Elaine Abery- Wind

“Hi. I’m just ringing to check that my appointment this week is on Wednesday at 2pm, and not this morning.”

“I have you in for 9am on Wednesday with Tracey.”

My facial muscles tense as I try very hard to hold my voice steady and respectful.

“Tracey offered us 2pm Wednesdays. I rang back the same day to take that appointment. We cannot do 9am on Wednesdays.

The person I spoke to said they would pass on the message to Tracey.”

“I’ll have to message Tracey and ask her to contact you. I can’t see that in our calendar.”

“Thank you.”

I feel really hot. I stand up. Unable to stay still, I pace rapidly to and fro, in circles. I’m sweating.

“Why is it so bloody hot in here?”

I turn on the fan. I turn the fan higher. I stand in front of it. I lie down in front of it. I move it to a seat and sit down to absorb the cool wind from the fan.

“Why can’t anyone do their job properly?"

“How hard is it to pass on a message and get it right? They KNOW how vital the appointment is! 9AM will create a raft of new problems."

“But no! Nobody will give you their contact details anymore. No emails. No phone numbers. Ring the central area and whoever picks up the phone might pass on the message. Or they might not. They might get the message contents right. Then again, they might not.”

DING

Hi. It’s Tracey. I don’t have access to a phone to ring you right now. I have a meeting at 2pm this Wednesday. I can do 9am this Wednesday. From next Wednesday, I can offer Wednesdays at 2pm.

YES PLEASE, I quickly and frantically type. WEDNESDAYS at 2pm!

DING! DING!

Message send failure.

“What?”

Sure enough, further down the SMS, it says ‘do not respond to this number.’

I dial the general reception number again.

Pacing to and fro.

“It’s so hot in here!”

I return to the cool wind of the fan. My body wants cool and it wants to move, to expend this frustrated energy.

“Hi.” I go through the spiel of introducing myself again, to another new person.

“We absolutely want to take the 2pm appointment every Wednesday, from next week, with Tracey."

“We can’t do 9am Wednesdays.”

Oh crap! What if they muddle the message and say “CANNOT” going forward?

“And from next week onwards, we would like to see Tracey at 2pm every Wednesday.”

“Okay. I’ll pass on the message on to Tracey.”

My body is pacing again, hot as hell.

“Nobody will give their direct contact details. Anywhere. Anymore. You have to ring these central numbers and hope the correct message gets through."

“And if they get it wrong, they put a black mark against your name and kick you off the programme."

“Then, there will be no support. No help. And a stern letter on government letterhead.”