(My son stops breathing when he’s asleep, and has been seeing doctors regularly his whole life for it. They have no idea why it happens, but it definitely does, so we monitor it closely. The following happens with a doctor he’s seen at least every six months for years, when we go in to ask if there are more tests we could run.)

Doctor: “Why are you guys here today? It’s a little early for his next check-up.”

Me: “We want to know if there are more tests we can run. I know we talked about genetic testing last year, and we’re interested in going that route.”

Doctor: “Genetic testing? Who did you talk to about that? Why would you want to do it?”

Me: “Erm… You’re the one who suggested it last year. We got it all approved with insurance and had the paperwork ready to go, when you decided it wasn’t going to be worth it to do it, and to try something else.”

Doctor: “I don’t remember talking to you about genetic testing, and I don’t know why I’d suggest it. His last sleep study looked really good.”

Me & Husband: “WHAT?!”

Doctor: “I mean, there are still instances of the breathing issue happening, but they’re well within normal range.”

Husband: “Five months ago, you told us he wasn’t getting better, and that we couldn’t stop any treatment. You even sent us to another specialist then, too.”

Doctor: “Well, you can’t expect me to remember what I told you that long ago. Genetic testing is expensive, and a lot to do on someone so young, so let’s just run another sleep study and keep doing what we’ve been doing.”

(We left that appointment furious, and immediately called his pediatrician for a referral so we could get a second opinion. We still have no answers, but we like his new doctor a lot!)

(I have a scar on my jawline. It’s not super noticeable, but it’s there. I also have an excuse I use if anyone asks me about it and I don’t want to explain it.)

Customer: “Oh, hey, you have a little something there.”

Me: “I do?”

Customer: “Yeah, right there, by your jaw.”

Me: “Oh, yeah, that’s from when I got in a knife fight with a bear. You should see the other guy!”

Customer: “Umm, uh, really?”

Me: “I know, right? Who gives a bear a knife? They have talons already.”

Customer: *finally cluing in* “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you!”

Me: “It’s okay; I have thick skin. See, right here!” *points at scar*

(I work in a small town bakery. Only two workers are present for the evening shift. Each time we hear the door chime, signifying a customer has entered, my coworker and I do rock/paper/scissors to see who has to help the customer. I lose this time.)

Me: “Welcome to [Bakery]! How may I help you?

Customer: *cough* “I’d like a dozen doughnuts.” *cough* “Six glazed, three chocolate cake, two apple fritters… no, no.” *cough* “Not that glazed doughnut! No, to the right. Down one more. Yes, that one.” *cough*  “Then I want that one. No, the other one.”

(There are about 60 doughnuts on a tray, and it’s very hard to see where she is tapping the glass from my side. She continues to be this picky about every single doughnut in the entire dozen, all while her coughing worsens.)

Me: “Will that be all for you?”

Customer: *begins coughing so hard, she can’t speak, she only nods*

Me: “That will be [total].”

(As she hands me the money, she coughs up a HUGE piece of mucus onto half the money and part of the countertop. I stand there, frozen and mortified.)

Customer: *very happily* “Keep the change!”

(She grabs the doughnuts and rushes out. I am still standing there, staring at the counter and money in my hand. My coworker and another customer have witnessed all of this.)

Me: “What do I do?”

Coworker: “She’s your customer. You clean it up.”

(I did. She became a regular and was always coughing like that. I refused to help her, rock/paper/scissors or not!)

(I work EMS on a college campus. We get a call about an unresponsive student in a dorm bathroom. We arrive and talk to the roommate.)

Roommate: “She went in the bathroom about an hour ago, and she hasn’t come out, and won’t talk to me.”

Me: *knocks on the door* “Campus EMS! Are you okay?” *no response* “It’s EMS. Please open the door!” *no response* “Open the door, or we will break it down.” *no response*

(We break down the door and find a completely conscious girl inside.)

Me: “Are you okay?”

Girl: *completely indignant* “Why did you break down the door?!”

Me: “Because you didn’t say anything. Why didn’t you respond?”

Girl: “Because I have cramps and I was embarrassed.”

Did you find this story using our Emergency Services roundup?

Click here to read the next story!

Click here to get back to the roundup!

(I take an experiential education class during my undergraduate degree. Our main assignment is to pick a skill we aren’t familiar with and attempt it throughout the course. On the final day, we are to share our results and what helped us in learning the new skill. Prior to that, we just have to fill out a proposal, explaining to the professor what we are doing. One of our classmates is working on his outdoor cooking stove. Something goes wrong and he severely burns his hands. Somehow, it gets communicated through word of mouth that he has been trying out his new skill for the class and got his hands burned as a result. The next time we’re in that class, the professor notices he’s absent and asks where he is.)

Classmate #1: “Unfortunately, while he was working on his experiential project, he burnt his hands.”

Professor: “WHAT?”

Classmate #2: “Yeah, I think he’s still at the hospital. He should be okay, though.”

Professor: *has a stunned look on her face as she processes what is being said* “But he chose to do knitting.”

(Cue laughter from class as we quickly realized our mistake.)