Chicago Boyz Waiting Room Series: 5
5 thoughts on “Chicago Boyz Waiting Room Series: 5”
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Some Chicago Boyz know each other from student days at the University of Chicago. Others are Chicago boys in spirit. The blog name is also intended as a good-humored gesture of admiration for distinguished Chicago School economists and fellow travelers.
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The Spartan elegance is rather spoiled by a dismal paper on the wall by the hatch.
The earth tones and the informal seating arrangement detract from the clinical austerity and foreboding opaque receptionist window.
I refused to have an enclosed front desk in my office. Of course, that was before Obamacare when dinosaurs roamed the earth,
My ex worked for the welfare department (they have another, p.c. term for it now) right out of high school. Often I would drop by the waiting room to pick her up after work. In those days it was still marred, carved up wooden benches, the hapless receptionist seated in a box behind a plate glass window with a hole in the middle and a slot to slide paperwork through at the bottom.
The image of a recipient, screaming obscenities, with their hand thrusting through the hole up to the forearm endures. I guess nowadays everything is done online, but intake must still be relatively colorful.
It looks as though the close quarters ensures ample opportunity to fully get to know your fellow waitees.