(My coworker and I are putting items back on the shelves. I’ve got an armful of beauty products that I’m putting back, in addition to a whole cart full of items that a customer left. He’s just standing there, watching. He’s male, I’m female. We’re both in college.)

Me: “Hey, there’s a few boxes of tampons in the cart that go on this aisle. Can you put them back?”

Coworker #1: “Ew! No, you do it.”

Me: “Okay, then you come put all this makeup back.”

Coworker #1: “No way; that’s girl stuff!”

Me: “Then put the tampons away.”

Coworker #1: “That’s so gross.”

Me: “They’re not used, you idiot. They’re individually wrapped in a freaking box.”

Coworker #1: “I’m not touching those.”

Me: “What are you going to do when you get a girlfriend?”

Coworker #1: “She’s buying her own tampons.”

([Coworker #2], also a college-age guy, walks over.)

Coworker #2: “[Coworker #1], man, you’ve got to be kidding me. Dumba**.”

(He grabs the boxes of tampons out of the cart and puts them back on the shelf.)

Coworker #2: “This is why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

(He high-fived me and headed back to his register.)

(At the time of this story, I’m in ninth grade. I’m a girl. Due to my introverted personality, two girls in my biology class have decided it would be fun to pick on me. We are doing pig dissections in class today.)

Teacher: “…and [My Name], you’ll be partnered with [Mean Girl #1].”

([Mean Girl #1] smirks at me as our teacher brings out the fetal pigs.)

Teacher: “All right, kids, pair off and I’ll give you your specimens.”

Mean Girl #1: “Ew! Like, that is so gross!”

Mean Girl #2: “I didn’t know we’d be dissecting, like, actual animals!”

Teacher: “LADIES! Yes, they are fetal pigs, and they were frozen. We went over this yesterday.”

Mean Girl #2: “That’s, like, totally gross and animal cruelty! I’m not doing it!”

Teacher: *heavy sigh* “Fine. Go to the library and tell [Other Biology Teacher] that you’re going to do the computer dissection.”

(They exit, making gagging noises.)

Teacher: “[My Name], your partner is [Popular Girl].”

(She comes over to my lab station.)

Popular Girl: “Do you mind if I do the actual dissection? I love this kind of stuff!”

Me: “Seriously? Uh… sure. I’ll take notes!”

Popular Girl: “SWEET!”

(She successfully dissects the pig, while I take notes and diagram the different parts. The group from the library comes back in as we’re finishing up.)

Me: “Hey [Mean Girl #1 & #2]! Look at this!”

(I pull some gloves on and point out the pig’s heart.)

Mean Girl #1: “OH, MY GOD! Why would you show me that?!”

Mean Girl #2: “You’re a freak!”

Popular Girl: *puts her gloves back on, picks up the heart, and waves it in their direction* “Look! It’s so squishy! Come touch it!”

(She advances toward them. They scream and run into the hallway.)

Teacher: *holding back laughter* “Okay, okay, no taunting your classmates with pig parts.”

(They never made fun of me again, and [Popular Girl] and I became friends!)

(I am doing clinicals at the hospital as part of my certified nursing assistant (CNA) program, on the communicable disease ward. I enter at patient room. Now, in this program students aren’t even allowed in the rooms of any patients with airborne contagious diseases. It is also a rule of the hospital that signs be placed on the front of the door along with masks for airborne diseases. I’m making my rounds and enter a room where the patient is sleeping, and grab the chart. He has a serious infectious airborne. I backtrack out of the room and look at the door. No sign, no masks. I approach my teacher about this, and then the head nurse.)

Me: “I read the chart in 334—”

Nurse: “You shouldn’t be in 334. He’s airborne and you’re a student.”

Me: “That’s why I came to you. There is no—”

Nurse: “Why were you in there? You could get seriously sick.”

Me: “You assign—”

Nurse: “It doesn’t matter what I assigned you to. You should know the rules. That’s why I hate working with students. Too stupid to even notice the sign on the door.”

(Now I’m irritated at the interruptions as well as the insinuation of stupidity.)  

Me: “Look, lady, I’m not dumb; I’m top of the class. If you’d let me finish a sentence, I could tell you–”

Nurse: “Oh, God. If you’re top of the class, I’d hate to see—”

(I finally snap and interrupt her.)

Me: “And if you’re the head nurse here who is in charge of making sure people are doing their jobs so patients don’t die, I’d hate to see your mortality rate. As I was saying before, there is no sign, no masks, nothing on the door to indicate airborne. There aren’t masks inside or out. As the head nurse, shouldn’t you know this? You assigned me three rooms. When I said the room number you immediately knew he was airborne without pulling a chart. One could figure you knew this upon assigning my rooms, and ignored the rules, or have come across this information since, and rather than changing my assignment, or at least informing me, you just let it go.”

Nurse: “I shouldn’t have to tell you not to enter an airborne room. Now you say you went in without a mask?”

Me: “You should be sure that airborne is indicated as per the rules.”

Nurse: “You’re rude to me. You make a mistake then you’re rude to me. Your teacher will hear about this. Go work on your other patient rooms.”

Me: “My teacher has already heard about this. From me. And I’m not going to work with other sick people when I may have been contaminated. I’m going to tell my teacher I’m going home. I’d suggest you get a d*** sign and masks on that door before you get someone killed.”

(I go to my teacher and fill her in on the conversation. My teacher said she would deal with it, I should go, and to be sure to get tested as well. Then she says this…)

Teacher: “Maybe don’t apply to work here?”

(I am a student in a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA) program doing rotations in a nursing home shadowing a CNA working there. This patient is not part of our assigned rooms but is screaming for help. I ignore it at first, as I’m literally surrounded by medical professionals and figure her CNA or nurse will be in soon. Instead it carries on.)

Me: “Shouldn’t we check in on her?”

CNA: “She’s not ours, and she’s always like this. She just wants attention.”

Me: “Okay.”

(Ten minutes later, she is still screaming for help. Nobody is paying attention, and my CNA goes to do something without me. So since I have a 15-minute break without anyone to shadow, I decide to check on the woman. If she just wants attention, no harm done, I can talk a few minutes.)

Me: “Hi, I’m a student. Can I help?”

Patient: “My stomach.”

Me: *picks up chart* “How does your stomach feel?” *I look at the page detailing all she has ate and drank and any output, or waste, that day, thinking it’s an upset stomach*

Patient: “It’s exploding.”

Me: “That’s awful.”

(Then I notice she’s on a catheter, but no urine output has been recorded on her otherwise detailed chart. I look at her cath bag, and there is no urine in it. For those who don’t know much about caths there is always something. The body is constantly producing urine, and with a cath it drains straight off. This seems dangerous to me.)

Me: “I’m going to get you some help.”

(To the nurse at the station.)

Me: “The patient who has been screaming, I just checked in with her.”

Nurse: “She wants attention. Ignore it.”

(I find my teacher.)

Me: “This patient isn’t mine, but she’s been screaming. I keep getting told she’s attention seeking, but she has a cath and no output.”

Teacher: “I’ll check her.”

(I go about my day, and right before the students meet with the teacher for end of the day, I check in with the patient and she starts crying and thanking me profusely, saying nobody else listens, and I helped, and now she is ok. I note there is urine output in the bag. I go on to meet my class, and my teacher starts our reporting. As her final note:)

Teacher: “Oh, and [My Name] saved a woman’s life today!”

Me: “I did?”

Teacher: “Her catheter was misplaced. She had no urine output. You noticed while everyone else ignored her. When I placed her catheter correctly, the bag overflowed. Her bladder was close to bursting, which could have been serious or even killed her. Let this be a lesson, class: don’t ignore a patient just because they aren’t yours or want attention.”

(I am having a bad day and decide to get some ice cream to help cheer me up. My roommate goes with me to a restaurant near us. They have a brownie sundae on the menu that I’ve been meaning to try.)

Waitress: “What can I get you?”

Roommate: “I’ll have the cheese fries.”

Me: “And I’d like the brownie sundae, please.”

Waitress: “Sure thing!”

(She leaves and comes back a few minutes later.)

Waitress: “So, um, you wanted ice cream on your sundae, right?”

Me: “Yes?”

Waitress: “My boss just told me it doesn’t come with ice cream, but you can add it for a dollar.”

Me: “What does it come with?”

Waitress: “Just, like, chocolate sauce and whipped cream. I can push for us to give it to you, and argue that it’s misrepresented on the menu.”

Me: “No… I guess I’ll just have it without.”

Waitress: “Okay. Your food should be right up.”

(She brings our food and sets down a slab of cold brownie with the saddest, deflated dollop of whipped cream on it.)

Waitress: “We’re, um, not really known for our desserts.”

(The cheese fries were still great, as usual, and of course, we tipped her, but I won’t be ordering dessert from them any time soon!)