Suite 200, Edina
Milo had to take a piss test for his new temp job in plastics. I went along. The waiting room of this tiny lab was packed. The chairs were either wood or plastic, either way, uncomfortable. There were people, with a lot of gel in their hair, who seemed like they might not pass the test. There was also an elderly woman. I wondered what her vice was. The lab technicians insisted that everyone signing in “help themselves” to the water cooler. Then the technicians made everyone and their full bladders wait. And wait. Damn sadists. I spent a good part of the forty minutes counting the pharmacutical ads in the many issues of Ladies Homes Journals (57).