty of those floating around, for sure.

Too much chance of offending some humorless grouch? Then a “crawl” of headlines like you see at the bottom of your TV screen when you’re watching the news. Or an eagle-eye video of a glide across a snow mountain top. Or gentle waves washing a sandy beach.

(But no ads. Please, no ads.)

What if, heaven forbit, you could see what they’re seeing?

The folks who design and engineer the places where we spend too much time waiting for computers to cough up answers should spend time of their own looking at those little blank vistas. They’d realize those little moments add up. Minutes have a way of becoming hours.

The waiting side of life, the stuck-in-line side as opposed to the clicking-on-line side, doesn’t have to be boring or stressful.

Give us a little consideration.