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, , , , , | Working | September 8, 2017

(I’m at the doctor’s office with my mother and five-month-old daughter. Due to having my daughter prematurely, then battling an illness, an infection, and an open wound for two months, I’m finally able to talk to my doctor about how I have healed after my c-section, along with birth control.)

Me: “You sure about this, Mom?”

Mom: “Yes, I had one, and it worked beautifully.”

Me: “I just don’t know…”

Nurse: *walks in*

Me: “I’m a bit nervous to get a IUD.”

Nurse: “Oh, you don’t want that.”

Me: “…I don’t?”

Nurse: “No, those things are hell. They hurt, they ruin your uterus, and they can cause you to lose it. Oh, and they can embed themselves and requires surgery to be removed.”

Me: “W-What?!”

Mom: “Hey!”

Nurse: “Besides, you’re breastfeeding. That’ll keep you from getting pregnant.”

Mom: *dryly* “No… it doesn’t, dear. I got pregnant with my youngest while I was nursing my third child.”

Me: “…No. I want the IUD. And I’m not currently nursing… I don’t produce enough.”

Nurse: “I suggest the pill, or keep your legs shut.” *glares at me*

Me: “Excuse you! For one thing, I don’t do well with pills; I forget them very easily! For another, it doesn’t matter to you what I do with my sex life, let alone what direction my legs go.”

Nurse: “Then get the shot!”

Me: “Um, no. With the shot, I hit up so many negative side effects that it’s just not worth it. May I talk to another nurse?”

Nurse: “No, I’m your nurse. Then just get your tubes tied!”

Me: “No. I am not ready to decide not to have any more children at all at this time, despite being scared to have another. It doesn’t feel right. I want the IUD.”

Nurse: “You do not! I’ll put you down for the shot.” *leaves the room*

Me: “No! Mom!”

Mom: “Here. Take your baby. I have an a** to beat.” *leaves the room*

(I sit in the room for only a few minutes, holding and feeding my daughter, when I hear my mother yelling at another nurse. At this point, I can only assume it is the same one. While that is going on, and my daughter has drained her bottle, my doctor walks in.)

Doctor: “I assume that is your mother.”

Me: “Good call.”

Doctor: “Wow! She is big! Healthy little girl. May I?”

Me: “Absolutely!”

Doctor: *holding my daughter* “All right. I see here you want the shot? I thought we agreed on the IUD?”

Me: “We did… apparently the nurse was hell-bent on not letting me get it. She was more than rude, not taking no for an answer, and she scared me with the side effects.”

Doctor: “The side effects really don’t happen often. I’ve yet to see them myself to be honest. I think it’s the best choice for you. Let me go get a different nurse, and we’ll insert the IUD. Here’s your baby. She’s beautiful, and a miracle.”

(I got my IUD, and the nurse wound up fired. Apparently this wasn’t the first time. Nor was it the first time my mother went after a nurse during this whole ordeal. It’s been over a year, and no terrible side effects yet!)

Pray They Were Talking About Filing

, , , , , | Related | September 8, 2017

(I am sitting in the waiting room of my local GP, where a mother and her son have arrived for their appointment.)

Receptionist: “Miss [Name], I think [Son] needs the toilet.”

Mother: “No, he does that when he’s getting ready. That’s his potty dance.”

Receptionist: “Sorry, but I think he’s trying to tell you he really needs to go.”

Mother: “I’m his mother. I know my son better than anyone. He’ll be ready in a couple of minutes. I’ll take him after his dance.”

(The receptionist protested again, and the mother threatened to complain about her. The boy stopped dancing around a few minutes later, and it looked like he was in a lot of pain. Just as his mother was about to take him to the toilet, the doctor called them in and she decided to force her son to wait again. He could barely move and we were all a bit worried. I was called in to see my doctor next. By the time I left, there were police officers in the building, and I could hear hysterical screaming coming from one of the rooms. As I walked by, I heard one of the receptionists saying, “Imagine using a paperclip to keep it shut.”)

A Highly Pronounced Need For Anger Management

, , , , | Working | September 8, 2017

(I work at a fast food restaurant with a girl that acts like a drill sergeant. She is in charge of the training of newbies. This particular new hire is obviously from Africa, and doesn’t speak much English. I’m a new hire, too.)

Trainer: “[New Hire]! Come here!”

New Hire: *comes over*

Trainer: “This dish goes over to that table! Now, what is this dish?”

New Hire: “Ah, um…”

Trainer: “Faster! Customers are waiting!”

New Hire: “…ah…”

Trainer: “STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT. I’M NOT GONNA TELL YOU! SO, STOP AND THINK! WHAT IS THIS DISH CALLED!?” *slams hand over and over on the counter-top loud* “WHAT IS IT CALLED!”

(There is a long painful silence while the foreign new hire stutters and stammers, turning beet red, and on verge of tears. The GM finally speaks up with the dish’s name.)

Trainer: “[Dish Name]! It’s [Dish Name]! Why couldn’t you remember that? Now go and repeat it to yourself! What is it called?! Gimme its name! NAME NOW!”

New Hire: *pronounces dish’s name incorrectly, due to a thick accent*

Trainer: “NO! IT’S [Dish Name]! GOD!”

(She threw the dish all over dramatically and the GM said nothing as she threw a screaming fit everywhere. I quit that day, along with a lot of others. Sad, but this wasn’t the only restaurant that was mean to minimum-wage workers like this.)

This Sale Kicked The Bucket

, , , , | Right | September 8, 2017

(I am taking a customer’s order.)

Me: “That will be [amount], please.”

(She suddenly kicks the front of the counter.)

Me: “Madam?”

(She kicks again more violently, then moves to a spiral collection box we have for children, then on to a condiment table. My manager comes out, and collectively the staff and customers watch as she tries to damage something. After a few tries she gives up.)

Customer: “So, how much do I get off for that?”

Me: “Get off?”

Customer: “My sister said if I kicked up a fuss, I would get money off my order.”

Manager: “Yes… that usually doesn’t involve literally kicking the furniture. You’ve got ten seconds to disappear, or I call the police.”

(She ran, and we gave the police our camera footage of the incident. After my manager’s monthly meeting, he told us she had tried the same thing at another two restaurants in our region. To our knowledge, she hasn’t been arrested yet.)

Just Try To Steal Away From Them

, , , , , | Friendly | September 8, 2017

(A customer has come to me asking if I can find an item for her. I take her to where the stock is. I take an item off the hook to show her, but because the stock in that area is tightly packed, I knock a few small items off neighboring hooks. As I reach down to pick them up, I notice that her bag is on the shelf right underneath and is open.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’ve knocked some items down; would you mind checking to see if any have fallen into your bag?”


Me: “I wasn’t accusing you; I was the one who may have knocked something into it. I was just asking if you would check!”

Customer: “I’VE NEVER BEEN SO INSULTED IN ALL OF MY LIFE, BEING ACCUSED OF BEING A THIEF!” *flings the item at me and storms off*

Me: “I honestly didn’t accuse you of being a thief; I’m sorry if you thought so.”

(She turned the corner abruptly, knocking one of the items I dropped out of a fold in her bag.)