Uneasy Efficiency

We live, in theory, 5 minutes from the hospital. We timed the ride before we moved from one place to another, weighing whether the extra rent money would pay off in less travel time. However, the drive time is still plagued by the obstacles that the hospital presents. First, the parking, which recently has been made easier, with more spots available, but we are not sure what the change was and how long it will last. Then, the two out of four elevators working - I add to my workout by taking the stairs or avoiding the glares of hospital staff when I get on the service elevator. Then, the security desk on the fourth floor (after 9:00 pm there is also the security desk on the first floor) followed by a three minute scrub, the donning of the yellow robe and the polite wait at the door while someone buzzes me in. At this point, we are very recognizable and the security check and the buzzing-in move fairly efficiently. Overall, in order to make it in for Charlie’s 11:00 feeding, I need to be out of the door by 10:20. Recently, however, the security has been beefed up and now includes showing some ID and getting your picture printed on a sticker pass. This adds at least 5 more minutes, depending on the tech savvy of the security guard.
The other morning was great. I got a parking spot on the first floor and there was a visitor elevator ready and waiting for me. The desk guard efficiently printed out a pass without courteous conversation over my out of sate license which usually includes the naming of random towns the guard might be familiar with but has no geographical reference point of whatsoever. I smiled, slipped my pass into my bag, and quickly made my way towards the NICU. It was at this point that the extra hallway security guard (part of the new beefiness) called after me. “Miss, you know you have to wear that.” Even with all the efficiency that the morning had offered me, this call back was suddenly so annoying. I turned around and walked towards him as quickly as I had walked away-an unnatural speed to approach a stranger with unless they are choking or something. “Yes, I know,” I replied through what I think were clenched teeth. “But, you see, the pass gets wrinkled when I pull up my shirt to breast feed my babies in the NICU,” I said, demonstrating the runching of my top and leaning in to his face on the BR of “breast.” I wanted to continue with my rant, but he put up his hand and replied, “No no, go. That’s good. You got me.” His clear discomfort, rather than vindicating me, just made me feel bad, but clearly anything that stands between me and the babies breeds bad behavior on my part, which just breeds more bad behavior in others. Especially when later on, when I was leaving the NICU, I was stopped by another security guard about not wearing my pass in front of the original security guard. Instead of just giving a, “just let her pass,” to the new guy, and quietly noting "hostile" next to my name on the NICU baby sheet, my old buddy instead said, “Tell him why you are not wearing your pass.” Either he wanted to hear about my breasts again or he took pleasure in making others feel as uncomfortable as I made him. Jerk.