Practicing Patience is Trying Sometimes

I'll be the first to admit that I am not the most patient person in the world. I have a lot of nervous energy and I'm at my best when some part of me is moving in purposeful pursuit of getting something done... that's why I like doing housework (the grungier the better). Today I was charged with taking Gerry's car in for a service call. I was prepared for the two hour sit with a book and my notebook for writing, knowing that I would still be able to meet my daughter for lunch at the mall. Well, when I got there I was informed that the work would take about 3 1/2 hours... I let out an audible groan. The nice man behind counter, told me he would try to put two workers on the job and reduce the time it took. Now I felt bad because I knew he heard my annoyance, and I never realize how much what I'm thinking comes out in my body language (I probably also rolled my eyes when he said 3 1/2 hours). I took my seat with several other women about my age and decided to start my reading with a gossip magazine... poor Farrah would probably not have complained about having to wait around a car dealership. A TV was blaring some crazy news story about an athlete losing a nipple and I noticed all the women sitting there glanced briefly at such a ridiculous "news" event and scowled back at their reading material. After my fill of celebrity tales and woes, I switched over to my novel. It is a historical fiction set in Edwardian England and in this little office with a TV blaring, workman strolling in and out with their bellowing banter, and the whizz and whir of mechanical machines, I just could not get into the pastoral scenes in the English countryside. Two hours went by and I had to get up and move. I went outside and took a walk around the parking lot and pretended to be interested in all the new models of Subaru as I enjoyed the heat under the noon sun. So far, so good... two hours and I didn't feel that bad. I went back in to get a report on progress and was told that everything looked good and the car would be done by 1:00. I sat and started writing a memory from childhood... a happy one and a whole half hour went by. The other women patiently read, as I started kicking my leg, and shaking my ankle, and fidgeting in my seat. I was starving at this point, but the free coffee and sweet confections were off limits as they would just make me more hyped up and impatient. At 1:00 I jumped up and strolled over to the counter (the other women had long gone and a new set of patient waiters sat quietly in their chairs). "Is it almost done?" I wailed, "I'm starving." I even sounded pathetic to myself. "Just a few more minutes, miss, the guys are doing the road test, but I'll ring up your bill if you want." He chatted cheerfully as I tapped the credit card on the counter and tried to listen patiently so I could make some pleasant small talk response. I was almost at my limit, but I thanked him for saving me 15 minutes of the 31/2 hour wait. And I was very, very careful not to make it sound sarcastic.