You never really envisioned working front desk to in one of the busiest clinics in the city. 

Three years ago, you were set to apply for medical transcription or referrals - anything from the same category but since there hadn’t been any private practices or hospitals looking for a new hire after graduation (and you obviously didn’t want to rot at home as a basement dweller without a job you promised your parents you could easily tackle now that you have a college diploma) you found yourself applying for any admin or clinical positions.

You didn’t care about the locations at all, though you made sure none were an hour away (that’s a waste of gas! your sister remarked) and settled for the a good starting wage. You were expecting around $19 per hour even if it’s a bit of a reach since you don’t have any formal experiences but that didn’t stop you from applying twice or thrice to clinics that meet your desired starting wage.

It was after a month that you finally ended up doing an interview for a clinic thirty minutes from home. You tried not to gag the night before. It’s a huge one  - large windows, white-washed, one floor, lots of social work departments with Primary Care attached to the side and it’s in a suburban area. You were given the impression that you’ll be working for Primary Care, specifically front desk and you were excited about what it’d be like for you if they were to hire you for the job - you, in your little cubicle directing and helping clients with their medical-related inquiries, typing away with your fast hands and impressive word type count… gossiping with your co-workers when it’s down time… It looked and sounded just as fun and you weren’t wrong about that at all from day one even if you didn’t feel like the whole interview went well.

The interviewer, PC manager, was too obnoxiously serious and you couldn’t make her smile at all but her secretary liked you enough, or so you thought. She did give you a pat on the back on the way out though, so you couldn’t help but be hopeful even if you were already considering attending another interview at a new hospital somewhere in the bustling downtown.  

They ended up hiring you the day after much to your surprise. You actually thought you might have butchered your chance after the manager asked you to name five of the programs they offer and you couldn’t name much other than yoga wellness, CIVP and the blasted foot care that fried your head because for some reason, you couldn’t remember what it was called until the picture of a foot care nurse cutting toenails from the clinic’s official website flashed into your train of thought, so in the end,  your family took you to a quaint Mexican restaurant for a little celebration for your first “big-girl” job. 

You were just casually squeezing lime on your beef tacos when your sister told you to brace yourself and get a good amount of sleep on your first day. She wasn’t suggesting it either, it sounded like a military order.

“Why?” You raise a brow at her very ominous tone. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, trust me. They hired you right away because they’re also desperate for help! But doesn’t mean I’m saying it’ll tear you a part - I mean yeah it will, but you gotta fix your sleep schedule now.” She smiles, jabbing a finger to my spare fork. “You using that?”

“No.” You rolled your eyes, handing her your spare with a scowl. “And I will sleep early tonight!”  

“Yeah, like you weren’t just laughing like a baboon at 2 am last night because of Tiktok…”

“What!” Your mom interjects this time, eyeing you like you offended her and her entire side of the family. “I told you to not stay up late! You won’t grow anymore!”

“Mom, I’m literally twenty-five…” You take a bite from your food, almost coughing at your midst. You watch your dad push a glass of water to your side, highly concerned. “I think we’re done with the growth spurt thing. I’m gonna be five feet and two inches for the rest of my life.” 

“She got that from you, darling.” Your dad chuckled teasingly only to howl out an ow! when your mom pinched his elbow. 

“Whatever! Like you’re any better.” She shakes her head almost theatrically. Your dad and sister could only snicker as you mentally chuck invisible daggers at both of them, especially your nosy sister.

You made sure you actually snored through the eight-hour sleep that night and even got up a little early to shower and prepare yourself for your first day which went exceptionally well, considering that it was such a busy Monday and you shadowed a co-worker the entire time.

You were able to get a hold of your duties pretty quickly (took you a month) and handled most of it alone even if there were minor slip-ups in between (you once booked the wrong person for the wrong type of appointment but the Doctor overseeing the whole appointment didn’t make a big deal about it and even volunteered to explain the whole thing to the patient, and other things. You bought them a small snack from a coffee shop as your way of apologizing) but the mistakes slowly decreased overtime until you celebrated your second year working for the clinic which lead your closest co-workers to book a table at a popular pub downtown. 

You drove two of your equally drunk co-workers home, quite thankful that you’ve only had two shots of the delicious “pink lemonade” and didn’t end up spiralling and falling downstairs of the pub. You thought a street sweeper would be the one to drag you to an Uber now that your other co-workers were gone (they left early because they actually have little kids they need to tuck in bed) but thanks to your bloated (and very full stomach) you were able to stay on your feet and host your two co-workers in the back seat of your car with a help of a very strong-looking stranger who was sitting behind your booth with his hockey-jersey wearing friends. 

“Thank you and I’m so sorry,” You pant only to grimace at  the spot where you co-worker threw up. You thanked the heavens their stomach decided to betray them before they puked all over your seats. 

Goddamn Chantal!

“No probs! Safe drive home!” 

You quickly wave him a goodbye and reeved off the side-street, trying your best to drive faster like you were in the Gotham City as Batman in his slick black Bat mobile (you drive a beat-up silver sedan), chasing after the villain. 

You get back home at approximately two in the morning due to an “unforeseen” delay. Your co-worker, Stella was sober enough to unlock her door with her fiancé guiding her inside. Chantal, however, lived alone (her boyfriend currently resides up north so they’re in a long distance relationship until then) so you had to help her inside her house, drag her to her to the couch for her to sprawl onto. You grab some Motrin for incoming headaches, a glass of water and a croissant you found in her kitchen and left it by the ottoman in case she wakes up. You made sure her front door is locked and secured (thank god! She has one of those high-tech door locks with a number pad!) before you drove home, aching for a quick shower but not without cursing at the fact that it’s only Thursday which meant you still have work tomorrow. 

Fridays are usually quiet, you thought as you ignore the throbbing headache and hangover assaulting your nerves in broad daylight. 

You yank a banana and a vanilla yoghurt from your tote and busied yourself with incoming documents. You’re stationed at the back cubicle today due to being short-staffed (Chantal called in - you remind yourself to text her if she wants some chicken noodle soup to aid that nasty hangover) since there were enough front staff to help out the front so you take it easy, wolfing down your breakfast. 

The workload remained steady which you were grateful for. It was so manageable, you could even jam to music right now but you forgot your headphones back home and your spare ones are not the best quality (very static-y, hurts your ears) since you only use it for virtual meetings with the board of director and her minions.

By lunch time, you stop by the convenience store next door to buy a birthday card for your sister’s 21st birthday and some pack of triple a batteries (they’re on sale!) for new keyboard back home before you spend the last fifteen minutes shutting yourself from the world with your Kindle app. You were just freaking out over the slow-burn between the two leads from the novel when your alarm rang, almost rendering you deaf.

By 1:45 pm, you’re back typing away, too busy reviewing another physical assessment from an oncologist when Kaya, hallway runner/vitals assistant, pushed themselves into your cubicle, tapping your shoulder rapidly. 

“Hey boo!” She grins at you, her grocery store caesar salad on-hand. “Can you step in and do vitals for Dr. Russell since Chantal can’t cover for me? I’m going on my late lunch. He just has one patient until I’m back.” 

“Sureee!” You quickly finish up with the document and lock your computer. “When’s the next one?” 

“In like twenty minutes. I forgot the name but you’ll see it by the laptop in the hall.” She sighs apologetically. “Dr. Russell is using room six! It’s already clean and good to go!”

“Thanks girl, leave it to me!” 

You’re already on your feet now, hot on heels. You urge Kaya to go have her lunch already which she thanks you for and makes a run of it. You get it, lunch is essential especially when it comes to this type of job.

Vitals are easiest to do, but it’s physically challenging. You don’t mind stepping in to do a few though especially when it’s a full house and it’s not a one-person job anymore, and plus, running in your extremely soft sneakers make you feel like you’re in some sort of a diner game, trying to serve customers their food before they get furious if you’re too damn slow…

You find yourself tucked into a small corner of the wide hallway. It’s quiet at the moment, with a few doors closed meaning there are clients being seen inside so you scroll across the scheduling template, looking for Dr. Russell’s name and his next client. 

“It says they’re already here. Nice!” 

Early patients are the best thing to ever happen, you think, because it gives you sufficient time (if not, more) to take their vitals and throw in some light conversation about the weather, how they’re feeling, etc. to keep them relaxed before they meet their Doctor. 1/4 of the patients within the catchment, you find, are quiet anxious whether it’s their first or on-going visit. It’s one thing you realize during your first year so even if they don’t come in early, you try your best to talk to them to hopefully remove some of the weight resting on their shoulders, and for the most part you do succeed winning their hearts. Some of them would even come back and leave pastries or chocolates for you and your co-workers.

It get a bit intense when Christmas is around though, but you never complain. Not when you get to take home a whole box of Christmas cookies and occasionally, a whole box of cold brew from Second Cup, and if they’re that thankful for you alone, they’d even give you mini hand creams from costly, boho-chic shops like Anthropologie. 

You smile at the pleasant memory, hand reaching over a pen to jot down the client’s name when you squint at their full demographics displayed on the bright screen. 

Suddenly, you fight the urge to throw up your lunch. 

“Oh my god, no.” You take a sharp inhale, double-clicking his name and file which you immediately click out off, not wanting to get in trouble for “snooping” through their chart. 

Oh Sehun. Sehun Oh. 

You dramatically clamp a hand on your mouth, drowning the impending doom of curses threatening to spill. 

That son of a ! !

Compared to the rest of the patients treating you like their o