The people waiting for criminal court have the same waiting area.
I grabbed a small waiting number from the advisor’s door and sat to watch East County’s finest criminals.
Conversations filled the air…
‘You probably won’t get arrested but they will put you in handcuffs. Ugh. I hate the feeling of handcuffs.’
‘The people out by my car? Those are bill collectors. I don’t have my address registered and they noticed I’d be here today. I’ll just stay here until they get tired.’
‘So the story is… I didn’t see anything right?’
I sank lower and lower into my seat praying for the advisor to hurry. After what seemed like decades, she came out, looked at my blue ticket and asked if I were waiting for her. I would have said, ‘DUH!’ but was so grateful to be saved from sure death by association with white trash, I forgave her.
‘It’s a good thing I noticed your number ticket, I was just about to close up. I thought you were waiting for the criminal court’ the she said to me.
I looked down at myself.
Nice jeans, nice wrap shirt, nice shoes, perfectly curled hair, and painstakingly applied make-up.
What part of me looks like I’m waiting for criminal court?
I was hoping she’d amend her statement and say, ‘White collar crime of course’ but she didn’t.