I opened the door and walked into the waiting room. Fluorescent lights, plaid upholstered chairs lined up like soldiers against a wall with bad art. I signed in (as instructed) at the check-in desk and took a seat. A People magazine from June of last year sat all dog-eared for me to read. The hiss of silence ringing in my ears. I hate waiting. Movement behind the greeter station. I must be next. A woman checks the clipboard, looks out at the waiting room and says “Miss Way-more?” Struggling with my name.

I follow her to the back. I’m anticipating the scale. I HATE being weighed and her botching of my name makes me even more anxious. Was that intentional? I’m ready to drop my purse, kick of shoes and coat, large jewelry…anything to Way-less…..
Oh but wait – I’m not at the doctor, I’m at my credit union.

I’m escorted to an office cluttered with Happy Meal toys and pictures of kids and cruise ship excursions and funny quotes that appear to be third generation copies scotch taped to the front of the panels on the cube that are supposed to “hide” clutter.

Piles of files are on a credenza behind her and a pile next to the computer. I wonder if I’m adding to that with my request. She parts some brochure racks (like the red sea) as she slides a form with boxes so tiny I have to pull out my glasses to read the instructions. This, is my “application” for membership, she explains. As I fill it out she moves papers around, leans in and squints at her monitor. Types a few things on the keyboard.

FADE TO BLACK…..A figure emerges from stage left:

“Does this scene look familiar? If you were to start a credit union today would you set it up this way? Would you build the first impression to mirror a doctor’s office waiting room? Would you hire an interior designer that would scour E-Bay looking for old trinkets from Happy Meals so you could carefully mount them on top of your monitor? Would you really make members SIGN IN to JOIN??”

I didn’t think so…………