Allergic To Common Sense, Part 11
Restaurant | Right | February 22, 2017
(I work in a southwestern-themed restaurant, and many of our recipes include similar spices, just in different amounts. Onion is one of the most prominent ingredients in our recipes, and we sometimes get a request for ‘no onion’ in certain items. We can make some things, but it’d be pretty much just lettuce, cheese, and any number of fresh chopped vegetables that aren’t onion or mixed with anything that has onion in it. As such, I get this man in line.)
Customer: “I’d like a burrito.”
Me: “Okay, would you like that with or without guacamole today?”
Customer: “With.”
(The guacamole has onion in it.)
Me: “What kind of meat on your burrito?”
Customer: “Chicken.”
(The chicken has onion in the seasoning.)
Me: “Any rice or beans?”
Customer: “Sure, I’ll take [rice with onion in it], and [beans with onion in them].”
Me: “Any grilled vegetables?”
Customer: “Ooh, no, thank you. I’m allergic to onion.”
Me: “Sir… if you’re allergic to onions then I highly suggest you don’t eat this burrito. There is a load of onion in it already.”
Customer: “Oh, no, I’m only allergic to onion that I can see.”
(Eight years of culinary experience, and this is the first time I’ve heard that excuse. I made him his burrito – leaving off anything with visible onion – and he went on his way. No complaints yet.)
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 10
Restaurant | Right | September 27, 2016
(I am a cashier at a restaurant. We are a small business and the owners are still working on the perfect way to run the business. A couple walks in and orders at the counter as usual. After finding a table, the woman returns to the counter.)
Customer: “Excuse me; do you have any larger chairs? My husband is too large to fit in these.”
(I know we don’t have any, but I go in the back to ask the owner for advice anyway. I return to the counter with no real solution.)
Me: *”No, ma’am. We don’t have any larger chairs; I’m sorry for your husband’s discomfort.”
Customer: “Okay, thanks anyway.”
(She goes back to her table, visibly upset. The husband returns to fill his drink, and I notice he is wearing an adult bib. They eat all their food with seemingly no complaints. They talk for a few minutes, and then the wife returns to the counter.)
Customer: “Excuse me, I’m having an allergic reaction. Is the manager around?”
Me: “Yes, ma’am. Let me go grab the owner for you.”
Owner: “What’s wrong, ma’am ?”
Customer: “My throat is itchy. I’m allergic to something in your food. Could you name the ingredients for me?”
Owner: *names every ingredient in the food she and her husband has eaten*
Customer: “I’m not allergic to any of that.”
Owner: “I’m sorry, ma’am, then you didn’t have an allergic reaction here.”
Customer: *becoming more angry by the second* “I said my throat is itchy and I’m having an allergic reaction! Don’t you care at all about your customers?”
Owner: “Would you like me to call an ambulance?”
Customer: “No! I’m fine! We were just leaving!”
(She pulled her husband out the door. He seemed indifferent to her “allergic reaction.” He even waved to us on the way out.)
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 10
Restaurant | Right | September 27, 2016
(I am a cashier at a restaurant. We are a small business and the owners are still working on the perfect way to run the business. A couple walks in and orders at the counter as usual. After finding a table, the woman returns to the counter.)
Customer: “Excuse me; do you have any larger chairs? My husband is too large to fit in these.”
(I know we don’t have any, but I go in the back to ask the owner for advice anyway. I return to the counter with no real solution.)
Me: *”No, ma’am. We don’t have any larger chairs; I’m sorry for your husband’s discomfort.”
Customer: “Okay, thanks anyway.”
(She goes back to her table, visibly upset. The husband returns to fill his drink, and I notice he is wearing an adult bib. They eat all their food with seemingly no complaints. They talk for a few minutes, and then the wife returns to the counter.)
Customer: “Excuse me, I’m having an allergic reaction. Is the manager around?”
Me: “Yes, ma’am. Let me go grab the owner for you.”
Owner: “What’s wrong, ma’am ?”
Customer: “My throat is itchy. I’m allergic to something in your food. Could you name the ingredients for me?”
Owner: *names every ingredient in the food she and her husband has eaten*
Customer: “I’m not allergic to any of that.”
Owner: “I’m sorry, ma’am, then you didn’t have an allergic reaction here.”
Customer: *becoming more angry by the second* “I said my throat is itchy and I’m having an allergic reaction! Don’t you care at all about your customers?”
Owner: “Would you like me to call an ambulance?”
Customer: “No! I’m fine! We were just leaving!”
(She pulled her husband out the door. He seemed indifferent to her “allergic reaction.” He even waved to us on the way out.)
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 9
Sandwich Shop | Right | June 24, 2016
(I work in a busy sandwich shop in a retail centre. It’s relatively quiet when a man and his two sons enter. They are regulars, but are usually rude. The father ignores us and plays with his phone while the kids order.)
Me: “And what salad would you like?”
Son #1 : *reels off salads* “…and onions. And [burger sauce].”
Me: *wraps his sandwich for him and hands it over before moving on*
(A few minutes after the father has paid, he storms back to the counter with Son #1 ’s sandwich.)
Father: “There are onions in here. He cannot eat onions. He is allergic!”
Me: *worried about the allergy* “I’m so sorry! Do you need me to call emergency services?!
Father: “What? No. He’s just allergic!”
Me: *I’m confused, but relieved more than anything* “Okay, I’m very sorry! I’ll make you a new one straight away.”
(I make the new sandwich as before, and ask the boy over to tell me his salad items again.)
Father: *storms up to counter* “He can have the sauce!”
Me: “The [burger sauce] contains onions so I’m not comf—”
Father: “Just give him the sauce!”
Me: *shrugs and puts the sauce on, adding extra when asked before wrapping the sandwich up*
Father: *snatches sandwich before I can bag it* “No onion! Was that so hard to understand?” *storms off again*
(They spent the rest of their meal glaring at me while I worked and left their mess all over the table, including the original sandwich they rejected. When I went to clean up, I find all of the onion had been removed from the sandwich and was nowhere to be seen.)
Pokémon Go To The Doctors
Finland, Medical Office, Pokemon | Healthy | November 15, 2017
(It is right around the time when Pokémon Go has come out. I take a fairly serious fall and injure my hip. When it doesn’t improve after a few days, I go to a doctor who specializes in sports injuries.)
Doctor: “How did you injure your hip?”
Me: “I fell off a stepladder.”
Doctor: “Oh, thank goodness! You’re the first patient I’ve had all week who didn’t injure themselves playing Pokémon Go.”
Enough To Make You Slap Your Forehead
Pharmacy, Sweden | Healthy | November 15, 2017
(I work at a pharmacy. A patient is complaining about a spray she had bought a couple of days ago.)
Patient: “It did absolutely not work! It is a nasal spray for sinusitis! Since it contains cortisone, it should work!”
Me: “How do you use it?”
(I ask, since the biggest problem with stuff like this is that you usually use maybe too little, too much, or just plain wrong. She looks at me, a little offended.)
Patient: *sounding annoyed* “Well, I use it as the description says! Two sprays once a day!”
(I think long and hard about how it couldn’t have made any difference for her.)
Patient: “Besides, it gets so messy, and it doesn’t dry quickly at all!”
Me: *can’t wrap my brains about what she meant* “Can you please explain?”
(She took out the spray with a annoyed sigh and held it up against her forehead. She had used the nasal spray on her forehead. I tried my absolute hardest not to laugh and explained as professionally as I could that the spray for sinusitis is to be sprayed in your nose, and not on your forehead.)
Man, What A Mistake!
The Netherlands, Vet | Healthy | November 14, 2017
(I am 18 years old and have recently moved out on my own and finally bought my very first pet, a golden hamster. I bring the hamster to the vet because I notice quite a large lump near the hind quarters and I want to check it out.)
Me: “Yes, see, the lump is quite big.”
Vet: “You mean here?”
Me: “Yes, I hope it is not serious.”
Vet: *nearly dying of laughter* “Those are his male genitals. He seems to be quite healthy.”
Me: “Oh, my god! I am so sorry! Really? The sales person at the store said she was a girl!”
Vet: “Well, it’s a healthy boy.”
Me: “I feel really stupid, but thanks!”
(Don’t worry for my hamster. He lived quite a healthy happy life until nearly three-and-a-half years old, even though he went through life named “Rose.”)
Ensuring The Insulin Is Insul-out
Hospital, Mississippi, USA | Healthy | November 14, 2017
(I work in the satellite pharmacy at my hospital. A triage technician is always on hand to answer calls and messages from doctors, nurses, and other pharmacists. It’s a difficult job that requires deft technicians: some of the calls they get raise issues that are difficult to resolve, and others are just plain goofy. D5W is short for a stock solution of 5% dextrose sugar in water.)
Triage Tech: *picking up the phone* “Pharmacy, how can I help you?” *pause* “No, ma’am, I don’t believe those two are compatible with each other. ” *pause* “What? No, no, I don’t actually know offhand if the drug would precipitate out or react with the D5W in any way. I could look that up for you, but in this case I really don’t think it’s necessary. ” *pause* “You’re asking me if you can add insulin to D5W” *pause* “You want to infuse your patient with both sugar and insulin at once. Just… please… don’t.”
Kindness In Death
England, Hospital, London, Non-Dialogue, UK | Healthy | November 14, 2017
I used to work in an oncology unit specialising in gastrointestinal cancers – the sort of thing that, by the time it got to us, all we could do was arrange for palliative treatment to make the time the patient had left longer and more comfortable. I handled phone calls from the patients and families, all of whom were obviously upset and as a result not as thoughtful as they might have been.
Sometimes, they had a right to be abrasive, though. One man whose mother needed an urgent chemotherapy booking had been left hanging for weeks, and the registrar who was supposed to be handling the booking hadn’t done anything despite the fact that her prognosis was dwindling all the time. Eventually, I got fed up; I grabbed the patient file and the documentation that he hadn’t signed yet, interrupted the consultant at lunch, stood over him until he checked and signed the document, delivered everything to the ward personally, and, apologising to the still-furious son of the patient, told him his mother had an appointment the following day.
Less than a month later, I got word that the patient in that story had died. Two days after that, reception told me that said patient’s son was on his way to my office. I was sure he was coming to berate me to my face… but when he turned up, it was with a small silk rose and a small box of chocolates. He told me that he wanted to apologise for losing his temper, and tell me how grateful he was for how hard I’d worked to see that his mother got proper care.
I am never going to forget the man who managed to be so thoughtful of someone else even with such a recent bereavement. It’s the yardstick to which I hold my behaviour to this day.
Getting Your Religion With Surgical Precision
Hospital, Religion, Texas, USA | Healthy | November 13, 2017
(I get a phone call from the hospital where I’ll be having outpatient surgery at in a few days. The nurse is asking me personal questions about my medical history, medicines, and gets to questions about religion. I’m atheist.)
Nurse: “Do you have any spiritual or religious objections that interfere with this surgery?”
Me: “No, ma’am.”
Nurse: “Do you go to church?”
Me: “No, ma’am.”
Nurse: *pauses* “Well, that’s okay. What religion are you?”
Me: “None.”
Nurse: “None?”
Me: “Yes, none. I’m atheist.”
Nurse: *takes long pause*
Me: “Are you there, ma’am?”
Nurse: “Do you need prayer?”
Me: “…what?”
Nurse: “Would you like prayer before the surgery?”
Me: “No…? I’m fine without prayer. But thanks.”
Nurse: “Have you ever been to church?”
Me: “Yes.”
Nurse: *long pause, then whispered* “Well, that’s okay.”
(We continued after that without any problems or weird pauses.)
When Patients Aren’t
Australia, Hospital, Non-Dialogue | Healthy | November 13, 2017
It’s a Friday night, and my dad has been really sick all week. It eventually gets to the point where he needs to go to the emergency room. Being a Friday night, the ER is relatively full.
Once he gets there, and speaks to the nurse, he is immediately given a wheelchair and taken straight through. The looks of disgust and just pure hatred he got from everyone in the waiting room was astonishing.
He had pneumonia, and had he arrived even an hour later, chances are he would have died.
Seriously, if someone is taken straight through at the emergency room, chances are their problems are probably worse than yours!
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Making A Point About The Time To Appoint
Hospital, USA | Healthy | November 13, 2017
(My doctor’s appointment is at two pm. The nearest bus stop is an hour from my house, so I have to catch a ride with my mom at seven am. Her work has a bus stop right next to it. By eleven am, I have finally made it to the hospital. I go to the front desk to check in.)
Me: “Hi! I know I’m early, sorry, but I can just wait.”
Nurse: *loud sigh* “I’ll see if I can have him see you earlier.”
Me: “No, it’s really fine. I ride the bus, so I’m always early because I’m afraid of being late. It’s fine. I’m sorry I’m so early.”
Nurse: “Just sit down.”
(I went to sit down and listened as she called the doctor. Even though I didn’t want her to, she fiddled with the schedule until the doctor could see me early. The vitals nurse and doctor told me how inconsiderate I was for wanting to be seen early. It is a miserable appointment.)
They’re Massaging The Truth
Chicago, Illinois, Spa, USA | Healthy | November 12, 2017
(Where I work the hands-on part of the massage is 50 minutes. There is a client who knows this, as I and others have told him several times, yet he always pretends to be surprised and mad about it. He has been coming in two or three times a month for over a year. It always goes something like this
Me: *after discussing what he wants worked on* “Okay, you can undress and start face down, I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”
Client: “A couple minutes?! Why? I’ll only be ten seconds! Don’t go anywhere.”
Me: “I need to return your file up front and wash my hands. I’ll be two minutes.”
Client: “I only need ten second to undress.”
Me: “Okay. I’ll see you in a couple minutes.” *closes door*
(Often when I’m in the break room washing my hands I can hear his voice out in the hall saying: “I’m ready! Hello? Hello?” I give him his 50 minutes hands-on massage, and end at, say, 6:55.)
Me: “Okay, thank you. I’ll go get you some water and—”
Client: “Done?! Already?”
Me: “I’m afraid so!”
Client: “Why?”
Me: “Well, that’s all of our time. I have another client at seven.”
Client: “Yes, so we have five more minutes.”
Me: “The hands on portion of our massage is 50 minutes.” *as you’ve been told several times, you idiot!*
Client: “Why?”
Me: “I’ll go get you your water and meet you in the hall.”
(He is sometimes grumpy when he meets me in the hall, or sometimes he thanks me and says he feels great. Either way, he always complains to the front desk that I ended five minutes early, and they always tell him that I did not and that he paid for a 50-minute hands-on massage!)
They Don’t Nose What They’re Doing
Hospital, Montana, Non-Dialogue, USA | Healthy | November 11, 2017
In a matter of two days, what I thought was a pimple in my nostril turned into something horrific. I wake up in the middle of the night to the entire lower half of my face swollen. I have a high fever. I have no choice but to venture to the ER.
The whole time the ER nurses are questioning me, I’m feeling condescended to. They seem to think that since I’m not in a great deal of pain that the swelling can be written off as basically nothing. They give me three pills to send me on my way. The next night the swelling is worse, I’m throwing up and in a great deal of pain. I return to the ER. They “lance” my nose but hardly try to get anything out. They give me more of the same pills and Percocet. They claim the swelling will go away in 24 hours and not to worry; it’s nothing serious.
My aunt and mother grow extremely concerned. My aunt calls around and finds a nose specialist/surgeon. I talk to him on the phone. He wants to see me immediately — also, it’s his day off! My mother ends up flying in because she is so worried. She makes it just in time and goes in the room with me to see the specialist. He takes one look at me and says, “We need to perform surgery immediately.”
He essentially had to cut open my nose, drain it, and put a tube in it. He got about a cup’s worth of infection out. After the surgery, he pulls my mother aside and asks what the emergency room tried to do help me to get better. To sum it up they essentially gave me the wrong type of medicine and overlooked my condition. He tells my mother that if I waited another couple days to see him I might have died. The infection could have traveled in my blood stream to my brain and become deadly. This happens frequently due to the location of the infection, and people die from ERs overlooking it.
You Walked Right Into That One
Hospital, Non-Dialogue, Oklahoma, USA | Healthy | November 10, 2017
My boyfriend is away on a trip for several days. On the first day, he scrapes his leg on something, but the cut isn’t deep and he doesn’t think anything about it. By the end of his trip, his leg is swollen, sore, and hot to the touch. When he gets home he can barely put weight on it, and once we get ice on it and the swelling goes down, we see that his calf muscle is knotted up, creating a huge ‘dent’ in his leg. Worried that it could be something like a blood clot, I insist on rushing him to the ER.
We get there, and my boyfriend insists on walking in, though I drop him off as close to the doors as I can, so he doesn’t have to limp too far. He almost doesn’t make it through signing all of the paperwork because standing hurts so much. We get to the back quickly, and a doctor sees us and states that they will do an ultrasound to rule out a clot. All good so far.
After the ultrasound tech leaves we wait. And wait. For about an hour.
Finally, a nurse comes in and asks if we’re ready to leave. After some confused glances, we point out that we were never given a diagnosis. The nurse apologizes, saying she thought we’d already spoken to the doctor because our paperwork was up for discharge, but she’ll go get him right away.
Okaaay…
The doctor comes in, tells us it isn’t a clot, and that it must be an infection. What kind of infection is not stated (they didn’t test to find out), and she bids us goodbye after stating that there will be a prescription for antibiotics for him at our pharmacy.
Then my boyfriend tries to get up… but can’t. After an hour and a half of having his leg elevated, bringing it below waist level is incredibly painful and he can’t manage it. Note: I am 5’3″ and 170 lbs; he is 6’4″ and 260 lbs. I cannot help him out alone.
I go out into the main hall and explain the situation to the doctor, and how we need some way to get my boyfriend up and out of the ER. He says, okay, we’ll get him some pain medication. Cool. Sounds like a plan. So we wait again.
For. Another. HOUR.
Finally, I venture out again and flag down a nurse. Guess what: THEY FORGOT WE WERE STILL THERE. Like, just completely forgot a patient was still in a room.
The nurse has to go flag down the doctor again, and I go back to the room. Not too long after, a new nurse comes in and hands my boyfriend a piece of paper. It’s a scrip for pain medication, to be filled at our pharmacy. So… you know… not helpful in the least with our current predicament.
We explain to the nurse the problem, and she responds, in the most condescending voice possible, ‘Well, you walked INTO the ER, so clearly you CAN walk.’
Both my boyfriend and myself are just stunned by the audacity of the statement. When he came in at triage he gave his pain as an eight. We are now telling them it has gotten worse, and the response we’re getting is basically ‘walk it off, p****.’
Attempts to reason with her are fruitless — she just repeats the same thing to us and even implies that we are being ungrateful for the better prescription for pain medicine (‘Originally, we were only prescribing you ibuprofen, but we were nice enough to write you this prescription, too’). After arguing in circles with her for a few minutes, my boyfriend builds up enough rage-adrenaline to heave himself out of bed and just grit through the pain, though he turns bright red in doing it. The nurse seems to take this as a victory and flounces off — no offer for a wheelchair or crutches, even just to get to the car.
On the way to the car we agreed that unless one of us is actively dying, we’re going to the next town over for ER care from now on.
Numb To Death
Hospital, Kansas, USA | Healthy | November 10, 2017
(Earlier this year I have cataract surgery on my right eye, and I am very nervous about it, never having had eye surgery before. The nurse knows this and is doing her best to keep me calm while waiting for the surgeon. Then this happens
You’re A Cabron
California, Hospital, USA, Wordplay | Healthy | November 10, 2017
(I, and two friends, go to visit a friend in the hospital. We know his room number, but it doesn’t correlate to the floor he is on, so we head back down to reception to find that out. When we get there, there are people ahead of us. One of them rips into the receptionist (who is in a security guard uniform) because they hadn’t been speaking English. At least half the population of Orange County speaks Spanish, if not natively, very fluently, like most of southern California. I offer my opinion
Me: “I think the basic problem here is that you’re an a**-hole.”
Man: “You think I’m an a**-hole because I think they should speak English?”
Me: “Yes. That’s why I think you’re an a**-hole.”
(He tries to offer up every racist justification in the book, and in reply to each one, I say
Me: “And you’re an a**-hole.”
(After about 30 seconds of being reminded just what part of the human anatomy he was, he got disgusted and left. I didn’t notice it at the time, but apparently the receptionist/security guard spent the entire time trying desperately not to laugh, and nearly succeeding. I sincerely hope she went home and told her family the story over dinner — in Spanish.)
Eminem Would Have Problems
Hospital, The Netherlands, Wordplay | Healthy | November 9, 2017
(I have just moved to the Netherlands, so my Dutch is not very strong and I generally hope nobody ever asks me questions. This leads to little problems, such as when becoming member of the local hospital
Receptionist: “Okay, that’s all set, now I just need your postal code and we’re done.”
Me: “Uh yes, it’s ‘1234AM’.”
Receptionist: “‘N’ for Nico or ‘M’ for Minnie?”
Me: “What?”
Receptionist: “The last letter. Is it an ‘N’ for Nico, or an ‘M’ for Minnie?”
Me: *slightly panicking from questions* “Right, yeah, M for Mico. That one.”
It’s A Gay Mole-Hunt
Bizarre, Doctor/Physician, Jerk, LGBTQ, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | November 9, 2017
(I have gone to the doctor about a mole I am suspicious of. I have spent close to five minutes with the doctor going over what seems different about it and showing her pictures of it before I noticed the change. I keep pictures of my moles because my mum was diagnosed earlier in life, and it has made me rather paranoid about them. The doctor has done nothing but listen, smile, and say, “Hmm…” every now and again. She stops me mid-sentence.)
Doctor: “Are you gay?”
Me: “What?”
Doctor: “Are you gay?”
Me: “Yes. Does that have something to do with my mole?”
Doctor: “No, it’s just that my family thinks my nephew might be gay, and I’m wondering if you want to help me find out.”
Me: *stunned* “No, I don’t. I want to find out whether my mole changing means I have cancer.”
Doctor: “That’s a shame. We really want to know.”
(She sits there not focusing on anything for a few seconds.)
Me: “My mole?”
Doctor: *sitting upright* “Look, will you help me or not?”
(I didn’t answer and left the room. I made a complaint before leaving and ended up signing with a new doctor. I got a letter from the old doctor apologising for her behaviour, but my mum tells me she still works there and is still trying to find out if her nephew is gay.)
Your Wisdom Is Toothless
Dentist, Massachusetts, USA | Healthy | November 9, 2017
(I am visiting an oral surgeon for the first time after getting a referral from my dentist for severe jaw pain that has been an issue for years.)
Me: “My jaw clicks when I open my mouth, and it hurts a lot if I try to keep my mouth open for a long time.”
Doctor: “Okay, let’s take some X-rays.”
(We take the X-rays and the doctor comes back to me.)
Doctor: “This issue is not something that I would recommend surgery for; it won’t fix the problem. But you do have impacted wisdom teeth.”
Me: “Okay, what would you recommend for the jaw pain? And I know the top right wisdom tooth has been causing me a lot of pain as well. I was going to get a referral for that.”
Doctor: “I won’t operate on your jaw for the jaw pain. It won’t help.”
Me: “Okay, but is there anything you can recommend that might help?”
Doctor: “I won’t do surgery unless I think it will help, and in this case it won’t help.”
(Repeat me asking for something besides surgery a few more times with the same answer.)
Doctor: “Okay, I’m going to see if we can get approval from the insurance for the wisdom teeth. You should hear back from us in a few weeks to schedule an appointment.”
(Fast forward a few weeks. I get a letter in the mail saying I have been approved to have three of my wisdom teeth removed, with no mention of the fourth (the only one that was bothering me). Never went back. Why would I trust someone to do surgery on me when they are incapable of listening to anything I said?)
That’s The Worst Tasting Peanut Butter Ever
California, Medical Office, Sacramento, USA | Healthy | November 8, 2017
(I’m working with the nephrologist at our clinic when I read an exchange between her and a lab tech in our EMR system.)
Lab Tech: “Patient was given a jug for collecting the 24-hour urine test but was unable to fit the total volume in the jug, so she put the rest in a peanut butter jar. Please re-order test as this is an unacceptable container and will have to be re-done. We will give her two jugs.”
Nephrologist: “Test re-ordered. Hopefully no more peanut butter jars this time…”
(The 24-hour urine test comes with patient instructions that say in big bold letters not to use any container but the jugs provided, and to get another jug if needed.)
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