The normally calm, bookish woman's voice twisted itself into the tail of a tornado before an exasperated sigh of (i)Gawd(i) roped the last of the run for information.
"Would you say the experts are being hounded?" Someone gingerly covered a microphone. "It's not on," she lied. The woman pointed a pen at two guys in matching tee-shirts quoting a movie. "You two," eyes looked around for an EXIT, "Still in school?"
Elevator doors opened and doctors in scrubs exited as a group then split up for specific work.
"So you're saying it's the computer's fault?"
"What happened?"
"Anyone need a lawyer?" A hand held business cards like a rummy hand of playing cards.
"The whole program had been gutted."
"So?"
"So we put all the work online."
"Just out there for anyone to see?"
"Like anyone can bid on chopping down a five thousand pound tree?"
"Doesn't mean I'd pick just anyone!"
A person in scrubs and rubbery shoes wheeled a cart of what looked like art supplies close to the door of the wounded expert. "Casting," the med tech reported without the jokes usually attending his parallel take on everyday life.
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