Every other week for the past two semesters the students in my Aging & Death class take a field trip to the nursing home to hangout and chit-chat with the residents. Every other week for two semesters all has gone well, until last week. So it goes.

The visit got off to a rough start due to some technical issues I was having with the front door to the nursing home. Like most nursing homes, there are two ways to enter and exit, rather, I should say that there are two ways for visitors to enter and exit. As for the residents, the ways and the reasons that they enter are many, whereas the way and the reason that they exit are few.

For visitors, there are two keypads by the door, one on the outside to be used to enter the facility, and one on the inside to be used to exit the facility. If you manage to punch in the correct four-digit code the door magically unlocks so that you may enter or you may flee. If you manage to punch in the wrong four-digit code the door buzzes a buzz that one might hear in response to a wrong answer on a quiz show or for not having a steady enough hand with the board game “Operation”.

First time visitors generally press the button labeled “Press Button for Assistance”, which alerts the personnel at the front desk that they need to mosey about 40-feet from their desk to the front door, punch in the code, and open the door. You can plainly see the personnel at the front desk through the window on the door, and through the window on the door you can plainly see the look of annoyance when the “Press Button for Assistance” is pressed.

Generally, scattered about in the 40-feet between the front desk and the front door, are a handful of residents working on puzzles, watching Gun Smoke, gazing at the birds flittering around the birdfeeder, napping, or just staring at you while you try and make pleasantly apologetic and appreciative eye contact with whomever the “Press Button for Assistance” has roused.

Rest assured that the roused will quickly inform you as to the four-digit code so that you can assist yourself rather than press the “Press Button for Assistance” button the next time you come or go from the facility. It will also be pointed out that in the event that you forget the four-digit code, it is written on the hand sanitizer dispenser next to the door. Information that will ratchet your pleasantly apologetic and appreciative expression up a few maniacal notches as you nod and smile like a bobble-head hoping to atone for the 80-feet of angstful movement your button pressing incited.

I’ve never been comfortable pressing buttons or ringing bells for assistance, I’d sooner mill around making rustling noises and clearing my throat than summon the chagrin of whomever has been tasked with responding to the buzzer or bell, so I was much relieved to acquire the four-digit code. Armed with the code I have entered and fled the nursing home without incident many times over the years…until last week.

Last week I punched in the four-digit code, pulled on the door, and “BUZZZZZ”. There it is, the chagrined look from the front desk personnel I’ve managed to avoid for so long. I quickly punch in the code again, pull the door, and “BUZZZZZ”.
The owner of the chagrined look is on the move, so I quickly check the code on the hand sanitizer dispenser, punch it in, pull the door, and “BUZZZZZ”. The chagrined is zigging and zagging through residents, interrupting Gun Smoke, scaring birds away from the birdfeeder, displacing puzzle pieces…I give it one more shot…”BUZZZZZ”.

The chagrined says (demands), “Just stop. It’s loud.” As I plead my case, reciting the code to her, she presses the same four numbers that I had entered, and “Click”…the door opens. As she stalks back to her desk there is a vast chagrin aura present about her whole person, and I apologize again as I walk by the desk. The apology apparently sounded like “BUZZZZZ” to her, as it elicited the same expression.

The door also buzzes if it is held open for more than 10-seconds, after which, the miffed personnel at the front desk has to come and reset the code to make the buzzing stop. I’m not sure why they chose 10-seconds? Nobody in there does anything in less than 10 minutes, so I am skeptical of anyone making a break for it in 10-seconds.

At the conclusion of our visit, I was holding the door open for my students…mentally counting down 10-seconds…4…3…2…just one more student to go…as the door is about to close behind us…”BUZZZZZZZZZ”…I fled and didn’t look back. I didn’t need to look back, I could feel twisted and jagged chagrin shrapnel lodging itself into my backside as I hustled across the parking lot.

I hope she’s on vacation next week. If not, I’ll just swing from the birdfeeder, bust through the picture window, and land on the puzzle table. Gun Smoke will be turned up loud enough that nobody will notice.