Because I’m a klutz, I ended up in an ambulance going to the hospital. (The short version is that I dislocated my shoulder and couldn’t put it back myself.) While we were in the ambulance, the paramedic got my information and then took my vitals. My blood pressure reading came back.

Paramedic: “Huh. Have you ever been told you have high blood pressure?”

Me: “No.”

Paramedic: “Hmm… Well, your blood pressure is reading in the high range of what we consider normal. You probably should talk to your doctor about it.”

I kind of brushed it off because my focus was on my shoulder and telling them that I didn’t need or want drugs. But a couple of days later, I was thinking about it, and I really should have said something like, “Of course, my blood pressure is spiked! My arm is six inches longer than it’s supposed to be, it feels like it weighs an extra 100 pounds, and I’m in an ambulance on the way to the hospital! I’d be surprised if it was low!”

But even my discharge paperwork from the emergency room had a note to the effect of “Your blood pressure was a little high, so you should follow up with your doctor for potential pre-hypertension.” I mean, I get that they want to give people information and everything, but also, let’s put stuff into perspective, people! I might not have been reacting the way a lot of people would, but let’s look at the situation here. 

For the record, when I went to my doctor for a hospital follow-up visit, my blood pressure was normal.

I was the overnight coverage manager at a store that was open twenty-four-seven.

The building started to fill with smoke, but the alarms weren’t going off. I ushered everyone out and called the fire department. They came out and found that there had been an electrical short in the bakery — the bread proofer.

It never turned into open flame, which was good, because the short was right next to the main gas feed. It turned out to be a diversion, and someone broke the pharmacy doors from their hinges in the confusion and made off with a whole lot of narcotics.

Manager: “Next time, don’t evacuate unless there’s evidence of a fire! We have to report all of those stolen narcotics!”

Me: “So, smoke isn’t evidence of a fire?”

Manager: “Smoke doesn’t always mean there’s a fire!”

Me: “There’s a commonly used phrase that would strongly disagree with you.”

My manager didn’t hold me responsible, but I told him I’d do the same thing again even if I saw “just” smoke.

My mother worked for a small mom-and-pop shop, and she learned retail work there until she opened her own little shop in another town.

She got trained by a sweet lady who retired while my mother was still working there but came in every now and then to help out and to add to her very small pension. [Sweet Lady] was a kind person whom everyone on the staff loved, including the manager/owner whom she also trained. She was pretty much the heart, soul, and some other parts of that store, even at the age of seventy-ish when this story took place.

As can happen with old people, one day, [Sweet Lady] felt dizzy and had some chest pain, and people were worried she was having a heart attack. An ambulance was called. Ambulances don’t give two f***s about parking spaces, so they just parked their huge ambulance right in front of the store, which is sensible when every moment counts.

My mom was working the register, so she heard what was going on at the entrance. Cue entitled person.

Customer: “What’s that contraption out there? I could barely get into the store!”

Manager: “Lady, my apologies, but one of our workers has a medical emergency.”

Customer: “A worker? Pffft. If it was at least a customer, but a worker?! Why can’t they get sick on their own time, right?”

Manager: *After swallowing his tears* “Please leave my store while you still can. One ambulance a day is enough.”

For the record, it was just some irregularity with [Sweet Lady]’s heartbeat, and she left the hospital the same day, no heart attack. She lived to the age of eighty-three, and the store was closed on the day of her funeral. There was no staff available to run it; they were busy elsewhere, including the owner.

Related:
Your Entitlement Has Reached Platinum Level! 

I am a retired family physician. Before the days of computers, two patients arrived at the same time. [Patient #2] was scheduled ten minutes after [Patient #1]. [Patient #2] was having chest pain and was extremely short of breath — actually turning blue. The reception desk called for help.

My assistant got him in a room and started getting vital signs. I sent another assistant to get the crash cart and a third to start oxygen. I went into the hall and picked up the phone to call 911. I picked it up just before it had a chance to ring, and the reception desk was on the line.

[Patient #1] was upset and wanted to know when she would be seen.

Me: “We’re in the middle of a code blue.”

I hung up the phone and called 911. I gave the operator the information and went back to the patient. They were on oxygen and hooked up to an ECG, which showed they were having a heart attack.

By the time the paramedics arrived, we had given them aspirin and nitroglycerin. The paramedics took over, loaded [Patient #2] onto a gurney, and rolled them out through the waiting room to the aide car for transport to the hospital.

My assistant was busy putting away gear, so I went out to the waiting room and got [Patient #1]. I brought her back to an exam room, and she started complaining bitterly.

Patient #1: “I can’t believe I’m being seen out of order! I’ve been waiting for too long!”

Ten minutes had elapsed since she had arrived. I tossed her chart on the desk.

Me: “The reason you waited was that the patient seen before you was dying of a heart attack, and we had to save him! You waited all of ten minutes, and I brought you back myself. What clinic have you been used to going to where you wait less than ten minutes despite a medical emergency? I’d like to go there myself!”

I work as a dispatcher in a 911 call center. People call for all sorts of things, like settling an argument over the rules of Monopoly or other board games, answers to crossword puzzles, complaints about the weather, etc.

My favorite over the years:

Caller: “The power’s out. Can you have the fire department come over and hook up a generator? I need to watch the ballgame.”

Me: “Sorry, sir. They only have one generator, and it’s hooked up here so we can watch the ballgame.”

Caller: “Are you serious?!“

Me: “Are you? Should I be reporting this number to the police for reporting a non-emergency?”

Caller: “But it is an emergency! I’m missing the game!” 

I sent the police over, instead.