A Large Dose Of Laziness

, , , | Healthy | December 18, 2017

(I am diagnosed with a rare neurological condition and go to the Mayo Clinic. My medication doses have to be adjusted continuously for several months and I am now on a combination of both the regular and extended release for the best effect. Since Mayo does not accept my insurance and I had to pay for their evaluation out of pocket, I am now transferring to an in-network neurologist for follow-up care.)

Me: “So I’m on [Medication] and I take 1000 mg extended and 500 regular in the morning, and then 1000 mg extended and 250 mg regular in the evening.”

Doctor: “Oh, that’s too complicated. I’m just going to write your prescription for 1000 mg twice a day.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Doctor: “I don’t know why you ended up on such a complicated dose.”

Me: “Because the neurologist at Mayo Clinic carefully adjusted my dose over several months, and we determined that this was what worked best to control my symptoms. You have all the records from Mayo.”

Doctor: “Yes, but it’ll be so much easier for you to just take 1000 mg twice a day.”

(I didn’t go back.)

Unfiltered Story #102052

, , , | Unfiltered | December 18, 2017

(I worked in a fast food restaurant only found in the southwestern states. I’m wiping down tables and cleaning lobby, and my coworker is African

American, very tall and working the registers. I’m short, about 8 months pregnant, and looked high school age.)

Customer: “Sir, can you get someone to help me. I don’t trust you with my order.”

Coworker: “Ma’am, I can take your order.”

Customer: “No, you can’t. Your ‘kind’ rarely have a high school education. You’ll steal my identity!”

Coworker:*sigh* “[My name], can you come handle this transaction?”

Me: “How can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “I will not have a high school drop out whore handle my information either! Get me someone else!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not in high school, and I’m quite happily married. How may I help you?”

(She ignores me and looks around, seeing my manager in the back. Now, my manager is Hispanic, transgender from male to female, and from the back doesn’t look like it, with her gorgeous long hair.)

Customer: “Get me your manager! That manager right there! She should be able to help me! She obviously has her life together!”

Manager: *in an obviously male voice* “How can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “Abominations! Abominations, all of you! Get me your highest manager, right now! I demand I have a decent person who can take my order!”

(My GM saw everything on the security monitors, and my manager explained everything to him.)

Manager: “Ma’am, he’ll be out shortly.”

General Manager: *with a ‘gay’ accent* “How can I help you, darling?”

Customer: *running out, pushing me over in the process* “Abominations! Every one of you! Abominations!”

(I went into premature labor, thanks to her, and had a healthy baby girl! I found out later that the same woman was arrested the same day in my fast food restaurant, she came in while my GM was giving the police officers her information for attacking me.)

 

The Training Has Hit A Block

, , , , , | Working | December 17, 2017

(The guy before me at the checkout has all his items on the belt, as well as the between customer’s separator block. The very young check-out girl picks up the separator block and waves it at the scanner. Obviously, nothing happens.)

Cashier: *looking puzzled* “I don’t have a price for this. I’ll have to call a supervisor.”

(The customer looks at me with a ‘what the h***?’ expression before turning to the cashier.)

Customer: “Don’t bother. I didn’t really want it anyway.”

Cashier: “Okay, have a good day!”

(Somehow, I felt her training hadn’t been quite adequate for a check-out cashier’s position!)

Suffering From Temporal Displacement

, , | Healthy | December 17, 2017

(I’m headed to a doctor’s appointment that I scheduled two weeks prior. The appointment time is 3:30 and that was confirmed twice while talking to the receptionist, and I was left a voicemail the day before my appointment again confirming my 3:30 check in. I always like to arrive early because I work in the medical field myself and I know how important it is to be in time. I show up at a very prompt 3:10.)

Me: “Hi, I’m early but I’m here to check in for my 3:30 appointment.”

Receptionist: *very blankly* “Name.”

Me: *says name*

Receptionist: *SIGH* “Let me ask the doctor is she can see you because you’re really late.”

(The receptionist walks away before I can say anything. She comes back and rolls her eyes.)

Receptionist: “I guess she’ll see you, but you’re late.”

Me: “I’m twenty minutes early. My appointment is 3:30.”

Receptionist: “No, you’re twenty minutes late. Fill this out so she can take you back.”

(It’s not worth the fight, so I sit down and finish the paperwork. Soon after, the door swings open and the doctor calls my name.)

Doctor: “Hurry back. I need to rush because you’re very late and now my schedule is behind.”

Me: “My appointment was 3:30. I’m early.”

Doctor: “That’s not what my schedule says. You’re holding up my day.”

Me: “I have a voicemail even confirming my time!”

Doctor: *rolls eyes* “Sure you do. Hurry up.”

(I’m so annoyed with being called a liar I play the voicemail on speaker.)

Doctor: “Oh. They did say to check in at 3:30. But you’re still late; now hurry up.”

(I was so annoyed but the wait on this appointment was forever and I just quickly did the appointment. She was terrible and I never went back after that.)

Breakfast Schedule Will Be Crumbling For A While

, , , , , | Related | December 14, 2017

(My mom buys a huge box of some organic multigrain toaster pastry things, and decides she doesn’t like them. Rather than return them to the store, she decides to give them to me when I stop by to pick up my daughter after work. Knowing that she doesn’t give food away without good reason, I decide to try some, and my daughter is watching me intently as I open the package.)

Daughter: “Ooh, Mommy, you have cookies? You shouldn’t have cookies before your dinner!” *wags her finger at me*

Me: “Cookies? Uhm, no, I suppose not. But since there’s two of these cookie things here, and sharing is fun, would you like one?”

Daughter: “Ooh! YES! Cookie!”

Me: *tries the “cookie,” and immediately regrets that decision*

Daughter: *bites* “Mmm, yummy cookie! Thank you, Mommy! Oh, this is so good!”

Me: “You’re welcome. Have mine… Please!”

(We ended up taking the “cookies” home with us, where she had “cookies” with breakfast every day for the next few weeks.)

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