Category: Health & Body

Bleach Out This Experience

| OH, USA | Coworkers, Extra Stupid, Food & Drink, Health & Body

(I am the manager of a locally owned pizza/sandwich restaurant. As it goes in most places, I have a few good workers, several mediocre ones, and then there’s one woman who is the problem employee. Not because she’s lazy, but because it is seemingly impossible for her to do anything right.)

Problem Employee: *begins spraying bleach on the food table while food is being prepared*

Assistant Manager: “Hey! What are you doing?!”

Problem Employee: “Wiping down the tables before close?”

Assistant Manager: “You have to wait until I’m done making food on the table before you spray bleach on it.”

Problem Employee: “No, I don’t! Bleach won’t hurt food. It’s perfectly safe!”

Assistant Manager: “So let me get this straight. You’re saying that it won’t be a problem if you spray bleach on these subs?”

Problem Employee: “Well, yeah.”

Assistant Manager: “Okay, then. Drink it. If you don’t think it will poison food, then drink it.”

Problem Employee: *sudden look of realization and embarrassment as she runs away to hide in the back room*

The Opposite Of Smooth Operator

| WA, USA | Bad Behavior, Employees, Health & Body

(I have an elderly neighbor who helped to raise me and supported my family a great deal. My brothers and I refer to him as our grandpa; he is the closest thing to a grandparent I’ve ever had, and we love him very much. I am about 13 when my mom and I come to his house to find him in dire health. He is unresponsive and very sick, not breathing. My mom begins administering CPR and asks me to call 911. Having done that before for other sick relatives, I know the drill.)

911 Operator: “I’m sending an ambulance now. Can you tell me if he’s ever had heart surgery?”

Me: “Just one second, I need to ask my mom—“

911 Operator: *irritated* “No! I need to know now!”

Me: *trying to get my mom’s attention* “Okay, I don’t know. Let me ask—“

911 Operator: “Excuse me, young lady, this is an emergency! We need to know now!”

Me: *still flagging mom, who is giving mouth-to-mouth* “I’m trying!”

911 Operator: “Do you even know ANYTHING?”

Me: *finally making an educated guess* “Yes, I think he’s had heart surgery.”

911 Operator: “For what condition?”

Me: “I really don’t know, ma’am.”

911 Operator: *snorts* “Fine. What medications does he take?”

Me: “I don’t know. We don’t do his meds. My mom and I don’t know that.”

911 Operator: “You are very unhelpful. This is serious. He could die if we don’t treat him properly! This information is important!”

Me: *beginning to cry* “I’m sorry! We really just don’t know that. I can check his medicine cabinet…”

911 Operator: “Fine! You should have done that to begin with!”

Me: *listing the meds I find in the cabinet*

911 Operator: “Good girl.” *sighs dramatically* “Now, what disorders does he have that require medication?”

Me: “…I think he has heart disease…?”

911 Operator: “Well, obviously! I could have told you that!”

Me: *still crying, trying to flag mom, but she’s still preoccupied* “Are the paramedics almost here?”

911 Operator: “They’ll be there soon.” *mumbling* “No thanks to you.”

(Crying hard at that point, I threw the phone down and went to sit beside my mom. My grandpa died the next morning. Thanks to that operator, I blamed myself for several years.)

Scar Still Causing You Issues

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

(I have an I.V. scar on the inside of my arm from surgery when I was twelve. I am now thirty-two. The scar is barely visible and it should be clear to anyone who has ever had a shot or blood draw or knows basic anatomy that it is not a fresh needle mark. I routinely donate plasma at a center in my town. While the money is nice, I donate because of what I went through as a child and because my blood type is not compatible with most others but my plasma type is fairly universal. On this day I have just come from work and I am dressed quite nicely, though my hair is colored a vibrant shade of blue, which is new. I have just been called to the back for my physical exam and iron test.)

Nurse: “Hold out your arms, please.”

(I do.)

Nurse: *while poking my scar* “What is THAT?”

Me: “It’s an old I.V. scar from when I was a kid. It’s noted in my paperwork.”

Nurse: “Hang on.”

(She gets up and walks away, and I can see her talking to another nurse. She then gathers some papers and returns.)

Nurse: “Okay, we can’t let you donate with visible track marks. You’re going to be red-flagged in our system. Here is some paperwork about what that means, and the process you need to go through to be able to donate again. You will always be red-flagged, so the next time you come in with track marks or if you come in tweaking or showing any other sign of your drug use, you will receive a lifetime ban from donating plasma anywhere in the country.”

(She is very loud, especially each time she says “track marks.” Since the back of her cubby opens to the waiting room, people are now staring.)

Me: “Ma’am, this is not a track mark. It’s a SCAR. I’ve had it all the other times I’ve donated, and it is noted in my file.”

Nurse: *crossing her arms* “You can leave, or I can call security. Your choice.”

(I suddenly recognize the woman.)

Me: “Is your daughter [Name]?”

Nurse: *going pale* “How do you know that?”

Me: “You don’t recognize me. Must be the blue hair, which I assume is also why you jumped to the conclusion that I’m a drug user. I was your daughter’s eighth-grade English teacher before I moved exclusively to subbing while I get my doctorate.” *I hand the papers back to her, her face is now quite pink* “You can keep these. I won’t be back.”

His Heart Isn’t In The Right Place

| Queensbury, NY, USA | Employees, Health & Body, Ignoring & Inattentive

(I am seeing my primary doctor for my biannual wellness visit. I had gone into the appointment very concerned because my heart arrhythmia had flared up in the past few weeks. At the end of the appointment:)

Me: “I’d like a referral for a cardiologist, for a consult and a Holter monitor [basically an EKG that you wear for 24-48 hours]. My PVCs have been increasing, and I’m becoming alarmed.”

Doctor: *clearly unconcerned* “I don’t think this is an issue. I don’t hear any skipped beats.” *listens to my chest for maybe three or four seconds, not an exaggeration*

Me: “I respect that, but I want a referral to a cardiologist.”

Doctor: *seemingly annoyed* “All right, I’ll put in that referral for you.”

(He did, and I had the Holter monitor and consult done. At the consult I learnt that literally 23% of my heartbeats were premature, resulting in no blood pumping effectively during those periods. I never went back to that doctor.)

A Colorful Excuse

| MN, USA | Bosses & Owners, Health & Body, Ignoring & Inattentive

(I’m being interviewed for a seasonal position at a local crafting store. I’m also color blind.)

Interviewer: “Your references checked out and we’d love to have you on the staff.”

Me: “Perfect! I just need to make sure I’m cashier only, however, due to the nature of the store.”

Interviewer: “Not a problem; we start all of our seasonals as cashiers and go from there anyway, and I’ll make sure the managers know about the circumstances. There’s plenty to do that doesn’t involve coloring.”

(My first shift, a manager snags me and brings me to the fabric section.)

Manager: “Okay, so I need these sorted by color. I’ll have someone come help you in a bit when it slows down.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t. I’m [My Name] and I’m-”

Manager: “And I’m your boss, so do it.” *walks away*

(I do what I can until help arrives and wonder if any of the managers actually read my interview notes. An hour later, he comes back.)

Manager: “You’ve barely touched this section!”

Me: “Yes, I know. I’m [My Name] and I was promised I would be cashier only because I’m COLOR BLIND and therefore kind of useless when it comes to sorting things by color.”

Manager: “Oh, right, you’re THAT one. Look this one-” *points* “-is blue, and this one-” *points* “is green. Then there’s purple, aqua-”

Me: “Yeah, I’m sorry, but that’s black, that’s gray, and the rest look brown.”

Manager: “Fine, I’ll get someone else to do it! Just go cashier!”

Me: “Love to.”

(At least it’s only a seasonal position.)