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- Jul 9, 2003
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For years now when trapped in a waiting room I have taken the opportunity to write about what I see. Partly to pass the time and partly to practice my writing skills which are average at best!
Today I was in the waiting room of the dentist surgery and this is what I saw:-
In the dentist's office, a boy with curly hair sat with his mum, fidgeting. Dad came out of the office. Although practically bald, he had a distinct resemblance to the curly-haired boy.
Dad finished talking to the receptionist, having completed his complicated booking of the next appointments.
"Come on, kids," he said, addressing the two teenagers, one of whom I had assumed to be the mum of the fidgeting boy.
Now it made sense—the lack of discipline the assumed mum had—the sister of a right pain in the proverbial.
The dad was the same stamp as his son, or rather, the son was the stamp of his dad.
The fidgeting boy, the impatient father—twins in their inheritance.
I could tell the father would be persistent at his job. He would push and progress his work and his team to the point of annoying them with his insistence.
I could see it in his son. It was being broadcast by the fidgeting, the impatience, the boredom, the need to be doing, the need to be involved. I could see it in the boy—a boy who was obviously trapped in the restrictive, methodical education system, which practically destroys these types of people.
This annoying fidgeting boy now commanded my respect. I could see in the father the sort of man the boy would become. I felt respect for both of them because the father had obviously mastered his fidgeting boredom with life and school and turned it into an excellent attribute for a person to have.
I just hoped he could see it in his son and point his son in the right direction.
I fed my observations in to the Chat GPT writing coach and this is what it did.
**Story:**
In the sterile, white waiting room of the dentist's office, a boy with curly hair sat beside his older sister. His fingers drummed an incessant rhythm on the arm of the chair, his legs bouncing in a dance of restless energy. The room buzzed with the low hum of muted conversation and the occasional rustle of magazine pages being turned.
The door to the inner office swung open, and a man emerged. His head was almost entirely bald, yet the resemblance to the curly-haired boy was unmistakable. This was the father, finishing up a convoluted conversation with the receptionist about future appointments.
"Come on, kids," he called out, his voice a blend of authority and weariness. The two teenagers rose, the girl rolling her eyes with the practiced disdain of older siblings everywhere. She had been mistaken for the boy's mother, a mix-up now clarified in the light of their interaction.
Observing from across the room, I marveled at the dynamics of this small family. The father's impatience mirrored in the boy's restless movements. They were twins in temperament if not in appearance. The father, no doubt, was relentless in his professional life, driving his team forward with a persistence that likely bordered on irritation.
This trait was evident in his son. The boy's fidgeting was a broadcast signal of his inner turmoil—impatience, boredom, and a burning need to be involved in something, anything. It was easy to see how the rigid structure of the educational system could stifle a spirit like his, crushing the very qualities that, if guided properly, could become his greatest strengths.
As I watched, my annoyance with the boy's incessant movement transformed into respect. His fidgeting was not mere restlessness; it was a sign of an active mind chafing against the confines of his current environment. I saw in his father the man the boy might one day become—a man who had harnessed his own restless energy and turned it into a powerful drive.
I could only hope that the father saw the same potential in his son. With the right guidance, the boy could channel his impatience and energy into achievements that matched his father's. In that moment, I felt a deep respect for them both—the father who had conquered his own nature and the boy who still had the journey ahead of him.
As they left the waiting room, the boy's fidgeting seemed less a nuisance and more a promise of future success. I silently wished them both well, hoping that the father would indeed point his son in the right direction.
Chat GPT taking my observations and turning it into a well-crafted story.
I hope to emulate chat GPT at some stage in the future, but don't hold your breath!
Today I was in the waiting room of the dentist surgery and this is what I saw:-
In the dentist's office, a boy with curly hair sat with his mum, fidgeting. Dad came out of the office. Although practically bald, he had a distinct resemblance to the curly-haired boy.
Dad finished talking to the receptionist, having completed his complicated booking of the next appointments.
"Come on, kids," he said, addressing the two teenagers, one of whom I had assumed to be the mum of the fidgeting boy.
Now it made sense—the lack of discipline the assumed mum had—the sister of a right pain in the proverbial.
The dad was the same stamp as his son, or rather, the son was the stamp of his dad.
The fidgeting boy, the impatient father—twins in their inheritance.
I could tell the father would be persistent at his job. He would push and progress his work and his team to the point of annoying them with his insistence.
I could see it in his son. It was being broadcast by the fidgeting, the impatience, the boredom, the need to be doing, the need to be involved. I could see it in the boy—a boy who was obviously trapped in the restrictive, methodical education system, which practically destroys these types of people.
This annoying fidgeting boy now commanded my respect. I could see in the father the sort of man the boy would become. I felt respect for both of them because the father had obviously mastered his fidgeting boredom with life and school and turned it into an excellent attribute for a person to have.
I just hoped he could see it in his son and point his son in the right direction.
I fed my observations in to the Chat GPT writing coach and this is what it did.
**Story:**
In the sterile, white waiting room of the dentist's office, a boy with curly hair sat beside his older sister. His fingers drummed an incessant rhythm on the arm of the chair, his legs bouncing in a dance of restless energy. The room buzzed with the low hum of muted conversation and the occasional rustle of magazine pages being turned.
The door to the inner office swung open, and a man emerged. His head was almost entirely bald, yet the resemblance to the curly-haired boy was unmistakable. This was the father, finishing up a convoluted conversation with the receptionist about future appointments.
"Come on, kids," he called out, his voice a blend of authority and weariness. The two teenagers rose, the girl rolling her eyes with the practiced disdain of older siblings everywhere. She had been mistaken for the boy's mother, a mix-up now clarified in the light of their interaction.
Observing from across the room, I marveled at the dynamics of this small family. The father's impatience mirrored in the boy's restless movements. They were twins in temperament if not in appearance. The father, no doubt, was relentless in his professional life, driving his team forward with a persistence that likely bordered on irritation.
This trait was evident in his son. The boy's fidgeting was a broadcast signal of his inner turmoil—impatience, boredom, and a burning need to be involved in something, anything. It was easy to see how the rigid structure of the educational system could stifle a spirit like his, crushing the very qualities that, if guided properly, could become his greatest strengths.
As I watched, my annoyance with the boy's incessant movement transformed into respect. His fidgeting was not mere restlessness; it was a sign of an active mind chafing against the confines of his current environment. I saw in his father the man the boy might one day become—a man who had harnessed his own restless energy and turned it into a powerful drive.
I could only hope that the father saw the same potential in his son. With the right guidance, the boy could channel his impatience and energy into achievements that matched his father's. In that moment, I felt a deep respect for them both—the father who had conquered his own nature and the boy who still had the journey ahead of him.
As they left the waiting room, the boy's fidgeting seemed less a nuisance and more a promise of future success. I silently wished them both well, hoping that the father would indeed point his son in the right direction.
Chat GPT taking my observations and turning it into a well-crafted story.
I hope to emulate chat GPT at some stage in the future, but don't hold your breath!
