CPRoni Pizza
I am a doctor, working in an emergency ward. I had just finished an intense, fourteen-hour shift (this was not normal but very necessary that day for non-story-relevant reasons). It was the toughest of five gruelling shifts in a row, but now I would have six days off as compensation.
It was quite late, so my girlfriend picked me up, and we headed to a pizza restaurant to celebrate my freedom with a million calories and to get me some very overdue dinner. Granola bars can only sustain a man for so long, and there wasn’t time for me to sit down and have a proper meal during my shift.
We ordered, sat down, and waited. The waitress bringing the food to us suddenly collapsed like a rag doll, unnaturally limp in all limbs. I immediately sprang into Work Mode and rushed over.
She had no pulse and wasn’t breathing, so I started doing CPR and barking orders. I ordered a waiter to call 112 (Swedish 911), I called that I needed another person who knew CPR to assist, got a volunteer to get a defibrillator, called to one random guest to stand outside and look for the ambulance; the usual stuff, and everyone followed along well.
A volunteer and I successfully resuscitated the poor waitress just as the ambulance arrived. She was driven off to the hospital, conscious but in pain and very confused. The manager was beyond himself, thanking me for saving her and wanted to reward me. I insisted that I needed no reward, so the manager gave free food to everyone who helped, including me. I slumped back down into my chair, waiting for the second round of food to be made.
This should have been the end of the story, if not for a woman at the table next to me, who cleared her throat at me after a few minutes:
Woman: “Excuse me?”
Me: “Yes?”
Woman: “You are very rude!”
Me: “Sorry?!”
Woman: “You heard me. You are very rude!”
Me: “I heard you, but… I don’t understand.”
Woman: “You were very rude when you were telling people what to do! Who gave you the right to bark orders like a madman? And that was very masculine of you! That is misogynistic of you!”
Me: *Long silence.* “Okay.”
Woman: “I don’t think you understand me! You were very rude!”
Me: “I see.”
Woman: “You shouldn’t do things like that!”
Me: “Uh-huh.”
Woman: “I… You should never act like that again!”
Me: “Okay.”
Woman: “You don’t mean that! Are you deaf? Huh?”
She snaps her fingers in my face.
Woman: “Anyone home? Helloooo?”
My patience runs out.
Me: “Look, lady, I don’t care what you think. She needed help; I am a doctor, and her life was at stake. If you think I am rude for prioritizing saving lives over your feelings, then you are allowed to think so. I will not change my behavior during emergencies just because your feelings may be hurt. If you or your loved ones ever need to come to the ER, I will treat you and help you with every ounce of my skill and care, even if that entails being rude and breaking social norms. Now, could you stop being incredibly rude to me and please, by the name of the great Asclepius, stop bothering me? I haven’t eaten a proper meal since breakfast hours.”
Woman: *Squeaks.* “Being hungry isn’t an excuse to be rude.”
Me: “Okay.”
She fell quiet, and I zoned out, waiting for my food. My girlfriend told me that she seethed and glared at me until my pizza came into view, the sacred disc of deliciousness being served by the manager.
Just as I cut into my pizza to take my first bite, she spat in her soda and poured it over my pizza, ruining my second dinner for that day. She then quickly ran out of the restaurant, yelling:
Woman: “That will teach you to be rude!”
The manager ran after her to the door and started yelling after her in his slightly broken Swedish:
Manager: “Get out! Get out of my restaurant and never return! Come back at never o’clock! You are banned! Banned! Banned!”
He then turned to me with an exaggerated bow:
Manager: “My deepest apology. You help me twice tonight, but I have yet to help you. You save [Waitress] life, and you give me reason to ban that evil one forever! I shall now give you discount until end of time! If you say no, I shall restrain you and give you food until you fat and happy.”
Me: “Is that a promise or a threat?”
Manager: “Yes!”
Me: “I see. Then I accept your discount. Can I please just get food now? No more emergencies or surprises. Please.”
I got a plate of fresh fries to munch on before my third and final pizza arrived. The pizza might have been the single most tasty thing I have ever eaten.
That place is our primary pizza place now, because of my (slight) discount, the great food, and the nice staff. The waitress was perfectly fine in the end and is now working there again; her condition was temporary.
The manager got a defibrillator for the restaurant and everyone that works there gets a basic CPR course, just in case something happens. The restaurant weirdly seems to be fully staffed at all times, as if they have low turnover and an easy time recruiting.
And know your CPR. It is really, really useful to know in an emergency. You never know when you might need it.
