Regular: “I want [complicated coffee order] with sixteen pumps of hazelnut syrup.”

Yes. Sixteen. We know his order and have it memorized at this point. We hand it to him, and he takes a sip.

Regular: “Hmm. It feels like it’s less than sixteen.”

Me: “You watched me physically pump in sixteen pumps, sir.”

Regular: “You didn’t pump hard enough! Make it again!” 

He was miserable. He came in every day and never tipped. During a huge snowstorm, his car got stuck in the drive-thru. I went outside and pushed his car out of the drive-thru, and he still didn’t tip.

One very hot summer afternoon, I was driving south on a major interstate highway. About forty miles from home, ten miles from the intersection with another interstate, I saw a car with flashers on, and a few hundred yards beyond it was a man walking.

I pulled over to see if there was anything I could do to help.

Stranger: “I ran out of gas. I’m from [Other State], but I saw on a map that [Town] is close to where [Interstate #1] and [Interstate #2] intersect. I’m heading there to get a can of gas.”

Me: “Get in. It’s too far to be walking in this heat. I’m going that way anyway.”

I took him to a truck stop where he bought a two-gallon gas can and filled it. I sat off from the pumps to see what he was going to do next.

Just as I thought, he started off on foot with the gas.

Me: “Get in and I will take you back to your car.”

Stranger: “No. You don’t need to do that. You have helped enough already.”

Me: “You have any idea how heavy that can is going to get, shortly? And it is too hot to be walking that far. Get in.”

I took him the ten miles back to his car. Before he poured the gas into the tank, he offered to pay me for my trouble.

Me: “I won’t take your money. This is a ‘pay-it-forward’ moment. Besides, I already got paid.”

Stanger: “How is that?”

Me: “The satisfaction of helping another person.”

And with that, I waited until he got the car started before I took off home.

I’m a woman in my twenties. I’ve been having recurring joint pain and severe fatigue for quite a while. I brush it off for several months until I literally fall asleep at my desk at work.

Around this time, I have my yearly labs drawn for my primary care provider (PCP), and several numbers come back elevated. I Google what this means, and it says that those numbers mean inflammation somewhere in the body. I ask my PCP, a man in his fifties, about this at my yearly appointment a couple of weeks later.

PCP #1: “How did you know that those numbers mean inflammation?”

Me: “Google.”

PCP #1: “Why are you Googling things?”

Me: “I had to wait two weeks for this appointment, and I was curious. So, why are those labs so high?”

PCP #1: “You’re on birth control. That causes inflammation.”

Me: “I’ve been on birth control for years with no issues. Why would it be doing that now?”

PCP #1: “Your numbers aren’t that far out of range. Any other questions?”

Me: “Actually, yes. I’ve been having a lot of joint pain, and I’m tired all the time. I’m wondering if that’s related to my labs.”

PCP #1: “If you lost weight, you wouldn’t be in pain. Work out more.”

Me: “…excuse me? I walk on the treadmill almost every day for thirty minutes. I do yoga, too. It hurts too much to do anything else.”

I’m average weight for my height.

PCP #1: “Go outside and run. You’ll have more energy. If that doesn’t work, you probably have chronic fatigue syndrome.”

I walk out of that office wondering if I am imagining everything. I eventually move out of the area and get a new PCP, also a man in his fifties. It takes over a year for me to bring up my symptoms, as I am afraid of being blown off again. At this point, my labs and symptoms are significantly worse.

PCP #2: “So, your inflammatory labs are really out of range. Are you having any odd symptoms?”

Me: “I have a lot of joint pain, and I’m tired all the time.”

PCP #2: “Did you fall recently? Pull a muscle?”

Me: “No, and no.”

PCP #2: “Hmm. When did this start?”

Me: “Um… last year, maybe two years ago. It’s been a while.”

He drops his notepad and stares at me.

PCP #2: “YEARS?!”

Me: “My previous doctor didn’t think it was serious.”

He shook his head and started asking about the joint pain’s location and severity. He referred me to a rheumatologist, who ordered a ton of labs and imaging. I was diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis and started on medication immediately.

Related:
A Very Patient Patient

Minnesota is offering a special payment based on your 2021 taxes of $260 per person. For some reason, the checks are being processed by a company in Montana and are being mailed out from Montana. It’s all over the news.

A client comes in with a check for $260 from Montana.

Client: “Why is Montana sending me a check and claiming it’s from Minnesota?”

I explain it to her.

Client: “I don’t believe you. This is some sort of scam, isn’t it?”

Me: “Well, I don’t see how.”

Client: “As soon as I cash the check, they’re going to empty my bank account, aren’t they?”

Me: “I’m not sure how that’s possible.”

Client: “There’s no way my check from that a**hole [Governor Of Minnesota] could come from Montana. This isn’t my [Governor] check.”

Me: “That is your [Governor] check. It looks just like all the other ones I’ve seen.”

Client: “You’re in on the scam. How much are they paying you?”

Me: “The only people paying me are [Tax Company], I promise.”

Client: “How much are they paying [Tax Company], then?”

Me: “Look… How about you take the check to your banker, and let them explain it to you, and if you still feel uncomfortable about it, you can just shred your check?”

Client: “But will I get my [Governor] check for $260?”

Me: “Not if you shred it.”

Client: “But I want my $260.”

Me: “So cash the check.”

Client: “But it’s a fraudulent check.”

Me: *Pauses* “I think I just heard my next appointment come in. I’m afraid we’re out of time for today. Have a nice day.”

My next appointment had not come in, but I was done dealing with this person. She left, promising to talk to her banker.

Customer: “Excuse me. Can you read this? It’s on my shopping list, but I can’t read the handwriting.”

Me: “Oh, my, yes, that is a bit hard to read. Maybe you should call the person who wrote it to confirm.”

Customer: “Oh, I wrote it.”

Me: “Oh…”

Customer: “I was drunk at the time.”

Me: “I see.”

Customer: “But I must have thought it was important enough at the time to add to my list!”

Me: “Well… I hope you remember.”

Later, as the customer is leaving with a full cart, they see me again. 

Customer: “I found it! It was vodka! I must have written it down when I ran out last night!”