Jane enters the reception area of a nursing home. She walks up to a worn laminate counter with a sign: Reception. There sits a middle aged woman, head down, at a desk, studying a calendar. She ignores Jane.
Jane stands patiently, waiting to be heard. Finally, the woman looks at Jane with a completely uninterested and terse smile. Raised eyebrows. Saying nothing.
Jane is looking at her, expectantly.
Finally, Jane speaks. “Hello.” Artificially cheery in tone. “I wonder if you might be able to tell me who manages this facility?”
The woman says nothing. She looks down at her desk, ignoring Jane.
Jane is starting to be irritated. “Is there a problem?”
The woman just looks at her. Slowly, she pulls open a drawer and removes a little plastic container. Retrieving a hearing aid, she jams it into her ear.
“Pardon me?”
“Are you the receptionist??… You’re deaf?”Jane sounds angry and puzzled and is looking around behind herself. They are alone. “I said, “ARE YOU THE…”
“I heard you. I am the manager. The receptionist had to run a few errands for me. What can I do for you?”
“I need to talk to someone in charge around here. I am a writer for the city paper… The Herald? I’m sure you’ve heard of us. You probably subscribe.” Jane is fishing around in her purse for her business card or a press pass.
“Why do you assume that I would subscribe to it? Do I look like your typical reader?”
Jane understands that she is off on the wrong foot. And begins to backpedal.
“Look… sorry…. I didn’t…”. Jane passes her business card to the manager.
She hardly glances at the business card, dropping it onto her desk. “Would you like to come to the point, Ms….?” She uses the same tone as a Grade 1 teacher talking down to her class. Patronizing.
“Yes, I called earlier. I left a message….”
The woman continues to stare at Jane without comment.
“I wanted to chat with someone about Mrs. Virginia? She used to run an orphanage? I think she lives her?”
“Do you have the authority to talk with her?”
“What do you mean?”
“She has a legal guardian. I don’t think they would want you chatting with her, just because you are nosy. Or feel like you have the right to come into our facility and chat with anyone you want. So, if you want to talk to her, you need to get the proper forms signed. By the people who have the right to authorize it.”
“Well, who is that? I would like to know who I have to…”
“I don’t think I can help you… Do you remember the way to the exit? It’s right behind you, through the doors. When you get out, look for your car; it will help you drive back to the city.”
“What? What is wrong with you? Why are you being so rude?”
“Have a good day.” The manager stands up, slowly. She pushes her chair into place very deliberately. Then, she walks around the counter and approaches a man standing near the exit doors, wearing a white lab coat. Bending in to talk with him, he turns to look at Jane. They turn their backs to Jane, gazing out into the parking lot.
Jane watches them, puzzled and angry. She turns to pick up her card from the countertop; but she doesn’t see it. Looking to the side of the work area, she peers into the waste bin. Her card lies crumpled up with food refuse. She stands looking down at it, pondering, as if she is considering retrieving it.
Jane looks back toward the manager and the man in white. They are monitoring her.
She changes her mind and walks quickly through the reception foyer, past them. They stand silently and emotionless, following Jane with their eyes, as she exits, walking to her car.