CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(I am a 22-year-old female and have always had problems with my feet, which are completely flat and also wide. I’ve been having intense pain in my left foot for a few years, and not one doctor or specialist I’ve gone to has had an explanation. Finally, I am told by a foot surgeon that I have a deformity in both feet that has caused arthritis and is the reason I am unable to walk properly. I am advised to have two metal screws implanted in my left foot to alleviate the pain and hopefully correct the structure of my foot. I go in for surgery and this happens when I stay overnight after the operation. “Nurse” is my day nurse and “Night Nurse” is the nurse assigned to give me the pain medication during the night.)

Nurse: “I’m going to take your vitals and let you get some rest. Your night nurse will come in to give you the pain medication soon. Can you swallow pills?”

(I tell her I can and expect to have no problems. Boy, am I wrong. Over the course of the night, I am pretty loopy from the anesthesia and all I want to do is sleep. A night nurse comes in to take my vitals again sometime in the night and says someone else will give me pain medication later. This repeats for some time with her and one other nurse until the morning, where I’ve recovered enough to realize I am in intense pain and nobody has given me the pain medication I need. Early the next morning, I am exhausted and crying from the pain when my parents come to see me.)

Mom: “What happened?! Why are you crying?!”

Me: *crying* “I’ve been up almost all night and nobody gave me pain medication!”

Mom & Dad: “WHAT?!”

(They track down a nurse and repeat what I’ve said.)

Nurse: “Um, a night nurse would have given you medication. You’re supposed to take it every three hours.”

Me: “Well, no one gave me anything. They woke me up to take my vitals several times and that was it!”

Nurse: “I’m going to look into this. Let me talk to the other nurses.”

(She leaves for a bit, then comes back with the night nurse who I recognize from last night. They both don’t look happy.)

Night Nurse: “We gave you medication last night. You just don’t remember it.”

Me: “You and some other nurse woke me up to take my vitals and said someone else will give me the medication. If I took the medication, I wouldn’t be in so much pain!”

Nurse: *hands me a pill bottle* “Just to make sure, these are what you’re supposed to take. Have you had these at all?”

Me: “No! I haven’t taken any pills!”

Night Nurse: “Well, did you tell someone that you needed it?”

(My parents and the other nurse just stare at her in disbelief.)

Mom: “Of course she needs it! You’re in charge of making sure she gets the medication on time!”

Night Nurse: *snotty* “She’s a big girl. She has to tell us if she needs it or not!”

(My nurse rushes the night nurse out before the situation escalates. My parents are furious and my nurse is also frustrated. I’m angry, too, of course, but more exhausted, and I just want to go home to recover in peace.)

Nurse: “I am so sorry. I had no idea this happened. There is no excuse for that. You are absolutely right: the night staff is responsible to get you that medication and they should have been keeping an eye on you.”

Me: “Can I just go home? I really don’t want to be here anymore…”

Nurse: “Unfortunately, now that I know you haven’t had any medication, I have to keep you here to catch up on the doses. I can’t send you home until I get this in your system and make sure you’re okay.”

(I was more upset by this, but I knew she had to do her job and didn’t say anything else. Over the next few hours, I was finally given the pain medication and I basically slept all day until she told me I could go home in the evening. Thanks to the night nurse’s negligence, I had to keep taking the medication for an extra few days until the pain got under control. We filed an official complaint against the nurse, but nothing has happened so far.)

(I’m trying to check a customer out in the lobby when the phone rings. I answer it to place them on hold while I get the customer his change so he can leave.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Pizza Place]; could you please hold?”

Caller: “Yes, I would like to order some pizzas.”

Me: “Yes, but could you please hold for a moment?”

Caller: “I’m sorry, what?”

Me: “Could you please hold?”

Caller: “Um…”

Me: “Could you please hold…”

Caller: “You want my address?”

Me: “No, can you hold, please?”

Caller: “My address is—“

Me: “No, ma’am, I really need you to hold.”

Caller: “Oh, okay, I guess…”

(I place her on hold and grab another customer’s pizza and the first one’s change.)

Customer In Lobby: “She really didn’t want to hold, did she?”

Me: “Not the first person like that today.”

(The guy gave me a nice tip even though he had to wait several minutes longer than he should have.)

Several years ago I had a summer job working as a clerical officer in an NHS Hospital. One of my reception duties involved checking patients into the antenatal clinics. The receptionist explained to me that when patients arrived for the clinic I had to take their name, and if it was their first appointment, I had to write “no file” on their letter and bring it down to the nursing station. Women who had previously been to the clinic did have a file, so I had to pull out their file, check their details were correct, and bring the file down to the nursing station.

The receptionist showed me how to do the first few arrivals and then said I could take over. The next patient arrived for her antenatal appointment. I smiled at her and her husband, greeted them warmly, and the woman handed me her appointment letter. “Okay, Mrs. [Patient],” I said, trying to appear professional. “Is this your first appointment?”

The woman looked surprised and glanced down at her belly. “No…” she said. She was quite large by this stage! Her husband just smiled, clearly amused. “Oh… Sorry!” I stammered, then retrieved her file, checked her details, and asked her to take a seat in the waiting area. As she and her husband walked off, the receptionist leaned over to me. “Yeah, it’ll be obvious to you if it’s their first appointment!” she said, smiling. I apologised again, but the receptionist told me not to worry, as we all make mistakes!

The receptionist went on holiday, and I managed to cover reception surprisingly well. And during the next three antenatal clinics, I never again made the mistake of asking a woman obviously in advanced stages of pregnancy if it was her first appointment!

(I am 13 when I get into a car accident with my grandmother and sister. I get horrendous back pain and whiplash after a man decides it is a great idea to open his car door onto the road. I can’t bend down, and eventually, my mum takes me to the local walk-in health centre. We wait for over an hour to see someone and eventually we are taken through to see the nurse. She is a young girl but seems to know what she is doing, so when she asks me to take a urine test, I don’t know any better and provide one for her. A few minutes later she comes back into the room and speaks to my mum.)

Nurse: “Well, she isn’t pregnant.”

(I just stare at her for a moment, trying to understand what she is saying. I am a 13-year-old girl and don’t honestly know much about sex, never mind being pregnant. My mum’s mouth gapes open for a few seconds, flapping like a fish.)

Mum: “What?! I know she’s not pregnant. She was in a car crash and is suffering from pain in her back.”

(The nurse suddenly comes over in realisation of what she has said.)

Nurse: “I’m so sorry; I didn’t realise how old she was.”

Mum: “What do you mean, you didn’t realise? She’s 13 years old! Oh, my God, I can’t believe you just came to that conclusion with her back pain. I even explained to you what the problem was and you still assumed a young, smart girl like her would be so f****** stupid?!”

(I shrank away as my mum’s voice rose over the sound of the curtains, the nurse practically cowering in the corner, and before long my mum was demanding to see another nurse. I will never forget the look of horror on that woman’s face. I’m 25 now and pretty sure I’m still not pregnant. Back pain is gone, though.)

(My first job out of college is working as a front desk/helpdesk engineer for a third-party IT company. For some reason, my boss can’t remember my name.)

Boss: “Heidi, can you come in here for a minute?”

(My name is not Heidi or anything close to it. In fact, my name starts with a C. I am the only female who works at the company at the moment, so I get up and walk into his office with a frown.)

Me: “Um, were you looking for me?”

Boss: “Of course. I called for you.”

Me: “Yeah, but, uh… My name isn’t Heidi.”

Boss: *hesitates* “Are you sure?”

Me: “Well, if it is, then the last twenty-some-odd years I’ve been using the wrong one.”

Boss: *laughs* “Right, makes sense. So—“

(He went into what he’d wanted to ask me. Afterward, he still called me Heidi and I corrected him a few times, and then I realized he was doing it on purpose because he thought he was being funny. I’d mostly yell back, “Not Heidi!” while doing whatever he’d asked. It would be funny when we got new techs because they’d always get these really confused looks on their faces as I’d get up, and they’d lean over and ask, “Who the f*** is Heidi?”)