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    Category: Health & Body

    Stupid customers in stories are bad enough. However, dealing with a customer’s health issues may be hazardous to your own health! Please consult your doctor before continuing.

    Won’t Listen Until You’re Code Blue In The Face

    | KS, USA | Health & Body

    (We’ve been extremely busy in the small ER where I work. We’re completely full with people in the waiting room when an ambulance brings in a Code Blue—someone not breathing. The x-ray tech and I are standing in the nurse’s station awaiting instructions, when a patient’s relative comes up.)

    Relative: “What’s going on? Why hasn’t the doctor come in to see my son? We’ve been waiting over an hour!”

    Me: “Well, ma’am, we have a Code Blue critical patient in and the doctor is busy.”

    Relative: “Too busy to check on his patients? This is ridiculous! We haven’t even seen a nurse in 20 d*** minutes!”

    Me: “Well, ma’am, like I said, everyone’s busy with the Code Blue and nobody is free at the moment.”

    Relative: “This unacceptable! My son is in pain back there, and you don’t give a s***!”

    (At this point, the nursing supervisor and the relative of a different patient walks up.)

    Supervisor: “Ma’am? Can I help you?”

    Relative: “My son is back there in pain and these two aren’t doing a thing about it! Just standing around! And the doctor hasn’t even been in to see him!”

    Supervisor: “Well, ma’am, as these young ladies have told you multiple times, we have Code Blue that needs our attention right now.”

    Relative: “What the f*** does that even mean?”

    Another Patient’s Relative: “It means that someone is DYING, you idiot. Your son’s headache can wait a few minutes!”

    (The first relative looked absolutely ashamed of herself and quickly retreated. The other patient’s relative later went on to buy some candy for all our staff as a thank you for working so hard.)

    This Story Just Drugs On And On And On

    | TX, USA | Health & Body

    (I work at a pharmacy, both as a tech and at the till when necessary. It is a Sunday, so the pharmacy is not heavily staffed. The sole customer waiting is a man, late 20s to early 30s, wearing a pink button-up shirt.)

    Me: “Hello, sir. How can I help you?”

    Pink Guy: “Six for [Name].”

    (I search the current container and find five prescriptions. It’s not uncommon for a prescription to be put in adjacent containers if the proper one is too full, which this one likely was. I search the other containers but don’t find anything.)

    Me: “One sec, I have to check the computer.”

    (I check the computer. I do verify he has six prescriptions to pick up.)

    Me: “Sorry about that. Can I verify the date of birth, please?”

    Pink Guy: “What is this? You want my date of birth now?”

    Me: “Yes sir, to verify the prescription.”

    Pink Guy: “You guys never asked for that before.”

    (I am roughly two years’ tenure in the pharmacy, and that has been a part of policy since day one.)

    Me: “If I could just verify the date of birth to make sure there isn’t another person with the same name?”

    Pink Guy: “It’s not very likely you’d have two people with the same exact name. I suppose you want me to verify my social security number in case someone has both my name and my birthday?”

    (We actually do have two people with the same name and birthday.)

    Me: “Not necessarily. I would go by address or phone number first.”

    Pink Guy: “I’m not comfortable giving you my date of birth.”

    Me: “I already have a date of birth here. I just need you to verify at least the month and the day.”

    Pink Guy: *crossing his arms* “Fine. But just know that you’ve never asked me for this before and I’ve been coming here for years. It’s [birthday].”

    Me: “Thank you, sir.” *check each of the prescriptions* “Okay. And I have all six prescriptions.”

    Pink Guy: “Six?”

    Me: “Yes, sir, six prescriptions.”

    Pink Guy: “Not seven?”

    Me: “Was there more?”

    Pink Guy: “There should be one more.”

    Me: “Okay, let me check the computer.”

    (I go back to the computer, and re-enter him just to refresh the data. I verify each prescription that I have and make sure he doesn’t have another one that he usually refilled; none pop out.)

    Me: “I only have six prescriptions for you, sir.”

    Pink Guy: *with an inflection implying I’m a moron* “And there aren’t any for my wife?”

    Me: “Oh, I see. It’s under another name.” *without asking him, I query by address, and find his wife. I see that she does have a pending prescription, but there’s a catch* “Did you call it in today?”

    Pink Guy: “Yeah, I called it in this morning. It said it’d be ready tomorrow but I figured you guys would have it ready by now.”

    Me: *explaining casually* “Well, not exactly. You see, when you call it in it actually gets picked up by an outside pharmacy and they fill it and ship it to us next-day. You did it through the automated system, right?”

    Pink Guy: “Well, yeah. I’ve done it before and you guys had it ready.”

    Me: “Well… I’m not sure about that time, but I do know the automated system tells you when the pickup is and then asks if you want it earlier; if you select that you want it earlier it sends it to us. Maybe that just didn’t go through this time.”

    Pink Guy: “No, I just assumed you’d have it ready by now.”

    (Well, at least he’s honest.)

    Me: “Well, I’m sorry but we don’t. But I can pull it and we can fill it here. The pharmacist is out to lunch, but when he gets back in about ten minutes he’ll fill it right away. Do you have some shopping you could do or would you like to wait in the waiting area?”

    (The pharmacist is behind the counter, but I’m not going to bother him unless I absolutely have to.)

    Pink Guy: “No! I don’t have time for all of this crap! If you guys aren’t ready I’ll just waste my time and gas and get it tomorrow! I’m in a hurry!”

    Me: “I’m sorry about that, sir.”

    (I start scanning and bagging the prescriptions. He reaches across the counter at me to tear the bag away from me.)

    Me: “Excuse me, just a sec, sir. I need you to verify the information on the screen.”

    Pink Guy: “I thought you already verified everything. That’s why I gave you my date of birth!”

    Me: “I need you to verify everything on the screen. Make sure all of the information is correct and hit ‘next’ in the lower-right of the screen.”

    (Without looking at the screen, he hits the ‘back’ button at the lower-left.)

    Me: *re-initializing the verification phase* “It’s the ‘next’ button on the lower-right, sir.”

    (Second time’s the charm. He still doesn’t look at the screen.)

    Me: “And if you could sign to verify you’ve picked up the prescriptions.”

    Pink Guy: *mutters a signing-my-life-away cliche* “There. Are we done?” *extends his hand, expectantly*

    Me: “Not quite. Your total comes to $20.”

    Pink Guy: “Are you kidding me!? You make me go through all that and then you expect me to fork over $20? I have insurance! It covers everything! You must not have run it through, you idiots. Go check your little computer and you’ll see. I have never had to pay anything for my meds!”

    (I go to the computer and refresh his information.)

    Me: “It shows here we ran it through [Insurance]. They paid [amount] toward the prescription, leaving you with a co-pay of $20. The last time you got it, on [date], they paid [amount minus $20] and therefore you had a $40 co-pay. And you’ve had a $40 co-pay the last 3 times you picked this medication up.”

    Pink Guy: “This is ridiculous! Whatever.” *pulls out his checkbook* “Can I get $100 cash-back?”

    Me: “No, sir, the limit is $50. And, I’m sorry, but I don’t have enough in my till.”

    Pink Guy: “Well… can’t you get more?”

    Me: “I could, but it’d be faster for you if you just got a bottle of water and get cash-back up at the front.”

    Pink Guy: *standing up defiantly* “I’m not making two transactions. I’ll wait.”

    Me: “Okay. Your total is $70, and the date is [date].”

    Pink Guy: “You said it was $20 before!”

    Me: “Right. $20, plus $50 cash-back is $70.”

    (He proceeds to write his check.)

    Pink Guy: “Can I have my cash-back?”

    Me: “I need to run the check first.”

    (With a great show of impatience and contempt he tears the check out and hands it to me. It’s policy to verify the check by hand before running it through the feeder. Before even turning it my direction, I see he hasn’t signed it.)

    Me: “Could you please sign the check?”

    (He clicks his pen and makes a very dramatic and flourish display of signing the check.)

    Me: “Thank you.” *I start to validate the check, the date is wrong by a few days* “I’m going to change it to today’s date and initial it, okay?”

    Pink Guy: “Fine, whatever.”

    (I check everything, saving the amount for last since I know it’s cash-back and I want to verify they match properly. But… there’s a problem.

    Me: “Sir, I’m afraid I’ll need you to write a new check.”

    Pink Guy: “What the he-why!?”

    Me: “Because. You wrote the amount for $120, but the limit for cash-back is $50, and that’s how much I asked for.”

    Pink Guy: “Well here!” *takes the check from me, scribbles all over it, and writes the new amounts in as tiny as he can above the errata* “There. You need my driver’s license?”

    Me: “No, sir, I need you to write a new check. This one is illegible and I can’t accept it into my till.”

    Pink Guy: “Screw you! Fine, forget the cash-back. I’ll just pay with my card.”

    (He pulls the card out, and swipes it. But it’s too fast, I have to hit a button first.)

    Me: “Okay, your card is ready to swipe.”

    Pink Guy: “I already swiped it.”

    Me: “I wasn’t ready in time, sorry. I have to hit a button for it to take. It’s ready now, though.”

    Pink Guy: “The machine said it was ready!”

    Me: “That’s the default screen. It always says that. I know it’s irritating. I wish they’d change it.”

    (He swipes his card again, and poises with his pen. I expect him to start with the card transaction, but notice he’s still standing there after a second.)

    Pink Guy: “Well?”

    (I look at my screen, and realize it hasn’t taken the card still. I clear it and prime it again.)

    Me: “Try it again, please?”

    Pink Guy: “No! You’ll charge me twice!”

    Me: “It won’t charge you twice. I promise. It only charges when you approve the amount and sign.”

    Pink Guy: “If it charges me twice I’ll get you fired.”

    Me: “I promise. It won’t charge you twice.”

    (He poises with the card and practically stares me down as if judging the worth of my soul as he slides the card through. It’s then I notice the magnet strip is in his fingers.)

    Me: “May I see your card, sir?”

    Pink Guy: *apparently giving up, he responds less angrily than I expected* “Take it.”

    (I take the card and swipe it through the correct way, setting it on the counter. Once again he poises with the pen, waiting for the prompt, and again, I notice it’s taking him a tad longer than other people. I look at the screen just as he comments.)

    Pink Guy: “It’s still not doing anything.”

    (I pick up his card, and take in a breath. It’s a ditch effort, but I enter the card number manually. No dice. I hand his card back.)

    Me: “I’m sorry sir, your card won’t go through. Do you have another method of payment?” (It has been rejected.)

    Pink Guy: “What the h***!” *literally throws the card at me, hitting my chest, and I catch it* “That’s a new f****** card! Of course it’ll take! Your computer is stupid!”

    Me: “I’m sorry, sir.”

    (He leaves, and I continue the day setting any emotions aside to deal with for later. I put his credit card in with one of the scripts and make a note of it for whoever has to handle it. Later that week, the pharmacist, who had been sitting behind the counter that whole time, talks to me during a slow hour.)

    Pharmacist: “Hey, [My Name], you remember Mr. [Pink Guy] from the other day?”

    Me: “Yeah, what about him?”

    Pharmacist: “His wife came by the next day. I did the transaction. She picked up all seven scripts. She didn’t say anything about the price. Paid with a perfect check, and got the $50 cash-back.”

    Me: “So, she didn’t give you any trouble?”

    Pharmacist: “No, not at all.”

    Me: “Well, good. At least that whole thing happened on a slow day.”

    Pharmacist: “Yeah. Anyway, here.” *takes a Barnes & Noble gift card from his smock pocket and sets it on the counter* “Consider this an apology from Mr. [Pink Guy].”

    (The gift card was for $75.)

    Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 2

    | Henderson, SC, USA | Awesome Customers, Extra Stupid, Food & Drink, Health & Body, Top

    (I am out to breakfast with some friends from work.)

    Me: “Excuse me, do you know if the cook uses milk to make the omelets or just eggs?”

    Waitress: “Just eggs. Are you allergic to milk?”

    Me: “No, but I am lactose intolerant and I forgot to bring my meds.”

    (We all order our food. However, after the waitress leaves, I overhear someone from the table next to us asking for a manager.)

    Another Customer: *loudly* “I want to complain about that waitress. I heard her interrogating that poor woman about her personal medical issues! I’m a doctor and I know you can’t just ask people about things like that! It’s against the law! She could sue you!”

    Me: *to the other customer* “Excuse me, before things get out of hand here, I’m the person she’s talking about. First of all, our waitress asked if I had an allergy to milk. It was a good question considering I made a point of asking if some of your foods have milk in it. If I was really allergic, the kitchen would have to take extra precautions to avoid anaphylaxis. Secondly, there’s no such law that I know of unless you’re talking about the laws in place to protect your private health information from being accessed by other people without your permission. I don’t see how those would apply in this case.”

    Another Customer: “What the h*** are you talking about? What are you, some kind of lawyer, smarta**?”

    My Friend: “No, ‘doctor,’ she’s some kind of nurse.”

    (We all pulled out our hospital IDs. The “doctor” shut up after that. The manager thanked us for clearing things up and left, and our waitress gave us a free round of cheesecake with a free lactose-free muffin for me!)

    Related:
    Why Nurses Should Rule The World

    When Tank Top Complaints Tank

    | MA, USA | Bigotry, Health & Body, Religion, Rude & Risque

    (I’m working third shift at a hotel and it’s my job to get most of the cleaning done. It gets rather hot so I often take off my thick work shirt and clean in just a tank top. Unbeknownst to me, our hotel is filled with a very conservative religious group of people. Two boys come to the desk while I’m wiping some things down. I’m very chesty and the tank top is slightly low cut showing off some cleavage.)

    Boy: “Hello?”

    Me: “Hey there. What can I do for you?”

    (As I turn around, I notice two boys staring at me wide eyed and slack-jawed. They are probably no older than 13 and are dressed in very traditional garb. I quickly realize my faux pas and toss on my jacket. I get everything set and they go on their way. About half an hour later, I’m back in my tank top cleaning when an irate woman storms down and starts yelling.)

    Woman: “Listen here, you little hussy! My boys are pure and sinless unlike you, you heathenish w****! How dare you dress like that and expose yourself to my boys like that! Have you no decency! Who let you out of the house like that?! I bet your husband doesn’t even know where you are! Did he let you get this job or did you sneak behind his back like the harlot you are?!”

    Me: “Actually, ma’am, I’m a lesbian and don’t ever intend to let anyone tell me how to dress or what I can and can’t do. You have no right to be here yelling at me. You came to this society; I didn’t go to yours. Therefore, you can’t expect me to bend my way of living just because you are around. I realized I was over exposed and put on a jacket but it is hot in here and I’ve got a lot of work to do and would sweat to death if I kept it on. Now, if you would please be as so kind as to let me finish working.”

    Woman: “You’re the devil’s spawn!” *storms away*

    (In the morning, a man creeps up to the desk looking rather embarrassed. I put on my jacket again, fully expecting him to lay into me as well.)

    Man: “I want to apologize for my wife last night. We understand that you aren’t a member of our religion and that you don’t have to conform to our rules. Thank you for covering up after realizing we are modest people. I am truly sorry for the way she spoke to you, and although it doesn’t excuse her insolence, I hope this helps.”

    (He hands me a fifty dollar bill, and begins to walk away.)

    Me: “Sir, you really don’t have to give me this. She was just trying to protect her children and although it was a personal attack, she was just doing what she felt necessary.”

    (He waved a hand dismissing me, and left. When they checked out, he gave me nothing but good reviews and left me another fifty to make up for his wife’s behavior. The boys left me thank you cards that I got my next shift, and a few weeks later I got a letter from the wife apologizing for the way she acted and what she said to me!)

    Gonna Bay For It Now

    | Nashville, TN, USA | Health & Body, Pets & Animals, Top

    (I work as a receptionist for a vet clinic. When people are thinking about adding an animal to their life, we always recommend they do a lot of research into the breed, so they can choose the pet that’s best for them, both for their sakes and the pets. One morning, a woman calls in, frantic.)

    Client: “I have to see a vet as soon as possible. I think there’s something horribly wrong with my beagle puppy!”

    Me: “Okay, ma’am, I’m pencilling you in. Can I ask, what are his symptoms?”

    Client: “I’m not sure exactly, but he’s running around the house making this horrible sound, like he’s in pain. I don’t know what to do!”

    Me: “Alright, well just take a deep breath. Can you get a good look at him? Does he have any injuries, or any other symptoms? Is he vomiting?”

    Client: “No, he’s just making this awful sound! I think he’s-” *she’s interrupted by the ‘horrible’ sound* “There! That’s what he’s been doing all morning!”

    Me: “Um, ma’am, how old is your beagle?”

    Client: “Six months, why?”

    Me: “Ah. Well, it sounds to me like he’s baying.”

    Client: “What’s that? Is it serious?”

    Me: “No, ma’am. Baying is a distinctive type of howl that hunting dogs make. When hunting breeds reach a certain age, their voice drops, the same way a human’s does, and they begin to bay when they’re excited. It sounds like your puppy just found his bay.”

    Client: “But he’s not a hunting dog! I don’t even hunt!”

    Me: “Beagles are a hunting breed, ma’am. They have been used to hunt for centuries. Baying is instinctive.”

    Client: “Well, make him stop!”

    Me: “I… what?”

    Client: “Make him stop making that noise, it’s terrible!”

    Me: “Ma’am, I can’t… make him stop. He’s doing what he’s bred to do. It sounds like he’s just excited with the new noise he can make and he’s showing it off. He’ll probably use it less once the newness has worn off.”

    Client: “Less?”

    Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

    Client: “But…” *pause* “He’s going to do this forever?”

    Me: “Welcome to owning a beagle, ma’am.”

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