A long, long time ago, I worked in the MRI department of a big NHS (National Health Service) hospital as a receptionist. We had three MRI scanners.

On a particular afternoon of the week, we offered “same-day” access to a certain private patient clinic. The patients in her clinic required an MRI scan as part of their workup, and the MRI department was happy to get the money generated; because the MRIs were effectively done on demand, we were able to charge two to three times the usual fee, which worked out to about £1,500 per MRI. The extra money allowed us to fund additional MRI lists for NHS patients who needed urgent scans.

These extra MRIs were slotted in between the booked NHS MRIs, where the NHS patients waited four to six months for routine MRIs and two to three weeks for urgent MRIs. It was made clear to the private patients that they were being “fitted in” around patients with a booked appointment time, so while they wouldn’t get their scan the minute they walked in, it would usually be a twenty-minute wait at most.

I worked in the MRI department for about a year, and the vast majority of the same-day private patients were actually well-behaved and appreciated having their scan at the same as seeing the consultant. Naturally, we had the occasional complaint about waiting times, but usually, they were a result of some of the MRIs taking longer or one of the MRI scanners breaking down. And then there was [Patient].

I’d worked in the department for about eight months, just long enough for me to know how lippy I could get with a patient and not get in trouble.

The morning had not started off well. One of the MRI scanners had broken down so we were trying to run three lists with only two scanners, and one of the other MRI scanners had a fault that had to be fixed. By 1:00 pm, just as the first private patient was due to arrive, we were nearly two hours behind and had seven NHS patients whose appointment times had already come and long gone.

[Patient] came in with her MRI form. I checked her in and explained the current situation to her.

Me: “You’re likely to wait about forty-five minutes.”

She huffed and puffed but sat down.

About ten minutes later, [Patient] came back up to the desk.

Patient: “How much longer am I going to have to wait?”

Me: “Likely about thirty-five minutes.”

[Patient] came up again ten minutes later, and I told her the wait would be about twenty-five minutes. Just before she sat down, the next NHS patient was called in for their scan.

Patient: “Hey! Why wasn’t I called in for my scan? Why was someone called in ahead of me?!”

I explained to her what she already knew and that the patient who was just called in had a booked appointment.

Patient: “I demand to be the next person to be called in!”

Me: “Ma’am, there are two more patients ahead of you, and then you will be called in.”

Patient: “I don’t see why I have to wait. I’m paying £1,500 for this MRI; these people are getting it for free.”

Me: “They have been waiting for six months for this MRI. You’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.”

Patient: “Since they’ve already waited for six months, they won’t mind waiting another half an hour.”

Me: “Let’s find out.”

I raise my voice and address the waiting room.

Me: “Ladies and gentlemen, this private patient has asked if she can cut in front of all of you since she paying for this MRI and you’ve already waited for six months, so another thirty minutes won’t matter to you. Do any of you have an issue if she goes in next?”

I have never seen someone sit down and shut up so quickly.

I like to give out stickers to little kids if they’re behaving or I feel they need a happiness boost. I get the stickers from charities, so I only spend the time it takes to cut them up and package them in little envelopes I can fit in my pocket. I used to be a tutor, but now I work in a hospital. Any child that comes into the hospital on a stretcher I figure deserves stickers no matter what.

One little girl comes into the hospital absolutely bawling. I don’t know if it hurts that much, if it is so scary, or what’s wrong, but I want to get her to stop crying.

Me: “Would stickers make it better?”

Little Girl: “NO.” *Keeps crying*

Me: “Would you like some stickers anyway?”

She took the stickers and stopped crying.

I don’t know if I confused her, but I feel I accomplished my mission.

When I worked in a restaurant, we had a regular who would always ask for recommendations, and no matter what we suggested, he would tell us he had that last week and it sucked. He would take up as much time as possible, no matter how busy the restaurant was.

He had a wife who would jokingly tell him to knock it off, but she would laugh, so it would just encourage him to be a jerk. Then, after I’d take the food to them, the regular would ask me to box it up so they could take it home.

They would only occasionally leave a tip.

Years later, I was a brand-new nurse, and my coworker had a tray of food thrown at her by a patient. Guess who the patient was?

I work as a phlebotomist in a hospital. I’m currently getting ready to draw blood from a woman in the emergency room. We are separated from another patient in the room by a curtain. Just as I am about to start, we hear a woman scolding her husband next door. 

Woman: “Don’t do that! It’s disgusting!”

Man: “Why? You’re the only one in here. I toot at home, and you have never said anything.”

Woman: “There are other people in the room on the other side of the curtain.”

Man: “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t get up to go to the bathroom. It gets uncomfortable.”

Woman: “Well, just don’t. There are other people; I’m sure they think we are disgusting. No one wants to hear you, and what if it leaves a smell that wafts over there?”

Me: *Softly to my patient* “Do you care if that guy farts?”

Patient: *Also quietly* “No; everyone farts.” 

Patient’s Husband: *Loudly* “We have four kids. Farting is a normal part of our life. It’s actually one of the least disgusting parts of our day. It’s a normal, necessary process.”

At that, a loud fart came from the other room.

Patient’s Husband: “It’s just like home!”

My uncle is a nurse. One night, he was on shift and a patient came in. I never learned what exactly was wrong, but he was in so much pain that he passed out before coming in and ended up needing surgery. He had no contacts and no known support system — no family, no friends, no roommates, no caretaker, nothing. He was completely on his own.

After getting out of surgery, the patient called my uncle.

Patient: “Hey, I’m really sorry to ask this, but… when I went into surgery, I had underwear. Now I have the rest of my clothes back, but no underwear. Do you know where they might’ve gone? Or could you get me new ones?”

And that’s how my uncle ended up skipping a family party to go buy underwear for a complete stranger. A few of my relatives shook their heads, but I’m proud of the choice he made.