Pancakes Can Cure All

(I am working at a major breakfast chain as a waiter on the night shift. One of my coworkers is a diabetic, and I have a history of hypoglycemic episodes. Thankfully, [Diabetic] knows the signs. This occurs on a prom night, after I’ve just spent two and a half hours running food and drinks to a group of 35.)

Diabetic: “[My Name], you’re getting derpy. First time I’ve seen you get a drink wrong in months!”

Me: “I’m fine.”

Diabetic: “No, you’re not fine.” *calling out louder* “[Manager], get over here and make [My Name] go sit down! He’s derping out!”

Me: “I’m not derping out!”

Manager: “His girlfriend’s over there; get his kit from her.”

Me: “I’m not derping out; [Diabetic]’s derping out! She just brought that short stack to the wrong table!”

([Manager] grabs both of us by the ears, drags us to the break room, and makes us test our blood sugar. Diabetic’s meter shows 300, mine shows 20.)

Manager: “Okay, you!” *points at [Diabetic]* “Insulin, now. You!” *points at me* “Pancakes, now. And when you’re done eating, give her half your pancreas!”

This story is part of our Diabetes roundup!

Read the next story in this roundup!

Read the Diabetes roundup!