Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

Short, little post. The Fahrenheits are piling up outside, like benign snow drifts in the hated Winter.

In any event.

Who said, ‘Yeah I’ve read enough old Doctrine posts to mutter, ‘rogers‘ as I drive around a gaggle of serious bicyclists filling the roadway as they flash corporate-logoed spandex and genuinely-silly little round mirrors strapped to their heads. And scotts? Anyone can spot those Tasmanian devils. They the ones with the gallon-sized can of Kingsford charcoal lighter fluid.

Everyone with a secondary clarklike aspect and a sense of fun that using this Doctrine thing out in the world requires.

This Post is about clarks. And the fun of knowing the Wakefield Doctrine

So we dropped our car off at the dealer for routine maintenance. The drop-off (and pick up) is, basically a two lane space inside the building. Pretty standard procedure:  big-assed auto-rollup door opens as you approach, pull forward, turn off car and a tech opens your door asking you leave the keys in the car. Along the left side of this large space, a row of chest-high stations behind each of which is a service manager. Six stations, four service people this morning, all rogers… except for one.

At the last in the row of service manager stations (or first in the row, if you’re coming in from the showroom) sat a young woman. Probably twenties. Brown hair, disorderly ponytail, semi-wire rimmed glasses, minimal makeup (at least as far as this Y Chromian could tell). As we stood waiting for my rogerian service manager, (Brandon, ikr?), we glanced to our left (at that last station.)

We were struck. Possessed by the following thoughts: ‘clarklike female’ (and) ‘A quiet stillness that is almost palpable’.

Had Paul of Tarsus been dropping off his Q7 at that moment he would totally have said, “Pretty blinding insight, am I right?”

Mind you, this is in an automotive service center. Kinda lots of different noises, i.e. my guy Brandon, a couple others on the phone, the entrance door rolling up and down and yet her… quietude simply encased the area around her.

damn!

Ain’t this Wakefield Doctrine fun!