After about a decade of trying to get my family doctor to take me seriously, that my menstrual periods were/are a bloody nightmare (pun fully intended), finally, and honestly, probably just to shut me up. He decides that if I “just” get an IUD, all my problems will go away. Right? Sure, okay.

I actually did not want an IUD for several reasons, none of which he listened to, but whatever. I booked the day off, my sister drove me so we could also do lunch afterwards, and we set off to the “specialty fertility clinic” that my doctor had booked my appointment to, mostly because I’d hoped that, even if I wasn’t going to have an IUD placed, perhaps this new doctor could give me some different/better help besides, “Oh, just take an Advil if you have cramps.” (An Advil? Singular? Lol, that’s cute.) This new doctor? Was not helpful. At all.

First red flag? I showed up about fifteen minutes before my scheduled appointment time, and they could not find my referral. I show my ID, I give them my family doctor’s name, and it still takes two separate people to find my name, apparently buried in their system. I’m told that I will be having an ultrasound, and to make sure my bladder is full. Okay, no problem. I refill my water bottle, chug it, sit, and wait.

And wait.

My appointment time is a distant memory. Then, I’m called back for the ultrasound, and Things Get Wonky.

I’m ushered into a room, and am told by someone (a tech? a nurse? who knows, because they did not say a single word of greeting or introduction to me) to strip down so they can do my ultrasound. There are no robes or sheets provided, or even nearby on a shelf anywhere in this room.

I try to ask a few questions, but there are a few people coming in and out of this semi-darkened room, and [Anonymous Woman] is more interested in chatting with them than answering me. They get angry with me for having a full bladder because they were actually planning on doing an internal ultrasound. They don’t listen when I tell them I was told at their own front desk to chug water. They send me to the bathroom, and when I return, they do finally listen to me, but the answers I give irritate them further, because now it turns out that they can’t do the internal ultrasound, just the regular on-the-belly kind. But I’ve just been to the bathroom, so now [Anonymous Woman] rolls her eyes and gets me to drink a literal pitcher full of water again.

I am hydrated. I am annoyed. I am physically uncomfortable. My sister sends me a text, jokingly asking if they’re just sterilizing me now, because at this point, I’ve been in here for no joke, two and a half hours. I text her back, and then, finally, the ultrasound must be finished, because [Anonymous Woman] stands up and tells me to follow her, leaving the room while I’m still buttoning my jeans.

After all that, I’m left in the doctor’s actual office for about ten minutes, where honestly, I had a good little cry, because what the f*** is going on here?! The doctor walks in, asks me some questions and literally does not actually listen to a single one of my answers (which Very Much Include not wanting an IUD, and also not being able to afford one because I only have our regular, provincially-covered health insurance), because the last thing he says to me as he’s standing up to leave the room is, “Okay, well, here’s the prescription for the IUD, you can pick it up from your local pharmacy, then call us back to set up the placement appointment.”

Out of curiosity, I later took that script to find out how much it would cost me, and it was exactly $404. Out of pocket.

On the way out, I stop at the reception desk, wanting to tell them thanks but no thanks, I won’t be having anything else to do with this office, and generally needing to get the hell out of there. The receptionist handed me a plain prescription bottle with two small tablets in it and instructed me to “take them an hour before you come back for your next appointment.” There was a label on the bottle with the name of the medication and tablet strength, but absolutely zero instructions or any personal info whatsoever. They hadn’t even typed my name on it.

When I get back in the car, my sister takes one look at me, wisely decides not to crack any jokes, and instead asks me about the pills. Three Google searches later, we find out that the pills I’d been given were medications meant to soften the cervix before having the IUD placed. If I’d just swallowed them, the most likely side effects were, essentially, internal bleeding from holes being made in body parts that aren’t supposed to have extra holes in them. Like your stomach, or one of your intestines.

I took those pills to my local pharmacy for safe disposal, called that specialist back to cancel the appointment they had already booked without my approval, and tried to forget about the whole miserable time.

Twelve years later: an ER visit, four appointments with a Nurse Practitioner who I’ve come to adore, three proper, non-traumatic ultrasounds, and one MRI later, I got a consult with a surgeon who took one look at me, asked to gently prod a few spots, and confirmed that this isn’t just my period being “heavy” but is, in fact, a giant fibroid that’s basically taking over a large percentage of my abdomen. I’m due for a near-total hysterectomy in a few months, and while I’m nervous about it, I’m definitely looking forward to not having to deal with all this nonsense!

I’m a librarian. I work in a library. We have a lot of cool stuff to look at, and we love to give people tours, but 99% of what we have is books. When someone comes in and has a great time, it really makes our day, but that doesn’t mean we don’t also get people who walk in and bark, “What is this? I don’t like it.”

We had one visitor a couple of weeks ago who looked around the library in awe and told me, “You know, this place could be so nice if it weren’t for all these books! No one cares about all this old stuff.”

Yes, he walked into a LIBRARY to tell me to get rid of the books. He called back later that day, disappointed that he didn’t have a direct line, with some more ideas about how to get rid of everything. 

He was also full of suggestions about other institutions he’d visited, and he just couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t get a reply from them when he wrote. It takes a certain kind of person to walk into someone else’s workplace and tell them how to do their job. A lot of people don’t realise, but you need a master’s degree to be a librarian, archivist, or curator. When this guy spoke to our intern and found out she’s currently in library school, he said, “Oh, you can go to school for that?” Yes, mate. Yes, you can.

I thought we’d seen the last of him, but to my horror, he came back the next week. This time, he asked about a very specific subject, and as it happened, we have a book about exactly that. I thought I finally had something that would make him happy. I brought him the book, and as he was leafing through it, he mused, “This kind of thing really doesn’t interest me.”

Some days you just can’t win. 

I’m walking out of a store to my car out front. There is an SUV with two people waiting in the back seat. One appears to be an adult woman reading a magazine, and the other is a little girl of about nine years old. The girl is staring out the open side window and… seems to be daring herself to flip off strangers.

I notice it as I walk to my car. I think I see the child flipping me off in the corner of my eye. I turn my head and look at her, and she’s just sitting there watching me. So, I turn my attention to my car and then snap my head back at her. I caught her that time. I’m looking directly at her while she’s giving me the finger. She quickly puts down her hand, but I know what I saw.

I’m shaking my head and laughing at the situation as I get into my car. The girl has nervously sunk down in her seat, so only the part of her head from her eyes up is visible. She’s clearly watching me, worried I’ll get her in trouble.

Still laughing, I roll down my window and tell her, “Yep, I saw that.”

The girl then slid down lower until she was completely hidden from me.

Boredom and a young mind are a dangerous mix.

In the large electronics store I worked at, we would always offer insurance on most things, especially things that could break if handled incorrectly, such as Wii remotes, TVs, computers, and more.

So, in comes this customer who wants to buy a big flat screen TV. We show him the TV, and he buys it, and we send him to the pickup desk while a colleague wheels it out there from the warehouse.

We did offer him insurance, but no, he very vehemently refuses.

We hand over the large box and ask if he needs help getting it out to his car.

No, he’s fine, he will carry it himself.

On his way across the parking lot, we watch him drop the box hard, swear to himself, and open the box when he gets to his car.

A few minutes later, he comes into the store again, asking if it’s too late to buy that insurance.

We tell him that “Unfortunately,” it is.

And then we steel ourselves for the tirade we are expecting.

But no, he sighs, brings out his credit card and says, same TV, but with insurance.

I did check later in the week if he had tried the return switch, but we never saw him again.

I have been having a rash of company reps for roofing, solar, security, etc., ringing my doorbell. When I answer and see what they’re bothering me for, I ask if they saw my (prominently displayed) yard sign saying “no soliciting”.

They typically come back with “well, we’re not actually soliciting; we’re providing information.”

I recently spent the $50 to get a smart control for my front yard spigot and have been leaving my yard sprinklers attached. Now, when they ring the bell, I have the app open and primed, and my finger on the “go” button before I open the door.

The joy of watching them run when the water starts is almost worth my dogs barking like crazy and being interrupted. I also started parking the car closest to my porch right on the edge of the drive/entry sidewalk, so there’s no quick and easy escape path.