Waiting Rooms

Waiting rooms, irrespective of their cause, makes us anxious.

Be it a job interview, or in front of a labour ward, or even something as simple as waiting to get some paperwork done, waiting rooms always makes us anxious.

Because deep down, we know that several things could go wrong before it’s our turn.

Sitting in a waiting room is like being a step away from opening a Schrodinger’s box.

Until you go in, the thing you want to accomplish is both done and not done. You’ll know the result only when it’s your turn.

And to add to the anxiety, everything in a waiting room is designed to make us anxious and uncomfortable.

The unusual silence that makes you hear the clock tick. The coldness in the air. The uncomfortable metal chairs. The attendant in charge who speaks nothing except calling out your name when it’s your turn. It’s unpleasant.

Also, it is the only place where people hardly make friends. Because everyone is either worried about their own problem, or looking for away to cut the line.

If you ask me, the true measure of someone’s character is how they behave in waiting rooms and at traffic signals. I’ve seen a lot of people, who always speak about being righteous and doing the right thing, try cutting corners and getting ahead in line while waiting for something.

Like always, I can’t help but draw parallels between life and waiting rooms.

Life in itself is a big waiting room. We come in without knowing what’s in store for us. We wait for our turn where we figure out who we are and what’s our purpose.

We might get our turn in our 20s or in our 60s. We can never say. It will make us anxious. Will make us question our skills and intelligence. Will make us question everything around us, even life.

And yes, there will be people ready to cut the line and get ahead when it’s your turn.

It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is everyone gets their turn. We simply need to listen for our name being called when it’s our turn. Because missing our turn is not on life. It’s on us.