ArchivedLogs:Lost And Found

Lost And Found
Dramatis Personae Micah, Arturo
In Absentia	7 March 2014 Trying to find what's missing for the new doctor.
Location <NYC> Common Ground Clinic – Clinton
A dingy waiting room with a line of rickety chairs, a small glass table with a set of permanently out-of-date magazines, a set of plastic holding racks with a number of informational pamphlets about STIs and partner abuse. This place is not, to be sure, the most cheerful on earth, but for many of its clientele it is the best they have. The Common Ground Clinic's staff provides free and low-cost medical care on a sliding scale to many of Manhattan's poorest residents, without checking for insurance, immigration status or many other things that bar entry for many of them to traditional medical care. There is counselling available, too, and once a week social workers to help people find resources for getting on their feet. The wait times are long, but the volunteer staff here is dedicated (if always overworked.) It's getting late on a Friday afternoon with decent weather in the city and as such the waiting room is /stuffed/ with people. Those who needed to take time off from work and aimed for the end of the day or who had to walk their way into the Clinic swell the ranks of folks filling the chairs, staring at cell phones, reading magazines, and chatting in small groups. Micah has answered a call put in to him around noon to help staff the floundering front desk that was already one volunteer down due to illness, managing to rearrange a few of his own appointments to fill the gap. With no one requiring his specific expertise at the time, the redhead is currently signing in patients and answering questions up front, still dressed in his own typical workplace attire of a TARDIS blue polo shirt over khakis. Crowds this size make Arturo a bit edgy. Smaller groups and he can be aware of how he's perceived. Large groups tend to mind their own business. Medium groups, such as this one, are a tactical risk. Before he enters the clinic, he shifts his curly hair around to make sure the tips of his pointed, wolflike ears are covered. He also turns his collar up and tucks his short, ebony-clawed hands into his pockets. Then he takes his place in line behind the others. Micah is making relatively quick work of moving the line along, despite one walk-in coming up (for the fifth time) demanding a precise time that she will be taken back to see her doctor. She looks...half-mollified by the time she returns to her seat. As Arturo makes it to the front of the line, he slides the sign-in clipboard into easier reach. "Evenin', sir. D'you have an appointment?" "Um, no," he says. "I'm Doctor Arturo Ridley. I had a shift here yesterday. I think I left some files and a pair of gloves behind. I uh, also appear to have taken home someone else's tupperware and US Magazine." He holds up a reusable canvas grocery bag. He talks like he's trying to keep his lips from moving too much. "Oh!" Micah's cheeks brighten in a pale pink. "Apologies, we must not've met yet. I'm Micah. I volunteer here. Just...assume when folks is in line, it's for appointments. You can come right 'round back, y'know. The lines're just for checkin' in an' makin' appointments, really." He waves another volunteer returning from break to take over his seat, standing and moving to the door of the little fish-bowl 'office' to open it for the doctor. "Were your things in a bag, or just out on their own?" "In a bag that looks exactly like this one. Hence the mix-up. I hope I didn't inconvenience someone who really wanted to read their magazine." Arturo goes around back as he's motioned. "I didn't want to cause a fuss, and I'm not in any particular hurry. Besides, it does a doctor good to stand in line a bit. It reminds us of what our patients go through." "Yep, that'll do it. Let me check the Lost an' Found. Also known as...this corner of this table over here," Micah offers with a grin. "Don't imagine there's /too/ much about your average US Weekly that can't wait a day t'be read." He digs around a pile of hoodies and umbrellas and individual gloves, paperbacks and shopping bags and unmatched earrings, checking for a similar bag. After one false match containing someone's knitting, he comes up with what seems to be a good fit for Arturo's description. "We can just trade that one out for yours. S'this the one?" The canvas bag is extended on his fingertips for the doctor to inspect. Arturo sets the bag with the tupperware containers in down and then takes the other bag. He looks inside and checks the contents. "Yup. Looks like. Except...hm. I had a small folio wallet with business cards in it. It might have fallen out." "Hooray for small victories!" Micah's smile broadens when the bag turns out to be the right one, though his lips press together more firmly in thought at the missing wallet. "Hm, that might be a little more buried if it ended up in here. Just a sec..." He crouches down to check the spillover box tucked under the table with some of the smaller items in it, fishing about for a wallet. Again, he returns with two candidates, holding one out in each hand. "Either of these fit the bill?" He chuckles after a second. "No pun intended." "No, those aren't it. It's blue. Shit. I've been trying to get some steady clinic work and I met someone last week who gave me a name and a card." Arturo sighs and straightens up. He unconsciously runs a hand back through his hair which uncovers a bit of his ear. "Well. Goodness, that means we've got a number of folks runnin' 'round wallet-less," Micah observes with a small frown directed at the misplaced wallets. He returns them to the box before starting to rummage through it again. "S'always a chance I missed it on the first search-through. Be a shame to miss things completely. Though if y'remember the name or the place they work for, might be able t'look it up again online. Or dependin'...I might be able t'help. I know a fair number of the clinics hereabouts, an' practitioners, too. 'Least the ones as do orthopaedics or paediatrics." He might be /slightly/ muffled from facing into a box under a table as he talks. "I don't remember. Hey, don't worry too much about it. It's just business cards. And it probably wouldn't have worked out anyway. I've sort of burnt my bridges with most respectable places." Arturo slumps up against the wall and looks in the bag again to see if he can magically spot the missing wallet. "Mmn." Micah's brow furrows slightly as he returns to standing empty-handed. "I didn't catch anythin' on the second go-'round, neither. You're welcome t'take a poke through for yourself if y'want." His head tilts slightly, watching the other man dig through the bag. "No luck on it bein' hidin' under things in there, then?" A short chuff of breath answers the 'burnt bridges' comment. "I know enough folks who've gone through that, too, for sure. Don't give up on people or opportunities so easy, though. Can't get nowhere if y'don't keep puttin' yourself out there, right?" Arturo presses fingers against his forehead. "I suppose not. But I'm afraid the next time I put myself out there, I'm going to get a molotov cocktail between the eyes." He pushes off the wall. "Sorry, thanks for your help. I know you're busy. Sorry to the US Weekly person, too." "Yikes, that's a little severe." Micah's eyebrows loft in tandem, though he is shaking his head soon enough. "Though don't guess I should be surprised. Kinda security they had t'build in an' the amount of guard muscle they gotta keep on hand at one of the other clinics I work at. S'tough out there. Don't s'pose y'keep any of your own cards in a dif'rent place than that wallet? I could pass 'em 'round. Like I said, I'm in a good number of facilities. An' I get how much trouble it can be findin' your footing in a profession where people wanna know your name an' what it's associated with 'fore you've even rightly made one yet." His head dips in a slight nod at the thanks. "Least I could do. Hopefully the wallet turns up...either here or in a couch cushion at home or the like." "That's kind of you," says Arturo. He cants his head and exhales deeply. He rubs the back of his neck. "If you're going to do that, you should know the truth. I backed out on a couple of contracts. I bailed on a grant with no notice. I didn't like what they were going to do with my research. But I had no proof that they were up to anything. So it looks like I burned respectable companies and clinics." "S'just passin' cards along, no big deal," Micah replies with a shrug. "Gosh...that sounds like serious business. But if y'had ethical concerns regardin' what folks were doin', prob'ly s'better in the long run not t'associate yourself with it, yeah? I'm sure that's the kinda thing y'could discuss in an interview with whatever place. An' the ones as are more understandin' about it are the ones you'd rather be workin' for anyhow. Can't hurt t'share 'em if you've got 'em." "I suppose not. I've just got...trust issues." Arturo flicks a small smile. He's got strange teeth, which explains why he tries to talk without moving his lips much. "Anyway, don't mean to burden you. I'm sure there's plenty to do around here." He digs into his pocket and pulls out a few exceedingly plain business cards. They simply say 'Doctor Arturo Ridley, PhD" with a phone number and an email address. "Here." "Man, do I get that more than I wish I did." Micah's answering smile is warm and a little lopsided. He reaches into his pocket to withdraw a few cards of his own, offering them a little like a /trade/ for the ones he takes, as if this will make the other man less nervous. "Here, share an' share alike, right?" His cards are less plain, a deep blue background with white writing advertising 'Gorilla AT' over the name 'Micah Zedner, MSOP, CPO, ATP', a pair of phone numbers, a P.O. Box, and a business e-mail. "Nice t'meet you, Doc." Arturo isn't nervous so much as...defeated, and a bit downtrodden. He takes the card with a murdered thank-you. "And hey, good on you for volunteering. Lots of people wouldn't bother." Then, with one last check in his bag, the curly haired doc is heading for the door. "We're all doin' what we can, yeah?" Micah gives another shrug and a wave to the departing doctor. "I'll keep an eye out for the wallet when I'm here...let other folks know t'look, too. Have a good one." With that he moves to relieve a volunteer at the check-out window who is due to leave soon, sliding into conversation with the next person in line fluidly.