IOU One IUD

, , , , , | 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 anymore 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.”)

Their Humanity Is Not Up To The Mark

, , , , , , | Friendly | September 7, 2017

(I have a stork bite [red birthmark] on my forehead and down the side of my nose. I’m working the check-out, and am ringing up an older gentleman. Everything is going fine until…)

Customer: “You have something on your face.”

Me: “Oh, you mean my birthmark?”

(The man thinks for a bit, then leans right in and pokes me hard on my forehead.)

Customer: “That’s where God said, ‘I.’” *pokes me hard* “’Hate.’” *pokes me hard again* “’You.’” *pokes me hard one last time*

(The man then happily grabbed his purchase and walked out. I was too stunned to say anything.)

Drop Bad Management Or Drop Calls

, , , , | Working | September 7, 2017

I work in a call centre that runs two main services, and our clients pay us to take calls from their customers on their behalf. Service A is very generic, used by most of our clients, and everyone is trained on it by default. Service B is more specialised, and each client has it tailored to their individual business needs, so any agents dealing with service B need in-depth training for the individual client before taking calls for them.

Usually all but two colleagues leave at 6 pm, then the last people leave at 8 pm when the call centre closes. On this Monday afternoon, however, and for the whole week, everyone else was scheduled to leave by 5:30, leaving one colleague dealing with two busy channels, by herself, for two and a half hours. Around mid-afternoon, she started feeling a bit unwell, took some over-the-counter drugs, and hoped for the best. Towards five, she was feeling very unwell, and asked if anyone else would be willing to cover her shift, but as they would be effectively doing 11.5 to 12 hours in a day, no one was willing. She let a manager know, but they, too, were unable to find anyone who could cover the evening shift, and she was told she would just have to deal with it.

By 6:15, she was shaking and holding her head in pain. She put a customer on hold and started crying as she stared at the screen, trembling like crazy, so we decided to call a team leader over, as we weren’t sure if she was able to do so herself. We couldn’t hear much of what she said to the team leader, as we were a bit far away and she was struggling to get words out, but we gathered that her head felt like it was on fire, and she could no longer read what was on the screen. The TL started to panic, as our colleague clearly wasn’t able to continue, all the other service B lines had closed before 6 pm, and there wasn’t anyone else in the call centre who was trained for it. Since this line was for our biggest client, we could not just close it. In the end, the TL found someone who had about half a day’s training on service B for this client, instead of the usual two-week training required, (and no training whatsoever for the other clients our colleague was covering). They were asked to do as much as they could, and arrange callbacks for the rest of the team the next day. Our ill coworker went home and did not return until Wednesday.

Despite this situation, and the importance of this client, when the new rota was released later that week, management refused to go back to the old system of having two people present until 7, and kept arranging for everyone, save one, to leave by 5:30, or 6 pm about twice a week. They also refused to “waste resources” training up late-night back-ups because of the greater call volumes for service A. This pattern continued for another six weeks, with one more person getting ill on the day they were due to do a late shift, and another person quitting because of it. After six weeks, the big client decided to terminate the service B contract with us, due to the number of complaints they had regarding excessive wait times and being an inability to get through to anyone after 6 pm. Most of the team lost their jobs, but the manager responsible for setting rotas and monitoring incoming call wait times and dropped calls did not.

Dumping Everything On You At The Funeral

, , , | Friendly | September 6, 2017

Friend: “I’ve got something really important to tell you.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

Friend: *deep breath* “All that chocolate you gave me…”

Me: “From last year?”

Friend: “I ate it all before coming over. And it feels like it’s pulling on my intestines.”

Me: “…”

Friend: “I think I need the toilet, REALLY BAD.”

Me: “Well, go?”

(He told me this, at full volume, at my brother’s funeral. Everyone heard. He was in the toilet so long, we were billed for extending the service.)

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