I was checking in to the doctor’s office for an 11:00 appointment. In front of me was an elderly man.

He gave his name and receptionist consulted her computer. “You’re too early,” she snapped. “Your appointment isn’t until 1:00. You’ll have to come back!”

He was clearly embarrassed. “I can’t come back,” he said softly so no one would overhear. “I have to take the senior shuttle. It runs on a schedule.”

“Well, then, you’ll have to take a seat then, won’t you?” she snapped. She slapped a clipboard on the counter. “You can fill these out while you wait.”

I could feel this man shrink. “I can’t see those,” he said. “I’m legally blind. Do you have someone who could help me?”

“No,” answered the receptionist, “We don’t. And I can’t help you. I’m very busy.” She turned her chair to me. “Name?”

As I was checking in, I saw a young woman, probably a college student, look up from her magazine. She looked angrily over at the front desk. The old man sat down heavily. It was going to be a long wait with no TV and no ability to read one of the decrepit magazines.

I checked in and the “very busy” secretary proceeded to stare into space waiting for the next patient to show up.

The young woman across from us got up, took the clipboard off the counter, and sat down next to the old man.

“It’s terrible about the mix-up with your appointment,” she said. “Do you mind if I sit here and help you fill out this paperwork? I’d hate for you to wait this long and then have to wait for it to be filled out inside.” His face lit up. “You would do that for me?” he said. Yes, she would.

And so, she sat there, filling out form after form. I thought the receptionist was going to explode for being shown up by this other woman. Smoke was coming out of her ears as she watched.

He didn’t want to give her his history, but when she realized that, she said the doctor would probably want to do that himself. “That’s only one page,” she said. “That won’t take long.” And she did every form in the pile, chatting the man up as she went.

Just as she finished, the door opened and a nurse called out a name. “That’s me,” she said. She turned to the front desk. “Would you like these, or do they stay with him?” “I’ll take them,” she snarled.

Seriously, there was not a person in the waiting room that wasn’t moved. When she came out later, yes, we were both still waiting. That old man’s face lit up again when he saw her leaving. He thanked her warmly. “Thanks for helping me not die of boredom!” she chirped as she left.

Something so simple, yet so important, and so obvious and kind, and yet only one of the people there thought of it.