(There are four people in my office. [Coworker #1] spent more than a month in Turkey on a work assignment and has just returned. He brought a couple of flannel rags, of the kind you get in gas stations, brightly printed with company logos and advertisements in Turkish. [Coworker #2], famous for not always being in the loop, notices the rags while [Coworker #1] is out on errands.)

Coworker #2: “What’s written on these things?”

Me: “I don’t know; I don’t speak Turkish.”

Coworker #2: *looking at me like I said something funny* “Then how do you know it’s Turkish?”

Me: *unsure if he’s having me on* “Um, because that’s what they speak in Turkey. “

Coworker #2: “Why? Has anybody been to Turkey?”

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

(I’ve suffered from cold sores for about six years, and normally I only get two or three a year. Over the last six months, I have had them repeatedly, one after the other, so I decide to go to my doctor. I make an appointment, but I have to wait three weeks for it — this is a pretty normal wait time for an appointment in my area.)

Me: “I read on the NHS website that if cold sores get this bad and persistent, there’s a medication that can help to treat it.”

Doctor #1: “Why do you think you need a prescription medicine? That’s pretty drastic.”

Me: “I’ve had non-stop cold sores for six months, and that isn’t normal. The creams from the pharmacy aren’t working.”

Doctor #1: “Yes, but lots of things cause cold sores. Sunlight, poor diet, being on your period.”

Me: “Well, I haven’t been on my period for six straight months! My diet hasn’t changed, and it’s winter, so I haven’t been in the sun.”

Doctor #1: “It could be a response to an infection. I’ll send you for a blood test, but I don’t want to give you tablets for something so minor.”

(It takes a week to get the paperwork for the blood test — it has to be done at the hospital — a week for me to be able to get my blood tested, and another week before the results come back. I then have to wait another two weeks to see my doctor to discuss the results.)

Doctor #1: “Your tests showed elevated white blood cells, which is a sign of infection. But I think it’s a false positive, so I’ll send you for another blood test.”

Me: “What makes you think it’s false? You said it could be an infection.”

Doctor #1: “Well, I think you did have an infection, but it’s gone now. I’ll send you for another one and compare the results.”

(Cue ANOTHER TWO weeks of waiting for the blood test and test results.)

Receptionist: “The doctor says your blood test came back normal and he doesn’t need to see you. He says there’s nothing he can do.”

Me: “What?! That’s not right! He hasn’t done anything!”

Receptionist: *quietly speaking to me* “I recommend you see another doctor. They can look at your results and you can get a second opinion.”

(I have to wait ANOTHER THREE weeks to see a second doctor, so by this time it’s been more than eight months of cold sores.)

Doctor #2: “”You’ve had cold sores for EIGHT MONTHS?!”

Me: “It’s been Hell; I’ve had either a sore, a scab, or a scar on my face this whole time. The creams aren’t working, I’ve tried every home remedy on Google, and I don’t know what else to do.”

Doctor #2: “It could be a sign of something serious, but it could be nothing. Let’s have a look at your test results… Are you taking iron?”

Me: “No, why?”

Doctor #2: “Didn’t the other doctor say anything about your iron levels?!”

Me: “He said my blood was normal.”

Doctor #2: “It’s most certainly not normal! You have extremely low iron levels, in both sets of results. There’s a proven link between low iron and mouth sores. You just need to take an iron supplement. And I’ll give you a prescription for the cold sores, so they’ll clear up in a week or less. Your white blood cell count is still up, so I think you may need antibiotics, too.”

(Since I’ve been taking iron, I hardly have cold sores at all. And my infection cleared up, but the doctor said if it hadn’t, it could have developed into sepsis, which can be fatal. Now, whenever I make a doctor’s appointment I specifically say, “Any doctor other than [Doctor #1],” and from what the receptionist has since told me, lots of patients do the same.)

(Guns come with different size barrels, or calibers. You have to buy the right size bullet for your gun’s dimensions in order to fire it. I am waiting for an associate to check something for me when the shop phone rings. Another associate picks it up, and everyone in earshot overhears his side of the conversation.)

Associate: *after listening for a moment* “No, sir, I apologize, but we do not accept returns on ammunition.” *pause* “I understand, but we can’t resell it because we can’t guarantee what was done to it after it left the shop.” *pause* “Right. Yes, sir, and I’m sorry for the inconvenience. But if you’d like to come back in, we can help you find the right kind.”

(There is another pause and then he hangs up.)

Associate: *to coworker* “Guy didn’t check which caliber he needed before he bought his ammo. He’s coming back, just a heads up.”

(The associate helping me came back and we went to another part of the store together. Once I finished, I passed back by the front counter, where a customer was arguing with the associate over returning the ammo he had purchased earlier in the day. The poor associate was trying to explain the store policy — pretty much the same as everywhere you could buy ammo — while the customer yelled at him. The kicker? When I went to push open the only entrance and exit door, I was face to face with a three-foot stop sign sticker that said, “All ammo sales are final!” in giant letters!)

(It’s Easter Sunday. My parents, my grandmother, and I are coming back from an early dinner out at an uptown restaurant and we stop to pick up some prescriptions for my grandmother at an old pharmacy where the restroom is in the back room. This exchange occurs just as I exit the back room after using the restroom.)

Customer: “Excuse me. I’m looking for [Specific Allergy Brand], but I can’t find it, and this is the allergy aisle. Would it be anywhere else?”

Me: “I have no idea, sorry. Um, good luck.”

(The customer muttered something under her breath that I couldn’t hear as I was walking away. During this exchange I was wearing a cocktail dress and heels, and she looked right at me as she was asking her question.)

(At this time, I am working at fast food place known for its ice cream. We are in the middle of a popular promotion where if you buy one of our signature products, you get the second one for 99 cents. There are several signs all over the store, including one sitting on the register. A man comes in with his wife and two younger children. It happens to be Easter Sunday.)

Me: *smiling* “Hi! Welcome to [Restaurant]. What can I get you?”

(The man is pleasant enough, and orders food for his family, as well as one of our signature products for himself. I’m about to ask him if he wants the 99 cent one, but he looks right at the promotional sign on our register, appears to read it, then goes back to ordering. The little boy’s meal doesn’t come with a drink, so I ask what he wants to drink.)

Customer: *ignores his son, who is asking for pop* “He’ll just have water.”

(I hand him one of our free water cups. We rely on customers being honest and generally don’t have an issue with them trying to get free drinks out of us by taking a water cup and getting pop instead. Apparently, the boy has no issues with it and immediately fills it up with pop. I wince, because though he’s technically stealing, I’m not allowed to say anything about it. I wait for the dad to reprimand him. He doesn’t, so I reluctantly let it go. As he’s paying…)

Customer: *as he hands me his money* “Today is such a good day.”

Me: *nods absently as I count out his change* “Yup, the weather is really nice today.”

Customer: “Oh, no, today is a good day because it’s the day Christ rose for us after dying for our sins!”

(Not being particularly religious, I simply smile politely and finish handing out his change, and he sits down. When he comes up to the counter a few minutes later for his food, he notices the promotional signs.)

Customer: “Oh! I didn’t notice that earlier. Could I get my second one now?”

Me: “I’m so sorry, sir, but by our policy, you have to buy both during the same transaction to get the promotional offer.”

Customer: *frowning* “But you know I already bought one.”

Me: *smiling apologetically* “I know it seems silly, but even if you haven’t left the store, I have to follow policy. The owners are pretty strict about being consistent. I’m really sorry.”

(The man stands there for a minute, looking at the signs on the menu, then looks back to me smiling.)

Customer: “I think Jesus would want you to give me the 99 cent [Item].”

Me: *taken off guard* “I… I’m sorry, sir, but I still can’t break policy.”

Customer: *shrugs and starts to take his food back to his seat* “Well, Jesus loves you, anyway!”

(The man and his family finished their meals without incident, but I have to say, that was the first time I’d ever had anyone use Jesus as a way to get around a policy, and after letting their child steal!)

Related
What Would Jesus Discount?, Part 4
What Would Jesus Discount?, Part 3
What Would Jesus Discount?, Part 2

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