Third Time’s A Harm

| Working | March 14, 2013

(I am allergic to two medications. I’ve been to this hospital before and it’s stamped all over my chart. I also wear a medical ID bracelet stating my allergies. However…)

Doctor: “I can see that your asthma is flaring. Why don’t we use [medication I’m allergic to]?”

Me: “Um, I’m allergic to that. I’d really rather you didn’t.”

Doctor: “Oh, in that case, we won’t.”

(Several minutes later, the respiratory therapist comes in. As mix-ups have happened before, I inquire as to what medications he is giving me.)

Me: “Excuse me, sir, but could you tell me which medications are in there?”

Respiratory Therapist: “Certainly, young lady! It’s [hybrid combo that contains one of the meds I’m allergic to].”

Me: “I’m allergic to that.”

(The respiratory therapist looks at my chart, and then at my medical ID  bracelet.)

Respiratory Therapist: “And so you are.”

(Finally, I get the medications I’m not allergic to and I’m breathing better. They discover I also have a sinus infection, so I’m prescribed an antibiotic.)

Doctor: “And here is your prescription for [antibiotic I’m allergic to].”

My Friend & Me: “Allergic.”


Me: “I… don’t know. All I know is the last time I took it I broke out in hives, and I really don’t want a repeat of that, sir.”

Doctor: “Oh. In that case, I’ll write a script for [safe antibiotic].”

(I finally got out of there, and thankfully wasn’t given any of the medications I’m rather allergic to!)

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Don’t Pin This On Me

| Working | March 13, 2013

(Some friends are in from out of town, so I call a local bowling alley to make a reservation for the following night.)

Me: “Hey, I need to reserve a lane for tomorrow night for five people. Any time after 7pm is good.”

Employee #1: “There’s no need to reserve a lane. We’re wide open tomorrow night.”

Me: “You’re sure? I’ve got people in from out of town. Can I go ahead and make a reservation just in case?”

Employee #1: “There’s really no need. You’ll be able to walk right in and get a lane.”

Me: “Okay, we’ll be in tomorrow then…”

(The next night we meet up with our friends and walk into the bowling alley only to see that it is packed. We walk up to the counter to see about getting a lane.)

Me: “We need a lane for five, please.”

Employee #2: “This is Blind League night. We won’t have any lanes until 11.”

Me: “I was told last night that I didn’t need a reservation tonight; you’d be wide open.”

Employee #2: “Well, we have League night every week on the same night, and we won’t have any lanes open until at least 11. That’s the best I can do for you.”

Me: “Who was working the counter last night, then? I’d like to know who lied to me and why they wouldn’t bother to tell me that the lanes would be full.”

Employee #2: “Well, the only one back here last night was [Employee #1].”

(He gestures down at the end of the counter to an employee who is putting away shoes. When I confront him, he says…)

Employee #1: “Aw, h*** no, you ain’t putting this s*** on me.”

Me: “Oh, so you didn’t work last night?”

Employee #1: “No, I worked last night, but it’s not my fault you didn’t know it was League night. Everyone knows it’s League night.”

Me: “So, since I didn’t know, you outright lied when I asked, instead of just telling me to come in another night? What did you think was going to happen when I showed up?”

Employee #1: *shrugs shoulders and goes into the back*

Employee #2: *looks at us blankly* “You want to reserve a lane for 11?”

(We left, and haven’t been back!)

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Grey Can Turn You Red

| Working | March 13, 2013

(This occurs during the lunch hour at work. All of my coworkers in this story and I are female.)

Coworker #1: “I just LOVE that 50 Shades series.”

Coworker #2: “I know, right? They’re just amazing!”

Coworker #3: “I read the whole first book in an evening. I especially loved when…”

(Coworker #3 proceeds to describe a scene from the books. Afterwards, Coworker #2 turns to me.)

Coworker #2: “[My name], have you read them? Aren’t they just a great read?”

Me: “Nah, they’re just not hardcore enough for me.”

(They all go quiet and turn every shade of red. I burst out laughing.)

Me: “Hey now, ladies… you’re the ones talking about smut in the workplace!”

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These Dumplings Ain’t For Darlings, Darlin’

| Working | March 13, 2013

(I’m eating with my brother at a restaurant. We have two dumplings left, and we want to take home one each.)

Brother: “Can we get two containers and two bags, please?”

Waitress: “Yeah, sure.”

(The waitress takes the dumplings, but she comes back with both dumplings in the same container.)

Me: “Actually, can we get another container and bag, please?”

Waitress: “How wasteful are you! Why do you need to separate the dumplings? One container has room for five or six dumplings.”

Me: “Because one is for him and one is for me. We don’t live together.”

Waitress: “Well, why not?”

Me: “I still live with our parents, and he moved out when he married.”

Waitress: “And you’re dating a married man? That’s pretty shameful.”

Me: “I’m not dating him; he’s my brother.”

Waitress: “Well, I saw you two hugging, and he kissed you on the forehead.”

Brother: *to me* “Let’s just go. Not worth it. Since my home is on the way you can come by. I’ll put my dumpling in a bowl and you can take the other home.”

Waitress: *stares at us until we leave*

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Persistence of (Tele)Vision

| Working | March 13, 2013

(I have been living at my current residence for about six months. One day, a cable service worker knocks on my door.)

Worker: “I am here to inform you that your cable will be turned off, and I must take your cable box unless you bring your account up to date.”

Me: “Umm, I don’t have cable.”

Worker: “Miss [Name]? You owe [Company] [Amount]. How would you like to pay?”

Me: “That is not my name. That person hasn’t lived here for six months.”

Worker: “I need the cable box miss, and unless you can pay the account I will turn your cable off now.”

Me: “I’m not paying you anything. I don’t have cable; I never have and I don’t have a cable box. Here’s my driver’s license, here are three pieces of mail with my name, and two with my husbands name. I do not owe your company any money.”

Worker: “Uh huh… okay. I need the cable box.”

Me: “I do not have a cable box. I never had an account with your company.”

Worker: “Ma’am, I am going to shut the cable off now.”

Me: “Okay, fine.”

(Five minutes later, he knocks on the door again.)

Worker: “I need the cable box, now.”

Me: “I don’t really know how many more times I am going to need to tell you this. I do not have a cable box. I am not [Name].”

Worker: “Can you prove that?”

Me: “I already showed you my photo ID and my mail. What else do you need?”

Worker: “State or government issued ID.”

Me: “Okay, once again, here is my driver’s license, and here is my military ID, here is my power bill and there…”

(I point to my husband’s car, which is pulling into the driveway as we speak.)

Me: “…is my husband. Why don’t you talk to him now?”

(I let my husband speak with the worker and leave. Twenty minutes, later he finally comes into the house.)

My Husband: “I had to call the cable company and the landlord to prove to that guy that we don’t owe them any money.”

Me: “Ugh, that’s crazy.”

My Husband: “He says he still wants the cable box back, though.”

(Just then, there’s another knock on the door.)

Me: “I am not getting that.”

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