Worth the Wait

I think one of the best perks today is the drive-thru window at Starbucks.  You can just sit in the car, order your caramel macchiato coffee drink, and then pull up to the window and pay.  Fast, fun, easy and you’re on your way.  Most of the time.  The other day my car was number eight in the drive-thru lane . . . too far back in line to even be considered fast.  Like everyone else, I don’t like waiting in long lines.  I decided it would be quicker to park and go inside and order.  The line inside was even longer, but by then I was committed.  So I placed my order and waited along with everyone else.  I silently observed everyone take out their cell phones to check their messages and e-mail.  Life is so different today.  Before cell phones everyone stood in line patiently.  For some reason I refrained from pulling out my cell phone.

My thoughts drifted back, years ago, to when I had another long wait.  I had agreed to pick up some passes for a White House tour for my boss.  Mr. Logie had assured me it would be a quick trip over the bridge into DC during the middle of the day.  A driver would drop me off and wait while I ran into the office near the White House to pick up the passes.

When I entered the Government building, I was greeted by several security guards.  I showed them my security badge and explained I was there to pick up White House passes.  One guard checked a roster, didn’t see my name, and walked me to an office.  I was given some forms to fill out and asked to show several ID cards.  A half-hour later I was still waiting.  I couldn’t imagine what was taking so long.  Mr. Logie had said this would be quick so I was surprised by all the security checks.  I wondered why they kept making phone calls, too.  Forty-five minutes later they were ready to take my photograph.  I couldn’t believe it.  “I don’t understand why I have to do all this just to pick up White House tour passes,” I respectfully commented.

It turned out that the Security Staff thought I needed a pass to work at the White House—and that’s why they were making so many phone calls and having me fill out my life story on the forms.  The situation was quickly resolved and I was escorted to the proper office.  Two minutes later, after picking up the White House tour passes, I was politely escorted out of the building.

I was relieved to see the staff car . . . the driver hadn’t abandoned me in spite of his long wait.  A few minutes later I was back at my office in Rosslyn, VA.  “I’m sorry that took so long,” Mr. Logie said when I handed him the passes.  “What in the world happened?”

I laughed as I explained the mix-up.  “I guess you could say I got to know the Security Staff quite well.  They even thought I should apply for a job at the White House.”

I seriously considered the suggestion for several weeks, but never followed up on the idea.  A few months later I met Sergei Kourdakov in my office in Rosslyn.  And meeting Sergei was worth the wait.