Pardon the Construction: Our Plastic Surgery Clinic Is Undergoing a Face Lift, by Jeremy Blachman
Please accept our apologies for the condition of our waiting room and interior offices. Although we pride ourselves on our appearance, you may have noticed that our wallpaper is beginning to buckle, our bookshelves are starting to sag, and our upholstery has suffered a bit of discoloration. Just a little, but small problems can lead to bigger ones. Which is why we must apologize for the inconvenience as our plastic surgery clinic undergoes a face lift.
We’ll be pulling the rug as tight as we can, and turning the walls a completely different color than they currently are. We’ll also be injecting some material from the couch cushions into the ceiling, although we’re not entirely sure why. Be warned that this material may drip as it settles. We’ve removed 80% of the papers from our file cabinets and replaced them with expandable silicone inserts. If your medical file has been replaced by a balloon filled with gel, we apologize for the inconvenience.
Do not under any circumstances block the mirrors in the waiting room. The room needs to see itself at all times. If anyone asks you when the clinic opened, we ask that you do not give its real age. The clinic, as far as anyone is to know, opened in 2009 and these are its original furnishings. If you were a patient prior to 2009, all of your earlier records have been pulverized and turned into a paper-based anti-aging cream we are selling in the gift shop for $39.95.
Shoes should now be removed before entering the clinic, to avoid damaging our hardwood surface. In an effort to reduce lint and dust, we also ask that you remove your socks. Toenails should be filed to avoid potential surface scratches. Feet, for now, remain acceptable in the office but we reserve the right to amend that policy. If you use a cane, walker, or wheelchair, please leave it at the entrance. The floor is so smooth and blemish-free, you can just glide on in.
You may notice there are no longer any windows in the clinic, to avoid the possibility of sun damage. You may also notice the clinic is now spinning in circles. It is trying to burn calories. Do not be alarmed, and certainly do not call attention to it. The clinic is self-conscious about its weight. For obvious reasons, you may no longer bring food to your appointments. All food will be confiscated by the model at the door. She may not look it, but (thanks to us) she’s actually a hundred and twelve years of age.
Some of you have claimed you can still see the outline of where the old clinic walls used to be, and that the seams on the wallpaper look entirely unnatural, especially since there is now hair growing out of places from where it never before grew. This is an optical illusion. The clinic is perfect. No one can tell that any work has been done. The redness is natural, and so is the pain the clinic may be feeling. Please refrain from sitting down for the next few weeks. It hurts the clinic too much when you touch the seats. Ow. Yikes.
We’re serious—please get up. It hurts.
Jeremy Blachman is the author of Anonymous Lawyer (Henry Holt, 2006). He writes humor pieces for publications including McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, The Barnes & Noble Review, and The Bygone Bureau. Follow him on Twitter, visit Anonymous Law Firm, or check out his work at JeremyBlachman.com.
The Humor Section features a piece of original humor writing each week. To submit, send an email to Brian Boone.