What A Diabeetus

, , , , , , | Right | November 6, 2017

(A customer is getting her money out of her bag. I had put in a low blood-sugar reading in my insulin pump a couple minutes earlier, and it always beeps to remind me to check it again. It beeps, and I unclip it from my waist and turn the screen on. The customer looks up and her eyes go wide.)

Customer: “Of course!”

Me: “What’s the matter?”

Customer: “This is the reason I hate this store! They hire teenagers that look at their phones all the time! They don’t even care about the customers.”

Me: “What? Oh! This isn’t a phone, ma’am.” *presses “okay” and clips it back to my waist*

Customer: “Yes, it is! Give it to me so I can report you to your manager!”

Me: “One, it’s not a phone. Two, I can’t take it off because it’s an insulin pump. I have type-one diabetes.” *shows her my medical alert bracelet* “My manager knows this.”

Customer: “You don’t have diabetes! You’re not obese!”

Me: *tries to resist the urge to face-palm* “Ma’am, I have type-one. The one you’re thinking about is type-two. Please give me the money and leave.”

Customer: “No!” *reaches for my pump, which has a tube that connects to something on my stomach*

Me: *calmly* “Please leave.”

(The customer once again reaches for my pump, and pulls it off my pants. She pulls it forward and realizes there’s a tube on it.)

Customer: “How do you disconnect the charger?”

Me: “That isn’t a charger wire, ma’am. It’s a tube. You can see it’s clear. Please let go.”

(I reach to take my pump back. The customer pulls it forwards again, and I jerk forward. A lot of the time I drop my pump, and it pulls on my stomach. It’s never torn out the thing on my stomach, but this time it’s about to. Luckily, my manager arrives before it does.)

Manager: “Let go of that right now and leave. It’s good that you hate this store, because you’re not coming back.”

(The customer places the pump on the counter and runs to the door, not taking her money or things.)

Me: “Thanks.”

Manager: “Take her money; you deserve it. I’ll put her stuff back.”

(Suddenly, I heard a beep. My manager was also a diabetic, and also had a low earlier. He pulled out his pump, which looked like mine. I heard a loud scream and the door slamming shut.)

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