(I am a veterinary technician and sometimes I leave work still wearing scrubs.)

Cashier: “So, you work at the dental office in this plaza, right?”

Me: “Nope, I’m a veterinary technician. I work at the vet clinic over there.” *gesturing*

Other Customer: “What’s that?”

Me: “I’m a nurse for animals.”

Other Customer: “Oh. There’s this mouth-wash I’ve been meaning to try. The stuff from [Human Brand]. Can you tell me if it’s any good?”

Me: “Um… I’m a veterinary technician. I nurse animals.”

Other Customer: “It’s all the same. So, can you tell me if the mouthwash is any good?”

(I recently started working as a veterinarian at a clinic. We have one client who has become infamous for not giving his dog the sedative medications we recommended to help keep him comfortable during his visits. His anxiety at the office is so bad, we requested two different medications be used together, though often neither are given. As a result, whenever we have to do anything with the dog, we require the owner to place a muzzle on him, and our technicians have to wrestle with the dog while he is crying out in fear. We expect the client may get some kind of thrill watching these exchanges. The owner and dog are here for their recheck appointment with me, after choosing to try over the counter medications to try to deal with his dog’s problem. It is only me, the owner, and the dog for the exchange.)

Owner: “I think the skin is doing much better! Before, I couldn’t run my hands down his back, but now I can without a problem.”

Me: “That’s great. Is it true he’s still itching?”

Owner: “Yeah, but the scabs have gone away, except for one like this one on his side.”

(He show me one small scab. When I try to touch it, the dog barks and jerks in fear. The owner smirks a bit.)

Me: “Well, that’s good that the scabs have healed, but we’re still left with what to do about the itching. Our options are—”

Owner: *interrupting* “I know, I know, but look how much better it is! Isn’t the belly so much better?” *picks up terrified dog to show me his abdomen, freaking the dog out further*

Me: “It may be, but I can’t touch your dog to see how the skin is really doing.”

(This seems to really annoy the client.)

Owner: “Yeah, you can! I’ll just hold him really tight!”

Me: “But your dog is terrified, and that is not the type of relationship I want with your dog. That is why we want him to be on those medications when he comes in. That way, he can be more comfortable, and I can reward him with treats when he behaves well.”

Owner: “No, really it’s fine!” *hook his arms around the dog to hold him, further scaring the dog* “Here! Doesn’t the belly look so much better?” *lifts the dog again*

Me: “Yes, the belly looks better from what I can see, but I can’t touch him. I’m not going to foster that kind of relationship with your dog. We have two options. Either I can take him in the back with my techs–” *he had previously behaved better away from his owner* “–or you can come back when your dog has had his medications.”

(At this, the owner stormed out of the room, walked past the receptionist, and headed out the door. I zeroed out the re-exam fee, as I didn’t expect to charge him for a visual exam only, and put in a note about our interaction. I just hope he will start giving his dog the medications, rather than trying to force his dog into fearful situations.)

(I pull into a drive-thru pharmacy to pick up my prescription, and there’s just one car in front of me. It’s ten full minutes before the car in front of me drives off and I can pull up to the window, but I’m not in a hurry, so I don’t really mind.)

Me: “I’m picking up a prescription for [My Last Name].”

Pharmacist: “Okay, let me just pull that up.”

(She’s gone for a few minutes, and I’m starting to think that this is why the line was slow. Obviously, I think, they must have new people there who don’t know what they’re doing. When she comes back:)

Pharmacist: “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any filled prescriptions listed under your name.”

Me: “But I got an email saying my prescription was ready.”

Pharmacist: “I don’t know what to say. We have you in our system from about two years ago, but there’s nothing recent.”

Me: “Can you check again? I got the email, so I know it’s ready.”

(The pharmacist is gone even longer this time, and I’m starting to feel pretty righteously indignant.)

Pharmacist: “No, we don’t have anything ready for you.”

Me: “Look, that just doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand how I can have an email from Walgreens right here saying that my prescription is ready, but you guys apparently don’t have it.”

Pharmacist: *blank stare* “Ma’am, this is CVS.”

(I felt like such a complete moron that I just drove away in embarrassment. Pharmacist, if you’re out there, I’m really sorry I didn’t apologize!)

Happy Birthday to the United States of America!  Today we celebrate… with barbeques and picnics and parties and, of course, lots and lots of fireworks.

Here are some of our favorite stories about the Fourth of July.  Enjoy!  And if you’d like to share your own tale of the Fourth, leave us a comment or submit it here!

Happy Treason Day! — But will they be serving tea?

Viva La Revelation — There’s no independence from annoying customers…

Independent Of The Closing Times — …or the entitled customers…

Independent Of This Holiday — …or the geographically confused customer.

Independent Of Your Day — Some Americans still forget that Canada is not the US.

The Fourth Is Not Strong With This One — Some British still forget that the US is not part of Great Britain.

Murica! The Lullaby — Well, is there one?

Not The Brightest Spark In The Firework Display — Same holiday, different day?

Were You Born On The Third Of July? — Same holiday, different month?

Those Silly Colonies And Their Quaint Rebellion — Same holiday, different holiday?

Leap Days Of Logic — Different country, different calendar?

An Argument For The Separation Of Church And State — And sometimes folks forget that we still have ties to where our country came from!

(I am working at a retail chain one night. While helping pick up empty pallets around the store, I pass out for no discernible reason, completely losing consciousness and only waking up briefly at the store to EMTs loading me into an ambulance. Strangely, I remember the rest of the events pretty clearly.)

Me: “No, no ambulance. I don’t want to go to the hospital; I don’t have money.”

EMT: “You have to go.”

Me: *trying to sit up and move away* “No, I’m fine. I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

(I lose consciousness again after that and wake up in the actual hospital room to a nurse taking my vitals.)

Me: *still groggy* “Um… Where am I? What happened?”

Nurse: “You’re in the hospital. What drugs did you take?”

Me: “Huh? I’m not on any medicine.”

Nurse: “No, what drugs did you take?”

Me: “None?”

Nurse: “Come on. You’re not in trouble; just tell me what drugs you’re on.”

Me: “I’m not on any drugs!”

(The nurse just gave me side-eye and left at that point, only to return with a doctor a few minutes later.)

Nurse: “Okay, you need to tell us what drugs you’re on.”

Me: *having recovered enough now to be (mostly) sensible* “I told you: I’m not on any drugs! I’m fine; I’d like to go now.”

Nurse: “You can’t leave until you tell us what drugs you’re on. Just tell us what you took and you can go.”

Me: “I’m. Not. On. Drugs. I don’t even know what happened!”

Doctor: “If you tell us what drugs you’re on, we can help you.”

Me: *out of patience* “I’m not on drugs! Why are you not listening?”

(Fortunately, my friend from work came in and did her best to assure the staff that, no, I was not on drugs. They finally ran some tests and let me leave, but I don’t think they ever believed I wasn’t on something. Seriously, I get you have to ask, but there has to be a limit. Plus, you HAVE my blood.)