I’m working the overnight obstetric bleep, meaning if any pregnant person in the hospital has an emergency, it goes straight to me. Naturally, it can get quite busy, but not always for the right reasons – people clap eyes on a pregnant person and lose all clinical judgement. I had these three scenarios happen in one night.

Scenario #1:

Me: “Hi, obstetric registrar. I got bleeped?”

A&E Doctor: “Hi, can you come and take a look at this lady in A&E? She’s got a broken arm.”

Me: “…this is the obstetric registrar?”

A&E Doctor: “Yeah, she’s pregnant. Can you tell us what to do?”

Me: “…put it in a cast?”

Scenario #2:

Me: “Hi, obstetric registrar. I got bleeped?”

A&E Doctor: “Hi, can you come and take a look at this lady in A&E? She’s got some abdominal pain.”

Me: “Okay, what’s the pain like?”

A&E Doctor: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Is she bleeding?”

A&E Doctor: “I don’t know, I didn’t ask.”

Me: “Have you examined her abdomen?”

A&E Doctor: “Isn’t that your job?”

Me: “…take a full history and examine the patient, now. I will be having a word with your senior when I get there.”

It turned out she was in premature labour.

Scenario #3:

Me: “Hi, obstetric registrar. I got bleeped?”

Respiratory Doctor: “Hi, can you come and take a look at this lady on the ward? Her blood pressure’s really high.”

Me: *Starting to worry about pre-eclampsia.* “How high?”

Respiratory Doctor: “135/95.”

For reference, normal is 120/80. This is barely raised.

Me: *Internally groaning.* “I’m sure she’s fine, but I’ll come and have a look.”

She was fine and met her on the wards about a month later with a lovely baby girl.

I work in a community recreation centre. I’m manning the front desk with my manager, who is working her last day. A woman approaches with a reusable water bottle and starts speaking to the manager with a sour tone.

Customer: “Excuse me, I just tried the water fountain near the yoga room and the water tastes… metallic.”

Manager: “Oh, yeah, that one’s connected to the older plumbing line. Still safe to drink, just not filtered like the bottle-filling station over here.”

Customer: “Well, that’s not acceptable. I shouldn’t have to hunt for decent water in a facility I pay for!”

Manager: “We do recommend using the filling stations, especially since they’re filtered and chilled.”

Customer: “Then why even have that nasty one working? You should shut it down if it’s not perfect.”

Manager: “We keep it for emergencies or if the others are in use.”

Customer: “It’s just lazy.”

She gestures to her spotless, logo-covered stainless steel bottle.

Manager: “Looks like you survived the ordeal. Let me know if you need a medal or a refill.”

Got to love a last-day comment with no consequences!

It’s one of the first very hot days of summer. For reference, England isn’t set up for heat—any building constructed more than a few years ago is built to keep the heat in, not disperse it, and air conditioning is rare. 

While shopping, I pop into a corner shop to grab a drink and a snack. It’s hotter inside the shop than it is outside, and the shopkeeper looks miserable. I choose a packet of crisps which costs £1.25 and a drink that costs £1.75 and place them on the counter. The shopkeeper puts the price into the card reader manually and turns it towards me, as I already have my card in my hand.

Shopkeeper: “That’s £2, please, mate.”

Me: *As I tap my card, I realise that doesn’t sound right.* “Hang on, £2? Isn’t it supposed to be £3?”

Shopkeeper: *Stares at me for a long moment.* “Christ, you’re right. I think my brain has melted.”

He presses some buttons on the card reader, and I tap my card again to pay the extra pound.

Shopkeeper: “Thank you, most people would have kept quiet.”

Me: “No worries, man, I know how hard it is for everyone these days. Have a drink of water or something, yeah?”

And that was that. No one clapped, he didn’t fall at my feet in awe of my honesty or offer me something for free. He probably won’t even remember me by the next time I go in there. But I got a nice feeling out of being honest, he got what he was owed, and we shared a moment of commiseration over shared frustration with the weather. What could be more British than that?

I work in a watch repair kiosk inside a train station. An older gentleman approaches, holding a clearly cheap, plastic watch. It’s lost its wrist straps so it’s just the watch face by itself.

Customer: “This used to be my brother’s. Keeps stopping. Can you fix it?”

Me: “I can take a look, but sometimes it costs more to fix these than replace them.”

Customer: “No, I don’t want to replace it. I just want it to tick again. It’s sentimental.”

That part’s fair. I nod and open the back. There’s a corroded battery welded into the contacts like it’s fossilized. I show him.

Me: “This battery probably hasn’t been changed in over a decade. It’s leaked into the movement—”

Customer: “—Oh, don’t give me the sales pitch. I’m not stupid. Just put a new battery in.”

Me: “It’s not about the battery. The acid ruined the internals. It’s basically a paperweight now.”

Customer: “You people always say that so we’ll buy a new one. I know how this works. You just want a sale.”

He storms off. A few minutes later, I hear someone trying to jam something into the coin slot of the coffee machine behind me.

It’s the same man.

It’s his watch.

Me: “That machine might give you change, but it won’t change reality.”

He stops, shocked that I’ve been able to poke my head around and see what he’s doing.

Customer: “You’re f****** useless! This watch is f****** useless!” *Kicks the coffee machine.* “This is f****** useless! My brother is f****** useless! Everything is f****** useless!”

He throws the watch to floor, and storms off. I guess he’s going through a bad… time. (Sorry.)

We have a young new guy serving his mechanical apprenticeship at our dealership. He was writing his report on a vehicle he’d just fitted a new clutch on. I could see he was suddenly very agitated and annoyed.

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Apprentice: “That car I just did the clutch on. It’s just been picked up by the customer.”

Me: “Yeah, and?”

Apprentice: *Pointing to a tick box question on the form.* “Well, I can’t remember if it was an auto or a manual.”