What A Bloody Jerk

(The blood test department in this hospital has a queue management system, not unlike those in a deli: you take a ticket at the desk, and enter the room when your number comes up on the monitor. In the room there are six or seven nurses each with their own button, so the number on the monitor can “jump” pretty quickly. The monitor is currently showing 33. I have ticket number 34 and I’m in front of the door. The monitor shows 34, then 35 in quick succession. I enter the room looking for a free nurse when someone grabs me by the arm and shoves me aside. I recognize the old man who was in the queue behind me.)

Man: *angrily* “Why did you enter? What are you playing at? I have 35; it’s my turn!”

Me: “‘Yeah? It called two numbers at once. I was right before you the whole time and here is my ticket: number 34.”

Man: “Well, it’s showing 35 and it’s my turn!”

Me: *getting angry* “Can’t you see 34 comes before 35, you old—“

Head Nurse: “PIPE DOWN AND GET A CHAIR BEFORE I DECIDE THAT I NEED A LITER OF BLOOD FROM EACH ONE OF YOU!”

(The man muted immediately. I sat at the first available station and didn’t even dare to mutter, “Good morning,” to the nurse!)