Month: October 2024

The Power of a Throwaway Comment

October 7,2024

It is always a treat to visit with an old friend, especially one from my university days, which, in my case, goes back decades. And especially those friends I have not seen in years who live far away from me. But that happened in June of this year when we visited my friend in Portland, OR. I last saw Levente over twenty years ago. And it is always amazing that when we see each other, we talk with each other as if time has not passed between our visits, as if we continue with our conversation from yesteryear.

When I phoned him about our upcoming visit, he surprised me with his solicitous comments about the foods we like, the wines we prefer, and what we would like to see in Portland. I assured him we are very flexible and enjoy all kinds of food. Depending on his available time, we would enjoy quiet conversations about our shared experiences at the University of British Columbia.

Levente welcomed us warmly in the same house we visited over twenty years ago. He bought this house when his job took him to Portland from Vancouver, British Columbia, and kept it when he moved to Huntsville, AL, with his job for many years. When he retired, he moved back to his house in Portland, and now, he enjoys the West Coast lifestyle and mild weather.  

We accepted his offer for lunch, and he began preparing for it as a management consultant, that he was for his career. “I am going to organize lunch,” he said, explaining that he’d open the fridge and see what cheeses and cold cuts he would find for us. Then, he offered a variety of breads and asked if anyone was vegan. And, of course, there was a choice of coffees that he said we could fix on his machine after describing how it worked.

I was surprised at his deliberate lunch organization, especially when he followed up by setting the table formally. At home, we usually consume an informal lunch with leftovers or whatever is quickly available.

After a day of visiting the famous Japanese gardens in Portland, we returned home to a surprise. Levente, it turned out, was going to cook dinner. Seeing him with ingredients, a cookbook, and pots on the stove was a revelation. Given his previous career, I couldn’t help but ask when he had started this hobby.

His wife answered my question with a few words. Having cooked for the family for decades, she was bored and tired of deciding on a menu every day and suggested to Levente that they share cooking: she cooks a week, and Levente cooks the following week. So, how did this idea go down? Levente considered the proposition as a retired management consultant, thought it was fair, and started cooking every second week. He said it was tough slogging for a few months, but following cookbooks with help from his wife, my old friend’s skill level improved to preparing entirely satisfactory meals.

Our conversation about Levente’s cooking arrangement was brief, but it left a lasting impression. I knew our kitchen dynamics were about to change, and I was ready to embrace it. My wife didn’t take long to broach the subject, and I was more than willing to go along with the idea.

I sometimes prepare breakfast, lunch, and an occasional dinner in our household, following recipes. My meals are simple compared to my wife’s excellent meals; she is a superb cook and enjoys cooking when she has the time. In addition to meal preparation, I also share doing the dishes. The idea of sharing dinner cooking was infectious, and if that idea worked for my friend, it should also work for us.

The idea materialized upon our return to Ottawa. At first, my wife continued to prepare the main meal, and I did some breakfasts and lunches, but one night, Kathy was tired and said it was time for me to take over for a week. I said, “Alright, but my meals may be simple.” She said she did not care; I could even bring home take-out foods. I said, “Alright, I’ll do the next five days’ dinners.”

I agreed to this arrangement because many ready-made foods are available now, so I thought providing five-day meals would not be difficult. Much of the grocery shopping is my territory, and I know my way around most grocery stores in our area, including Costco, where shopping is almost fun with all the samples offered.

My limited cooking skills have produced soups (I have made vegetables, cabbage, and lentil soups), green salads, sheet-pan chicken, and baked fish (I like Atlantic salmon and tilapia from Costco).

The first few days went well with me preparing the meals. Then Kathy joined her cooking club the next night, and the following days, we closed the cottage for the season. But we’ll likely proceed as agreed to, in spurts.

Preparing a dinner was new to me; I have done it. What was new was that my friend from college described how he and his wife share cooking, and a brief conversation on this subject suddenly made a massive difference for my wife and me. It gave a legitimizing impetus to pursue the sharing of the meal’s preparation more formally – all because of a throwaway comment by my old friend’s wife.

The Receptionless Reception Room

October 5, 2024

I approached the reception desk and leaned over to check in with the receptionist. To my surprise, no one was on the other side of the plastic partition. But a note was glued onto the divider to go to the corner of the room to check in. Following this instruction, I walked over to the dark corner of the room, where I found a three-foot high post with a touch screen on the top, the size of an iPad. On the screen, I had a choice of touching a box that said “talk to a human” or another that said “check in.” I thought of why not talk to a human being to check in as I used to, but my adventurous nature took over, and I punched the “check-in” button.

And lo and behold, another screen came up with an instruction to punch your name on the list of names on the right side of the screen. My name was there. I thought that this was fun and followed it. The next screen asked me to punch the day of my birth on the numerical sequence at the bottom of the screen. Following that, the screen came up with a large sign; “you are checked in.” I did not have further instructions, so I sat in the waiting room.

As I looked around, I noticed a large TV screen on the wall with names, including mine, each followed by a time period. Mine said five to ten minutes, presumably my waiting time. Ten minutes later, a voice announced my name, instructing me to go to room twelve, following the main hallway and turning left onto the second hallway.

So, I got up, strode as instructed, and found room twelve with a lighted panel next to the door with my name on it. Eureka! I found the office.

I went in and sat down, waiting for the next thing to happen. Before long, a staff member came in, attached a blood pressure cuff around my arm, and explained that the doctor would be here soon. I asked her half-jokingly whether it would be a robot or a human being.

Since I have been coming to this medical clinic, there has always been a reception clerk when you arrive, and staff has always come to the waiting room to take the clients to the examining room. The process I experienced this time was new and involved a learning curve that I found easy.

The human resources budget is likely the most significant component in some organizations, such as medical clinics. So, any idea that saves on personnel is desirable. I asked the nurse if anybody had lost employment due to this new procedure. She said no, but the clinic added new doctors serving additional clients requiring the services of all staff.

Leaving the office after talking with a real, human doctor and not a robot, I thought this new procedure to learn was easy and fun to follow, but is it easy for all other clinic clients? Put another way, was this a business initiative or a patient-centered idea? This new process may save the clinic money. Still, some of its clientele – seniors unfamiliar with current digital communication and immigrants with language difficulties – may have difficulties following the instructions.