Category: Employees

They Saw The Light

| England, UK | Criminal/Illegal, Employees, Liars/Scammers, Technology

(I have been using the same garage for years; they give a good discount and are really flexible. There hasn’t been a problem until today.)

Mechanic: “Well, the car has failed the MOT.”

Me: “Oh great. What for?”

Mechanic: “Well, you had a bulb out on one side. If both sides were out it would be okay, but they need to be the same.”

Me: “Oh, okay, that is easily fixed. I will unplug one of the others.”

Mechanic: “Yeah, you could do that… Oh, it failed on light alignment. They have been fitted really poorly. Did you do it yourself?”

Me: “No, you guys did it.”

Mechanic: “Ah, okay. Give me one second.”

(I wait 15 minutes.)

Mechanic: “If you leave the car here it will be retested within the hour.”

Me: “Okay. How much for the retest?”

Mechanic: “Oh, I, err, don’t worry about that.”

(True to his word, the car was re-tested and even cleaned well before the hour was up and for free. I never got questioned about the lights again.)

Half-Witted By A Half-Dozen

| San Antonio, TX, USA | At The Checkout, Employees, Extra Stupid, Math & Science

(I go to the register and ask for a half-dozen doughnuts. The cashier looks at her manager.)

Cashier: “She wants six, right?”

(The poor manager had a look of pure shock on his face and just answered “yes.”)

Cyst-emic Failures

| PA, USA | Employees, Health & Body

(My fairly well-known gynecologist office that employs multiple doctors had been great for me… until this all happened last spring. My husband and I went in for a check-up (on his birthday nonetheless) to find that I am having a first trimester miscarriage. Ensue a month of failure. Doctor #1 is male.)

Doctor #1: “So sorry about your loss. You have two options; we can remove it or you can pass it naturally.”

Me: “What can I expect passing it naturally?”

Doctor #1: “Some mild to heavy cramping up to a week; we want you to come back in if nothing happens after a week.”

Me: *having experienced heavy cramping before and tired of having probes stuck inside of me* “I’ll just pass it naturally.”

Doctor #1: “All right. Now, about this cyst on your right ovary—”

Me & Husband: “What cyst?!”

Doctor #1: *looks taken back* “You saw [Doctor #2] last month, yes?”

Me: “Yes, but she didn’t say anything about a cyst!”

(So we schedule for the cyst removal surgery with Doctor #1 at the end of the month. Figuring if I’m only going to experience heavy cramping, then I can still work, I resume my job the next day.)

Me: “Hey, I’m a bit of a complainer, so don’t mind me if I start rambling over here.”

Coworker: “Totally understandable. You’re fine.”

(Ten minutes later.)

Me: *starts to get some intense cramping* “Ugh, should’ve knocked on wood!”

(Over the next twenty minutes, I experience THE most horrific pain I have ever felt in my life. It was so bad I was in tears and had my husband take me to the ER, where I promptly got sick. They had me lie in a bed over the next six hours on pain meds that at least made the pain more bearable. The pain, by the way, began to come in contraction-like waves exactly five minutes apart. Late the next day, I pass the miscarriage, and then make a follow-up appointment with the office. I’m experiencing some tenderness and am feeling rather emotional over everything. Yet another probe goes into me and they suggest I have a procedure to “clean out” everything, which worsens my emotional state.)

Nurse: “The doctor has to approve you for the procedure, but she’s in.”

(So I cancel my much needed therapy appointment and drive to the office. I’m charged a co-pay, but am not in the mindset to ask why I am paying, since my insurance covers co-pays. I sit mutely and wait a bit until I’m called back.)

Nurse: “All right, if you can stand on the scale.”

Me: “Why? I’m here to see the doctor to get approved for the procedure. I literally just came from the other office.”

Nurse: “Oh, well, so the placenta didn’t come out?”

Me: “I… guess not?”

Nurse: “But the baby was delivered fine.”

Me: *thinking that’s an odd choice of words* “I… uh, delivered last night?”

Nurse: *looks at me as if I’ve grown a third head* “Well, who’s watching over the baby?”

Me: *shocked* “I had a miscarriage!”

Nurse: “OH!” *mumbles* “The doctor will see you shortly.” *beelines it out of the room*

(I’m rather upset that they wouldn’t have this whole business in my own paperwork when none other but Doctor #2 comes in.)

Doctor #2: “Oh, hello. Sorry about your loss. And about the cyst. They told me you didn’t know. I must’ve forgotten to write it in.” *looks at her clipboard* “You’re fine. Sorry about your loss again.” *leaves*

(I am flabbergasted at not only paying for mishandled paperwork but also for the doctor to say two words that she could have said over the phone. The procedure goes smoothly. Fast forward to the end of the month, where I’m checked in for the cyst removal surgery. The surgeon assistant comes up with some paperwork for me to sign and begins to read off what will be done.)

Surgeon Assistant: “We’ll be removing the cyst on the right ovary and check the left for a possible cyst—”

Me & Husband: “WHAT?”

Surgeon Assistant: *awkwardly* “Oh, he didn’t tell you… Uh, yes, there might be one on the left ovary. How about you speak with him before you sign?”

Husband: “YES, thank you.”

(After he leaves, my husband begins cursing out the entire medical office and their blunders while I’m trying to wonder how in the world they can have such grievous miscommunication. Cue waiting for a very long time, to the point where the surgeon assistants walk past our little room several times, occasionally checking to see if Doctor #1 has spoken with us yet. Eventually Doctor #1 comes in, says that while they didn’t see anything from the probes, he just wants to make sure. Tired of this whole ordeal, I sign and into surgery we go, which thankfully is a success with one cyst removal. A week later, I’m in the gynecologist office for the follow-up appointment and the icing on the cake.)

Doctor #1: *leans forward, looking excited* “So do you want to see the cyst?”

Me: “NO.”

Doctor #1: *looks very disappointed*

(SERIOUSLY?! Needless to say, I haven’t been back.)

Needling Through The Lack Of Empathy

| CA, USA | Employees, Health & Body, Ignoring & Inattentive

(I have to go to the hospital to get a spinal tap, which is normally a very easy procedure; however, I am terrified of needles to the point of panic or worse. A few days before, the charge nurse calls and I tell her that I will need sedation because there is a 99.9% chance I’ll flip out. She is extremely sweet and says it will be ready and she completely understands. The day of the procedure, the nurse working explains the procedure but has no mention of sedation or anything along those lines. When the phlebotomist comes to take my blood I start freaking out.)

Fiancé: “What about the IV for the sedative? Can you please take the blood through there before the saline and sedative are attached?

Nurse: “She is not getting a sedative. It is a simple procedure.”

Fiancé: “She called ahead. She is terrified of needles and will need sedatives so you can do the spinal tap.”

Nurse: “That is not necessary and overkill. I’ll see what we can do though.”

(When the nurse comes back, she without a word starts setting up the IV. As she starts trying to find my vein she gets increasingly frustrated, as my veins are hard to see when I am calm, much less freaking out. She starts off where my arm bends, stabbing that area four times with me getting more upset. She then goes to my wrist where she proceeds to jam into a bone causing me to lose it and go into a full panic attack. She goes to the forearm on the same arm and pokes me five or six times, finding the vein but being unable to thread it through.)

Fiancé: “Can you find the vein?”

Nurse: “Yes, but the needle won’t go in.”

Fiancé: “Maybe that is because she can’t breathe and can barely keep her arm still. Can you please give her a break?”

Nurse: “FINE!” *storms out, leaving the needle sticking out of my arm*

(My fiancé spends the next 15 minutes calming me down and keeping me from looking at or moving my arm until the charge nurse comes in.)

Charge Nurse: “Oh, my God, it’s still in her arm?!”

Fiancé: “Yes. Can you please take it out?!”

Charge Nurse: “Of course! I’ll be finishing the IV for you today, too.”

(The nurse spends a good ten minutes trying to figure out where to put the IV, as my right arm is mangled beyond belief and my left has already been used for a blood draw. When she finally finds a spot, she is in and out in five minutes. Ten minutes later, a male nurse comes in and takes me to a room to get the spinal tap done. I am waiting for ten minutes before the doctor comes in.)

Doctor: “All right, sweetheart, they need to take you back to the waiting area. You are getting a sedative and this room does not have the correct equipment to monitor your vitals.”

Me: “Seriously? This whole thing has been a nightmare. How does no one know I needed a sedative? I made sure that was clear before I came.”

Doctor: “I honestly don’t know because it is in your chart. It will be five more minutes and we will get this over with okay?”

(From that point on the whole thing (including the sedative) took about 25 minutes. When I went back into the waiting area, the nurse dismissed me within 20 minutes which ended up being a horrible idea because I reacted badly to the procedure. However the only solution to my reaction was to go get a blood patch at the same place, so I refused and dealt with serious pain throughout my head for 9 days. I realize I made an easy procedure harder; however, I was there from 7 am to 12:30. Had they listened to me from the beginning, it would have taken an hour, tops.)

Made A Whoopie Whoopsie

| Toronto, ON, Canada | Employees, Food & Drink, Ignoring & Inattentive

(My dad and I are visiting family in Toronto. We are going to get food and drinks for everyone. We are the only customers there.)

Dad: “Hi, I want two small black coffees, a cream cheese bagel, and uh–” *looks at me* “What do you want?”

Me: “A chocolate whoopie pie doughnut, please.”

Dad: “…and a chocolate doughnut.”

Cashier: “Okay.”

(I’m watching the screen that shows the order and notice she typed the wrong doughnut.)

Me: “Um… did you tell her I wanted a chocolate whoopie pie doughnut?”

Cashier: *annoyed* “I know what you want. I just typed in the wrong thing.”

(My dad and I know how easy it is to make a mistake, so we don’t say anything. A few minutes later:)

Cashier: “Okay, here’s what you ordered…” *puts everything but the doughnut and a coffee on the counter*

Dad: “Um…. you forgot the doughnut and coffee.”

Cashier: “Oh! I’ll go get them.” *takes a long time to get the coffee*

Me: “You, forgot the whoopie pie doughnut.”

Cashier: *annoyed sigh, gives me a box*

Dad: *leaving the store* “This coffee tastes weird. So… how’s your doughnut?”

Me: *looks in box* “They gave me the wrong doughnut.”