Just Ducky

The young checker seemed to be struggling a bit that particular Friday morning.

“How you doin’?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m … fine,” he replied.

“Just ducky, eh?”

He looked up at me.  “Ducky?  Is that a word?”

“Uh … it was in my generation,” I said.

“Hmmm.”  He looked back at his scanner.  “Expanding my vocabulary,” he said.

“Yep.  You’re learning how to speak ‘Old Fart.’”

He tried to contain the chuckle, unsuccessfully.  “That might come in handy some day,” he said, grinning.

Yeah, I’m an Old Fart, but he was frowning when I got there and smiling when I left.

Stand By for Emergency Tones …

“Fall with injury.  Elderly woman, middle of the street, bleeding from the head.”

The dispatcher spoke in even tones, as she was trained to do, but when I heard the last four words, my heart sank and my eyes welled up.

I didn’t follow up on the call; I know the paramedics got there quickly, and I prefer to think that they were able to help her.

It’s ironic.  Had I been the dispatcher, the same emotions that drive my compassion would have slowed the call response and threatened the elderly woman’s life.

Thank God I’m just a computer guy.