The Man at the Front Desk

The man at the front desk had been waiting. He was due to have an appointment arrive to meet with him. The guest was late and the man was becoming impatient. He wandered, he dawdled, he waited, yet he knew with perfect faith, his guest would arrive... eventually. The clock ticked ominously on the wall. At first glance, it was normal, but closer inspection revealed differently. The hands ticked as a clock does, but instead of an arrow at the end pointing to the number, it was a face, and instead of numbers along the edge, it was a location. One such hand, was moving slowly towards the hotel where the man at the front desk was waiting. He watched the hand move slowly, slowly, almost never reaching the hotel.
The man at the front desk was anxious. Nervous... and excited. He had longed for this guest to arrive... they had spoken a few rare times on the phone, communicated, albeit in brief sporadic times. They had what would be considered a friendly relationship, but the man at the front desk wanted to know this guest personally, and talk with him for long hours... He desired to have a close relationship with the guest... to be friends on the deepest level.
The hand moved... ticking closer toward the hotel... it was almost time.
Suddenly, there was ding at the front desk. The man whirled around. There was a different guest waiting to be attended to. This one had problems galore. She ranted and raved, talked on and on, finally, succumbing to tears. The man at the front desk cared for her, brought her to a safe room and promised her she would be ok. Then he went back to the clock. He stared... until he realized... the hand wasn't coming closer to the hotel. In fact, it was turning away. The man at the front desk, with a single tear in his eye, sighed loudly. His guest was due to check in.... but decided to take a detour to the hotel... he would arrive... eventually.... until then... the man at the front desk would wait...