(I have visited the Cardiologist for EKGs and echoes every two years since I was born, and one year I am old enough to ask my doctor why I have to.)

Doctor: “You have a heart murmur. Arrhythmia and mitral valve prolapse.”

Me: “What’s that mean?”

Doctor: “Well, most people’s hearts have a steady two-beat. BUMP-bump, BUMP-bump, BUMP-bump, like a drummer. Your heart is like a jazz drummer, who just does whatever: BUMP-bump-bump, BUMP-bump-bump, BUMP, bump-BUMP, no bump. There’s extra beats and missed beats, with no pattern to it.”

Me: “What’s the other one?”

Doctor: “Imagine the hood of a Japanese convertible. The roof goes up, and when it comes back down, it fits perfectly into its base without problems, and is completely sealed. Now imagine the hood of an American convertible. When the roof comes back down, it doesn’t quite fit into the base; it’s off-center, and the air-conditioning will leak out and rain can get in. Your heart is an American car, and the valve is the convertible roof.”

(Two decades later, and I still love this doctor’s explanations to a confused kid.)

I was staying overnight at the hospital for observation because of heart palpitations. I’m a woman in her mid-20’s who has had EKGs and echoes every two years since birth, and I’m fairly used to older male doctors working around my naked torso and have never really been embarrassed. My Cardiologists have also all been respectful in their use of coverings for my breasts, and averting their gaze when those covers need to be shifted or worked under.

This hospital visit, all of the doctors and nurses had been great- until the male nurse who woke me up to give me my next echo in the middle of the night. I am always a complete zombie for a while after any awakening, but even half-asleep I automatically started unbuttoning the shirt to my hospital pajamas, so the nurse could lift the edges and work underneath it, as usual.

This nurse, however, pushes my hands out of the way before I had finished two buttons, quickly unbuttoned the rest of them, and then threw open the shirt, leaving me completely exposed. As he started doing the echo, I lay there quietly, my zombie brain trying to parse the situation at the speed of a snail. Before I even started to realize that I was uncomfortable with this, he was finished and gone without a word the entire time, leaving me to groggily button my shirt back up and fall back asleep.

I never mentioned it the next day to the rest of the staff, between my deathly confrontation allergy and my rationalizations that maybe I was being slow, he was a nurse and had seen plenty of bodies, he just did his job and nothing else creepy, etc. Maybe if I hadn’t been in my vulnerable zombie state, I might have brought up that in 20+ years of medical practitioners, not a single one had required a completely topless show from me to perform an echo, and that the lack of both courtesy and asking for permission bothered me.

A few months ago I was taking the tram home. In my town, you need to check in and check out with a pass on the platform. I always stare out the window, because after a day of dealing with people, I need some peace. Suddenly, someone bumped into me from behind. It’s not uncommon for people to lose their balance, so I turned around to let that person know I was okay, no harm done.

I saw a young man, maybe late teens, carrying a white cane and staring into the distance. It was obvious he was blind. He was touching around, clearly looking for his way. I deduced he didn’t know his way around that well just yet. After meeting several blind people in the past, I never take their hands and only ask if they want help.

The boy touched around and tried to grab my backpack. “Sorry, human and a backpack, but it’s okay,” I said, and the boy moved away. He finally found the door, but it was on the wrong side. I blurted out, “Turn around 180 degrees,” which was stupid, and a more sensible young man said he needed to turn around for the other door.

The young man found the right door and we waited for him to get off. We all wondered if he would find the check-out-pole on his own — plenty of seeing people miss it — but we also knew he needed to do this on his own so he could learn. When it turned out he couldn’t find the pole, I wanted to get out to help him, but the driver of the tram was faster than I was and got out to tell the boy where he needed to be, not touching him, and the boy found the pole.

No one in the tram minded we left late; no one made a fuss.

Today, I took the tram home again and I immediately noticed a large teen with a white cane. Near his stop, he got up, went to the door without hitting anything. I did check if the stop-light was on, because that’s something he can’t see and I can do for him easily. He got off and I noticed the tram driver, a different one from months back, was ready to get out if needed, just like I was.

The boy missed the pole, took a rail nearby, followed it back, and checked-out. After the beep was heard, the tram driver closed the tram and we left.

To me, it felt like I watched something magnificent. He could find his way, on his own, giving him independence. Whatever his future may be, I hope it’ll be great.

I work in the electronics department of my store, and like any retail store (and department) we get a lot of requests for products we don’t carry.

One of those products is for a particular brand of streaming media device. We carry several such devices, but not that particular brand. Even searching for that brand on our store’s website turns up something else entirely.

During one such request I happened to mention to one such customer that I’ve noticed a lot of people like that particular brand.
The customer told me it’s because it’s easy to hack to get free TV.

Rather than clear things up so I could continue business as usual, this just really annoyed me. Why?
Because the customer basically admitted he wants to steal, but I am NOT ALLOWED to accuse customers of attempting to steal.

(I’m working the evening shift at a popular fast food chain. While our drive-thru stays open until 2am, our dining room closes at 10pm. On this one particular night, business is slow, and as the dining room is empty, my co-worker and I start sweeping and mopping. Around 9:30pm a car pulls up in front of the door and we see a older man get out.)

Man: (He walks up to the door but doesn’t open it, he just looks at us through the front window and gestures questioningly at the door and mouths somthing to the effect of “Are you still open?” )

(As the hours are clearly posted on the door, I exchange a puzzled glance with my co-worker)

Me: (since the man has not even tried to open the door,  I nod and mouth silently back to him,)  “Yes, we are still open.”

Man: (turns and waves the rest of his family out of the car)

(At this moment I get a ping on my headset indicating that someone is at the drive-thru and so I leave to take the order. As I am finishing up with serving the customer at the window, I hear a commotion in the dining room and see my manager running to the front of the store. I glance around the corner of the drive thru alcove and see the man standing in the middle of the dining room yelling at my manager.  He then see me.)

Man: (shouting and pointing his finger at me)
THAT’S THE GUY! THAT GUY CALLED ME AN A**HOLE!!!

Me:( my mouth drops in surprise) Sir,…I would never call-

Man: (cutting me off and still shouting) YES! YES, YOU DID! NOW, I’M NO EXPERT AT READING LIPS, BUT I’M PRETTY SURE YOU CALLED ME AN A**HOLE!

(I try to explain to him that I was just trying to let him know that we were indeed open, yet he continues to rant and yell about how terrible we are. He reiterates how he is not an expert at reading lips, but is still sure that I called him an “A-hole”, and how I should be fired. His family, meanwhile, stands by the door looking mortified)

Man: (Waving his family back through the door) WE’RE LEAVING AND NEVER COMING HERE AGAIN.

Me: (slightly shaken by the hostility directed at me) Look, (manager) I never called him that.

Manager: (bemused) Yeah, (my name) I know.  It’s not like you to use that kind of language.  It’s kinda funny through that someone who “isn’t an expert at reading lips” was so dead sure of what he thought you said.