The Faint Is Not A Feint

, , , , , | Healthy | April 24, 2019

(My adult daughter has multiple medical issues, including vasovagal syncope — she faints — triggered by several things, including vomiting and even small blood draws. I am with her for support and as her driver in case of problems when she goes to get a routine blood draw that requires multiple vials. Due to insurance issues, she is going to an unfamiliar lab and has called in advance to verify that there is a bed available for her to lie down for the draw, as it’s the only way to prevent an event. She is called by the phlebotomist.)

Phlebotomist: “Please have a seat here in this chair and we’ll get started.”

Daughter: “I need to lie down or I’ll faint. I was told you had a bed available?”

Phlebotomist: “Oh, was that you who called? Please just sit down. I draw blood every day, all day, and I’ve never heard of such a problem.”

(It’s actually fairly common.)

Daughter: “I have vasovagal syncope triggered by having my blood drawn. I’d rather lie down so I don’t end up on the floor.”

Phlebotomist: “There isn’t a bed available. Now, you’re holding up the process as there are several others also waiting to have their blood drawn. We’ll just have to deal with it if it happens, which I know for a fact it won’t. I’m very good at my job.”

Daughter: “I’d rather wait for a bed. How long will it be?”

Phlebotomist: “We don’t have any beds in the lab. We’d have to go to the doctor’s office next door, and I’m not going to do that. These chairs recline a bit; I’ll put it back and you’ll be fine. Now, are you going to get the blood drawn or not?”

Daughter: *not wanting to make a scene and needing to have the procedure completed* “Okay, but I warned you; you can’t say I didn’t.” *and to me* “Mom, please come in and be ready to catch me.”

(The phlebotomist prepares my daughters arm for the draw, commenting about how she’s never seen anyone actually faint from a simple blood draw, and what a wuss my daughter is for having to have her mother present for the procedure. When she inserts the needle and starts to draw the blood, my daughter’s eyes roll back and she starts to slide out of the chair.)

Phlebotomist: “What’s happening?! Wake up, wake up! You can’t do this to me! Please, Mom, hold her up while I finish!”

(So much for not keeping the others waiting. She was out cold on the floor for several minutes, and it was over half an hour before she could stand to even get into a wheelchair to leave the room. They’ve since installed a fully reclining chair in the lab, and the phlebotomist learned a valuable lesson about listening to the clients. Also, my daughter will now not allow anyone to draw her blood unless she is fully lying down and will not take “no” for an answer.)

Real Life Random Key Generator

, , , , | Working | April 24, 2019

(On my way into the office one morning, when I stop to get the mail, I see a key has been left inside for one of the package mailboxes. I go to open it and realize the key doesn’t even remotely fit for the box it indicates it’s for. I try the other one to be sure, but of course, it doesn’t work. There’s nothing to be done for it at the moment, so I take it with me to my office and explain to my boss. He says he’ll call the post office to figure it out. Later, he tells me what the mail person said.)

Boss: “They said they couldn’t find the right key, so they just left that one and hoped it worked.”

Me: “So… they don’t have the key to their own box, so they gave us a key on the one-in-a-trillion chance it’d somehow work?”

Boss: “Apparently.”

(I asked for more information, like maybe it was an old key or went to neighboring boxes and they hoped it was the same key, but my boss was under the strong impression that the mail person literally just grabbed a random key and slapped the box number on it. I’m still baffled months later.)

That’s Not The Ticket To A Resolution

, , , | Legal | April 24, 2019

(My former employer shares one very large parking lot with two other large stores. The borough owns the lot and does not want large vehicles like tractor trailers and motorhomes parking there overnight, so they have large yellow signs with black print and reflective edges at every entrance and exit, stating that these vehicles will be ticketed and possibly towed at the owner’s expense. There is a second sign below the first stating that there is a truck stop just down the road with a free shuttle service between the truck stop and our store. One summer day, I am working at the customer service desk alone when an irate driver comes up.)

Driver: *waves a small tan envelope in my face* “This is bulls***!” *opens the envelope, brandishing a parking ticket* “It says I can’t park my rig here? I always park at [Supercenter]!”

Me: “Some [Supercenter]s own the parking lots by their stores, but unfortunately, we do not. Our lot is owned by the borough—“

Driver: “I always park at [Supercenter]! I spend hundreds in your stores every week!”

Me: “I apologize, sir, but the borough does not allow large vehicles to park in our lot. There is a truck stop about a mile down the road with a free shuttle service to our store.”

Driver: “How am I supposed to know I can’t park here?”

Me: “There are signs posted at every entrance and exit of the lot.”

Driver: “Every other [Supercenter] in the universe lets me do it!”

Me: *losing my patience* “As I said, sir, we do not own the parking lot. You’ll have to take it up with the local police. I can give you their number if you’d like.”

Driver: “Take it back.”

Me: “I can’t. You can contact the police department but—“

Driver: “No. You will take this back. I’m not paying this f****** ticket.”

Me: “[Supercenter] has nothing to do with the police department issuing parking tickets.”

Driver: “Well, you can go f*** yourself. I’m not paying.”

(The man ripped up the ticket and blew the shreds in my face before storming out. I swept up the pieces, put them in another envelope, and contacted a manager to ask what to do with the shreds; she took them and contacted the police, who sent over an officer to collect the pieces. The officer laughed when I told him the story, saying he was the one who’d issued the ticket. It was only $10.)

Your Concerns Hold No Quarter With Her

, , , | Related | April 24, 2019

(My daughter, one day shy of two years old, puts a quarter in her mouth.)

Me: “Spit that out! Spit that out!”

(I reached for her face, about to stick my hand in her mouth. She opened her hand, revealing the quarter, and just smirked at me.)

Yes, Because Heterosexual Porn Is Okay

, , , , | Right | April 24, 2019

(My husband told me this story from his time working at a video game store. He is working with a male customer to trade in their PS2. He plugs in the unit to make sure it powers on and ejects the disk drive to find an adult film DVD in it with an obvious title referring to busty women.)

Customer: *laughs nervously* “Well, at least I’m not gay, right?!”

Husband: *has seen it all and wordlessly hands the customer the DVD and finishes the trade-in as usual*

 

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