Loose Ends
Waiting room etiquette
Susan Nienow

I don't have to go over obvious rules, like not playing three sets of tennis on a hot day without showering before sitting in any waiting room. I am talking about little-known tips like: wear interesting shoes. You may be looking at them a lot.

The unspoken rule in a waiting room is that no one acknowledges the fact that we are with 15 other people. So we all look at our feet. Or we pull out our own entertainment. It has to be riveting so we don't have to look at other people. Teachers bring papers to grade, young mothers bring toys to entertain their children, and I sit thinking about the best seller I left on the kitchen counter.

This is when it helps to be wearing pretty shoes. Not only can I look at them, but whoever is around me can also enjoy them if they left their books at home, too. There is a direct relationship between the amount of time I have to wait for my name to be called and the quality of reading material available. I might be forced to flip through "Stone Magazine" or "Field and Creek" when staring at my feet begins to wear thin.

While I register and sit down in the hair salon waiting room, I can count on seeing three people I know and no one I know when my hair looks great as I leave. Some of the reading material is all about perfect hair so I don't even open those magazines. While I still avoid any signs of awareness that others are also waiting, the worst thing that any of us are there for is bad hair. So any looks of sympathy or knowing nods - as if I know what it must be like to have hair like "that" - are inappropriate.

The automotive repair shop waiting room is a cross section of people who are irritated that their car won't run or needs an inspection or makes funny noises. We are all wondering what the total cost will be or if someone will come out shaking his head, declaring repair a lost cause.

We are also watching the clock. We have places to go. I want the next name called to be mine because the longer they keep the car, the bigger the bill. Or that is the general thinking. Screaming if the final bill is under $100 is in poor taste. Think of the others still waiting.

My favorite waiting room is the vet's. Usually someone brings in a puppy or a kitten. Owners talk to each other, admiring everyone's pet, making kind comments about the mutt that is past his prime but still leans against his owner's knee. It is the one place where people understand if Fido has a nervous accident right at my feet.

But if you see me in the Social Security office waiting room, don't talk to me. And forget you ever saw me.