Insults Are Free!

, , , , , , | Healthy | May 8, 2019

I am a relatively new veterinarian. Often, we will get a case come in as ADR — Ain’t Doing Right — which is to say they are acting a bit off, but not always obvious what is wrong. I have an ADR older golden retriever come in with Mom and Son. They give the history: the dog has been losing weight, not eating well, lethargic, and having dark stools for a few weeks. This dog also has a history of ear problems. The last time we saw the dog was over two years ago. They have limited funds, so I try to work on a step-by-step diagnostic to try to get the most information before determining if more diagnostics are needed.

Starting with the physical exam: the dog is severely muscle wasted, lethargic — as they said — and dehydrated, and he has a new heart murmur. After discussing with Mom, we decide to start with bloodwork. It comes up with some very mild liver changes, but nothing too noteworthy. We are at the upper point of their budget, so I discuss my next recommendation of chest x-rays and what we would do depending on what we found, quoting them the costs for everything before anything is performed. They agree to the x-rays, and unfortunately, the x-rays show possible heart enlargement, but again nothing too exciting. So, they agree to try a heart medication, subcutaneous fluids, and an anti-emetic and see how the dog responds. It’s worth noting there were additional tests I would have liked to do, but I didn’t want to stretch their budget too much further.

A few days later, the dog isn’t improving on the heart meds, so I recommend an abdominal ultrasound — at a different vet — to better evaluate the gastrointestinal tract and surrounding organs. Unfortunately, the ultrasound looks like liver cancer, which I am very surprised by given how mild the blood work was.

I receive a request to contact the Father when I return to work the day after the ultrasound. I give him a call back, assuming he wants to discuss further treatment and prognosis. Boy, was I wrong.

Turns out he just wants to spend ten minutes telling me I am a crook, only in it for the money, and don’t care about animals. He continues to tell me that I took advantage of his wife and his upset son, and had them spend more money than they were willing. He rails that the dog was coming in for an ear infection, and I had them do a bunch of unnecessary tests. Any time I try to interject, either to explain my findings and recommendations as he wasn’t there, or to confirm what he thinks happened at the appointment, he simply talks over me, stating he doesn’t care what justifications I have and that “[he] is onto [my] game.” It continues until I am crying against the wall and finally have permission from the practice owner to hang up on him.

The fun part: he calls right back to have my receptionist tell me I am an a**hole. I still have to talk to his (much nicer) wife to answer her questions, and I almost can’t bring myself to do it. As of now, I refuse to discuss anything further with the Father.

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Unfiltered Story #149608

, , , | Unfiltered | May 8, 2019

(I’m with my sister at her favorite clothing store. I’m sitting in one of the chairs outside the changing room while she is trying on clothes. I turn my attention to the 2 female cashiers at the front of the store, one of which I’ve had my eye on ever since I walked in. There is also a female customer, only customer in line, who looks like she is well into her 70s.)

Customer: “Could you hurry it up? I’m in a rush.”

Cute cashier: “Sure thing, ma’am. That’ll be $55.72.”

Customer: “What?! You’re catalog says this dress is 50% off. How could it be at full price?”

Cute cashier: “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to add the discount. I apologize.”

Customer: “You can’t be ugly AND dumb. Pick one.”

(The other cashier and I are taken aback by the customer’s comment. The cute cashier pauses for a moment and looks down like she is embarassed.)

Other cashier: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “I wasn’t talking to you. And if you must know, I said…”

Other cashier: “No I heard you, but why would you say something like that?”

Customer: “For starters, I can say whatever the f*** I want. Also, it’s true. Just look at her.”

(The cute cashier, still looking down, starts crying.)

Customer: “Why are you crying? You know it’s true.”

Other cashier: “O.K. ma’am. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “Why? I’m only telling the truth. Anyone would agree with me. Excuse me, young man.”

(I see the old lady pointing at me)

Customer: “Isn’t this the ugliest and dumbest girl you’ve ever seen?”

(I see the old lady smiling at me expecting me to agree with her. The other cashier looks at me with her arms folded. The cute cashier, still looking down, is crying even more, trying to wipe her tears away.)

Me: “Well ma’am, she made a honest mistake so you don’t have to call her dumb. Also, I see you left your glasses at home, because she is gorgeous.”

(The old lady’s jaw dropped, surprised that I said that. The other cashier unfolds her arms. The cute cashier finally looks up.)

Customer: “Are you serious?”

(I start walking over)

Me: “Yes I am. It’s also wrong to insult someone who hasn’t done anything to you. Now I believe this woman asked you to leave.”

(The other cashier gives the old lady a look that says “You heard him.” The old lady leaves without her dress and a sour look on her face. The cute cashier taps me on my back.)

Cute cashier: “Did you really mean what you said?”

Me: “Yes I did.”

(Since there isn’t anyone else in line, the cute cashier and I start talking. I find out she has low self-esteem and couldn’t stand up for herself because she began to believe the horrible things the old lady said.)

Me: “You’re far from ugly and dumb.”

(My sister finally comes out the changing room and pays for her clothes. We’re both start walking out.)

Cute cashier: “Hey, wait!”

(I turn around and walk back over to the counter. She starts writing down her number. I notice her and the other cashier start smiling. I start smiling as I walk out. My sister with a confused face, looks to me.)

My sister: “Mind filling me in?”

(BTW, the cute cashier and I have a date next week!)

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Something Cagey About Your Friend

, , , , , , | Friendly | May 1, 2019

(My best friend in college is ADDICTED to hamsters and doesn’t deny it; she blames it on an incident in her childhood where she accidentally squeezed a hamster to death. She owns five or more at a time and buys the biggest, most elaborate cages and miles and miles of tubes for them. She insists they like variety, but switching out some tubes isn’t enough; she has to have enough tubes so that EVERY tube in each setup is different than those used in all other setups! She isn’t supposed to have this stuff on campus, but it is an open secret that many students have forbidden pets in their rooms — I suspect because it is an agricultural school. I am helping her load her car up for a visit to her hometown. We’ve just finished filling literally every inch of the car except for the driver’s seat with hamster cages and supplies when she asks:)

Friend: “Hey, why don’t you come with me?”

Me: *laughing because I’m sure she must be joking* “Your car is completely filled with hamster cages. Where am I supposed to sit, the roof?”

Friend: “Of course not; there’s room in the trunk.”

(I burst out laughing even harder, but the transformation I see come over her face as it cycles through confusion, realization, and embarrassment makes me realize she wasn’t joking.)

Friend: “I meant that we could move some of the cages into the trunk!”

(She’d just made a poor — but hilarious — choice of words. Okay, so she was not guilty of saying hamsters deserved to ride on the seats while people had to settle for riding in the trunk. Another time, we are getting into her car to go to the movies. I’ve just climbed into the front passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt when I notice a HUGE cardboard box on the backseat.)

Me: *groaning*Please don’t tell me that’s another new hamster cage.”

Friend: *completely matter-of-fact, nonchalant, and sincere, with no hint of sarcasm or humor* “Of course not. That’s just the bottom half.”

(Fortunately, getting a Lhasa Poo she could lavish all her love and attention on after graduation enabled her to kick that habit.)

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Give Them An Inch And They’ll Ask For A Meter

, , , , | Right | April 13, 2019

(I work in a small comic book shop that is on a street that has metered street parking. I am doing my usual daily routine and a car parks outside of the store. Time passes and the meter officer comes around and sees that their meter is expired, waits a moment, and then proceeds to write them a ticket. These are all normal things that happen in this area because people either run out of time or don’t put money in it at all, so I think nothing of it. Then the family comes back, puts their child in the back seat, and then sees their ticket. I look up because the lady is now freaking out at her husband about how they got a ticket. They enter my store.)

Female Customer: “Why did you guys give me a ticket?! I paid!”

(I stare at her for a moment in pure confusion.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t have anything to do with the tickets.”

Female Customer: “We parked right outside your store and had paid the meter behind us! We paid! Take back the ticket!”

Male Customer: “We just made a mistake and paid the wrong meter; there must be something you can do.”

(I’m still massively bewildered that they are coming to me. The woman is angry and yelling at me while the man tries to nicely ask for help.)

Me: “Um… That sucks, but I have nothing to do with the ticket or giving tickets or anything with parking. I just work at this store.”

Female Customer: “Yes! So, you can get rid of the ticket! We were outside your store!”

Me: “I don’t control the parking outside of my store; you’d have to call the number on the meter to try to get help or fight against your ticket.”

Female Customer:What?! Why do I have to call someone! You’re right here!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I seriously have nothing to do with any of the meters or ticketing. I just work at this shop…”

Male Customer: “So, you can’t help us?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, but there’s a number on the meter.”


Me: “No.”

(Then, in the angriest huff I think she could manage, she pulled her husband out and started yelling more outside my store about how I was no help at all and that this area is ridiculous with our ticketing laws. Then, they drove off after almost hitting an oncoming car. Sometimes, I don’t understand how people don’t understand.)

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He’s Been Hood-Winked

, , , , | Right | April 9, 2019

(I’m stocking shelves at the high-end grocery store where I work. There’s a display of items for local high schools for back-to-school, topped with a bust form wearing a hooded sweatshirt. A well-dressed man in his 40s with a local, upper-class accent taps me on the shoulder and points at the bust form.)

Man: “Can you tell me what this is?”

Me: “That’s the mascot for the local high school on the front.”

Man: “No, not on the shirt. This! All this extra fabric!”

(He pinches the hood of the shirt.)

Me: “Oh, that’s the hood, sir.”

Man: “The what?”

Me: “The hood for the sweatshirt. A hood, like goes over your head.”

(I flip the hood up on the shirt to demonstrate. The man walks around the bust form, looking confused.)

Man: “But how would you see? You’d be blind.”

Me: “No, it’s open in the front, sir. It’s just droopy like that because the mannequin has no head. It just goes over your head.”

(The man still looks confused, so I grab a sweatshirt off the pile, pull it on, and put the hood up. He looks at me, confused, then pulls the hood down and back up on me several times.)

Man: “Why would I want this? I don’t understand. Explain this to me.”

Me: “Well, some people just like the way they look. They keep your head warm and they can keep you dry. Right now some people are wearing things with hoods because it is raining.”

(I gesture towards the checkout, where several customers are wearing hooded raincoats. The man looks at them with a look of shock, then shakes his head and walks away. I later see him standing in line at checkout, and he is staring with anger at a mother and child who both have hooded raincoats on. He sees me and steps out of line to come over to me.)

Man: “You can wear a hat.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Man: “You can wear a hat to keep warm or keep dry.”

Me: “Yes, sir, you can.”

Man: “You should.”

Me: “Okay, sir.”

Man: “Wear a hat, not a… er, ‘hood.’”

Me: “Okay, sir.”

(I have no idea how the man made it to his age without ever having experienced any garments with hoods. Especially during cold winters!)

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