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Name… Date of Birth?

“John Kendall. Twelve-five-eighty-five.”

“Have a seat. Someone will call you soon.”

Without looking up from her computer, the woman at the desk—her name badge read Judy—slid the glass partition shut with a thud.

John Kendall did as he was told and took a seat in the waiting area.

He was so nervous. John really needed the opinion of this heart surgeon.  He was scheduled to see Dr. Sorenson, the world-renowned heart specialist.

Another person walked through the door.

The elderly gentleman waited patiently. As he looked around the room, he noticed many others ahead of him.

Judy gave a look of disgust, glancing at her coworker. She slid the glass open.

“Name… date of birth?” she said, her voice thick with annoyance.

“Hello. Good afternoon… Judy,” the man replied warmly, reading her badge.
 “I hope you’re having a nice day, ladies,” he added, addressing the cramped office.

“Yes.” Judy repeated herself, louder this time. “Name… date of birth?” She actually looked at him now.

“Oh yes, Judy, I’m so sorry to hold you up. I’m running a little slow today.

I have an appointment with Dr. Sorenson at 10 a.m. I can tell you—I think he’s the best heart doctor around. He saved my life.”

He rummaged through his wallet.

“I have my appointment card somewhere in here. Do you need it, Judy?”

“No. I don’t want that card. That’s for you, not me, sir. Now—what is your name and date of birth?”

The older man cupped a hand to his ear. “What’s that you need, Judy?”

John Kendall stood and walked over as a few cards slipped from the man’s wallet.

“Here, sir—you dropped these.” He handed them back.
 “Can I give you a hand? Judy needs to find out who you are and check you in.” John spoke a little louder, a little closer.

“Oh yes, young man. That would be terrific.” The older man reached out a hand.
 “I’m Harold Merritt. Nice to meet you. What did you say your name was?”

“I’m John. When’s your birthday, Harold?” John asked, glancing toward Judy.

“My birthday? Well, my birthday is the sixth of November.” He was still shaking John’s hand.

“What year, Harold?”

“I was born in 1928. A long time ago.” Harold chuckled, finally letting go.

John turned to Judy, who was clearly frustrated with the whole situation.

“Harold Merritt. Date of birth, November 6th, 1928. Just in case you didn’t get that, Judy.”
 He tried not to sound condescending—but it was hard.

“Tell him to have a seat,” Judy said bluntly.

John leaned into the open window.

“Judy, what I’d like to see from you is just one thing: try to be a nicer person today. Starting today, anyway. Then try carrying it over to tomorrow, and on and on. It can be contagious… niceness, that is.

“Whatever trouble you might be having—at work or at home—be nice to people.

Some might say your job isn’t important. But I would say otherwise. Your job is very important. You’re the first face we see.

Older folks who maybe can’t hear, or who just want to talk to a really nice lady like yourself… they need someone like you.” John continued.

“Because Judy, I think you are a nice person.

“Now, if Harold here has any problems, I want you to help him. I don’t think it should be up to me—or anyone else in this room—to do that part of your job. Got it, Judy?”

Judy’s mouth was open in shock.

She said, “Yes, will do.” And managed to smile at John.

John turned to Harold, “Come, buddy, let’s have a seat. I think they’re busy here today, so we may have a bit of a wait.”

The others in the waiting room had taken notice, looking at John in amazement, one woman started to clap. Soon they were all clapping.

The next patient who went to the window to check in was greeted with a pleasant Judy. She said, “Good morning, sir, may I have your name and birthday? Is the sun still shining outside, or are the clouds coming in?”

After a while, the patients were called in one by one, and the waiting room was cleared.

Judy finished her day with a drive to the nursing home for supper with Mom.

Tonight, she stopped at McDonald’s to bring a Big Mac and fries—a treat instead of the usual nursing home food. Mom’s favorite.

As they ate together, her mom asked about her day.

“Anything interesting happen today?”

“Yeah, Mom. I learned patience today—from my patient,” Judy said.