Setting: The “Bar Bistro,” an area in which patrons can purchase food and alcohol to enjoy in a just-renovated movie theatre in San Francisco. The decor could be described as “minimalist,” or “pretentious.” Janna and her Moviegoing Companion join the crowd as three harried employees try to serve a bar overflowing with people.

Moviegoing Companion: I’ll have a glass of the Such and Such.
Bar Employee: Um, is that a red wine?
MC: Yes.
BE: Yeah, I don’t think we have any more of that. (Examines stock.) Nope, sorry. We have Wine X Not On Menu or Wine Y Not On Menu left.
MC: I’ll take the Wine X, then.

Bar Employee searches for a corkscrew for several minutes, then gouges a hole in the cork, rendering the bottle undrinkable.

MC: Could I put in an order for a cheese plate while you’re working on that?
BE: You’ll have to ask the waiter if you want food.
Janna: I’ll take care of it.

Janna approaches the waiter, who is taking an order from a group of five clearly tipsy moviegoers. She politely stands aside.

Tipsy Woman: Yeah, I’ll have a Beer X.
Waiter: Um, I’m not sure we have any left. Let me check. (Rushes to the bar, then back.) Ok, yeah, we’ve got a couple.
Tipsy Woman 2: I’ll have the Wine Z.
W: I’ll have to check on that. (Rushes to the bar, then back.) No, we’re out. We have Wine X Not On Menu or Wine Y Not On Menu.
TW 2: Ok, then Wine X.
Tipsy Woman 3: Me too! Two glasses of Wine X.
Tipsy Guy: I’ll have a Beer Y.
W: Let me see what we’ve got. (Rushes to the bar, then back.) We’ve got about half a dozen, so you’re good.
Tipsy Woman 4: I’ll have one, too. Actually, I’ll have two. (Deliberately; slurring her words.) No. I’ll have … five.
W: Yeah. Um, OK.

Janna: (To waiter.) When you have a chance, could I order the cheese plate?
W: Yes, of course. Thank you so much for being so patient, I really appreciate it!
J: No problem. How long do you think it will take?
W: (Confidently.) Four minutes.
J: Fantastic, the movie starts in five.

MC rejoins J, hard-won glass of wine in hand. Several minutes go by. The cheese plate does not arrive. The Tipsy Moviegoers walk by.

Tipsy Woman 4: OMG I swear to God seriously guys, Britney is pregnant. She’s like staying with her little sister in like Louisiana and like I swear to God it’s true. (Stares intently at Tipsy Woman 2.) I mean, seriously. (Stares intently at Janna.) Like, really. It’s true.
J: (Thinks to herself.) Please don’t spill any of your 47 units of alcohol on me.
MC: (Aside, to Janna.) I think this is a place for San Francisco people who are really from LA.

Ten minutes later.

Waiter: (Hands over the cheese plate, which is better described as a “cheese cardboard box.”) Thank you so much for waiting. I’m really, really sorry it took so long.
J and MC: No problem! Thanks!

J and MC dash into the movie, which started fifteen minutes earlier. The lost time equals $2 per person at this theatre, which charges $10.50 plus a mysterious $1.50 “convenience fee” for each ticket.

Narrator: The upside? The employees were friendly and had excellent intentions, and the last five-sixths of the movie were great. However, good service and a film that can be seen elsewhere do not justify high-priced chaos. Get your indie flicks here instead.

As I’ve recently switched jobs, I’m currently in the process of figuring out my healthcare situation. I found myself in need of a flu shot, so, sans regular doctor, I headed over to the Public Health Department. Upon registering, I noticed a prominent sign asking for a donation in addition to the price of the visit. The rationale is that the charge is not enough to cover the cost of services. I ran through my standard donation checklist:

1) Is it a good cause?
2) Am I gainfully employed?
3) Am I part of a captive audience?

After determining that I had a 100% yes verdict, I agreed to donate the suggested 15% of my total bill. The receptionist took out an abacus calculator, and pronounced my contribution $4.20. I blinked, ascertained that this was correct, and told her to round it up to $10.

I know that every little bit counts, but honestly? What kind of country are we living in if the local government-run healthcare provider must ask for donations that roughly compare to the cost of a Big Mac? Are they supplementing these donations by panhandling? Selling discarded stuff on eBay? Peddling Mary Kay products on slow days?

Why is the public health department just scraping by? Why is an agency that serves mostly low income clients forced to resort to a donation system? Why am I so often reminded of how “lucky” I am to have health insurance? Call me crazy, but it seems to me that we shouldn’t require people to pay for health care in the first place. If we can’t manage this, is it really a better system to knock off a few bucks and guilt people into paying the rest? Sure, it’s possible to refuse. However, many people are not comfortable accepting what appears to be charity. A sign announcing that the cost of a visit won’t allow the agency to break even, and insinuating that this is at least theoretically the client’s problem, falls into that category.

I’m not suggesting that public health increase prices to cover the real cost of services, and I know this is the only way to get rid of the donation sign. My point is simply that there’s something wrong with a system that requires the sign in the first place. Healthcare is almost universally recognized as a human right, not a luxury requiring charitable contributions from poor people. Yeah — almost.