“Can I get a bottom of wine…”
A drunk had wandered into the dentist office in downtown Baltimore while we were waiting to have our teeth cleaned.
“I’m sorry, sir. You’re going to have to leave,” said the blond woman at the desk. “This is a dentist office. You come here to get your teeth worked on. This isn’t a liquor store.”
“Wha…? I’m s’posed to be here… I think…my mother sent me down here…”
“Wait a minute,” said an older woman behind the desk. “That’s Henry. That’s Ms. Rogers son.”
The man was very drunk. His eyes were out of focus. He was about 40 years old…wearing what looked like a hunting jacket. Wobbling as he stood before the desk.
“Okay…” continued the blond woman. “Henry…we’re not going to work on your teeth if you’re drunk. You come back straight…and we’ll take you.
“Besides, your appointment is for tomorrow at 9:30…not today. You run along…and come back tomorrow at 9:30…and come back sober…okay?”
“Henry,” the older woman took up the conversation. “Do you have bus fare? How you gonna get home?”
“Bus fare…why? I’m not going anywhere…”
“Yes you are…” said the blond woman…and she escorted him to the door and pushed him outside.
Until next time,
for Markets and Money