Food for the body and soul

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.)



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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.)

Son #1 : *reels off his salads* “And onion.”

Me: *hesitates* “I’m sorry, but your father asked me not to add onions.”

Father: *from other side of restaurant* “NO ONIONS!”

Son #1 : *sighs* “Fine. But I want the [burger sauce]!”

Me: “I’m afraid that sauce has onions—”

Father: “NO ONION!”

Me: “—is there anything else I can offer you?”

Son #1 : “I just want the d*** [burger sauce]!”

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.)

Bad Behavior, Children, Hospital, Patients, USA | Healthy | December 17, 2018
(I’m a student who is doing a clinical rotation at the hospital. We have a mother who brings in her child and is adamant the child must have appendicitis because the child has a horrible bellyache. Everything is normal except the x-ray, which shows a huge amount of stool. We go in to let the mother know the child is just constipated, and she still insists it MUST be appendicitis. The nurse is telling the mother about how to prevent constipation and to increase fluids and fiber, etc. She is quite insistent that her child eats a wonderful diet and this couldn’t possibly be just constipation, and the doctor must be an idiot. It’s not long after Halloween and an idea forms. I ask the child

Me: “How much Halloween candy did you eat in the last two days?”

Child: *looks at me and whispers with a big smile* “All of it.”

(Yeah, a bunch of taffy, caramel, and other assorted junk will plug your child up.)

Making Waves About The Flags
Australia, Beach, New South Wales, Safety, Stupid | Healthy | December 15, 2018
(I am a lifeguard. I have a lady come up to me while I am standing between the red and yellow flags.)

Lady: “Where is the safest place to swim on the beach?”

Me: “Between the flags.”

Lady: “No, it isn’t; there are waves there.”

Me: “Yes, that’s normal for a beach.”

(She then points over to a current on the beach.)

Lady: “That is safer, as there are no waves.”

Me: “No, that’s the most dangerous part of the beach, because of the current.”

Lady: *starting to get mad* “I think I should know where is safe, as I’m a lifeguard in Europe!”

Me: “No, that is a very unsafe spot.”

Lady: “I’ll show you.”

(Despite my protests, she swims out to the current, and she ends up getting sucked out the back of the surf and we have to rescue her.)

Lady: “I thought it was safe there!”

(Make sure to swim BETWEEN the red and yellow flags when at the beach in Australia!)

There’s Really Only One Place It Could Be…
Hospital, Oregon, Patients, Portland, Silly, USA | Healthy | December 14, 2018
(I am in labor at the hospital. My midwife comes in to check how it is going and to feel the baby’s position for delivery. After feeling my belly she says

Midwife: “I cannot find the baby.”

Me: “Well, I am pretty sure that he didn’t come out yet, so he must be somewhere inside.”

Urine Need Of An Appointment
Doctor/Physician, Medical Office, Patients, The Netherlands | Healthy | December 13, 2018
(I am still a teenager when this happens. I’ve had several bladder infections, which took a while to diagnose because I am a man, “and men never get urine infections.” Luckily my GP and parents take me seriously after the final diagnosis, so if I feel it coming, I pee in a pot, take it to the GP, and he does the test and gives me the antibiotics. A cause has yet to be found. One day I wake up in immense pain. I suspect bladder infection, but I can hardly squeeze anything out. The result also looks different, and I immediately go to the GP with my parents and my little jar. I don’t have to wait for long, and when the GP sees the little jar, he gets ready for the normal tests. Then… he suddenly turns back and takes the jar.)

GP: “Wait… I officially have to test this, but please go to the hospital right away.”

Father: “What is wrong?”

GP: “It’s a bladder infection, I’m positive but…” *he shows the jar, which holds three separate layers of fluids* “This is blood, this is proteins, and this is urine. It’s not supposed to separate… at all. Please leave right away, while I test this.”

(When I reached the hospital, results were in, a bed was made ready, and I spent a week at the hospital with a very severe bladder infection. I still often feel bladder infections coming, but it turns out my body responds really well to cranberry juice, so I haven’t had any need for antibiotics ever since!)

This Joke Is On The Spectrum
Medical Office, Patients, Silly, USA | Healthy | December 12, 2018
I was diagnosed with Asperger’s when I was fourteen, and I’ve never really seen anything bad about it. I like to make jokes about having it sometimes, too.

Whenever I go to the doctor, I ask if I need any vaccines or shots at the time, and I distinctly remember one of my doctors making a remark on how I’m one of the only people who ask voluntarily. I was fifteen at the time and this doctor works usually with younger patients.

I calmly looked her in the eye and smiled brightly before saying, “I already have autism; what’s the worst that can happen?”

It wasn’t as funny as I thought it was when she assumed I actually thought that vaccines caused autism and started lecturing me.

OMG/YN
California, Health & Body, Parents/Guardians, Phone, USA | Healthy | December 11, 2018
(My dad is on the phone with me one day while I’m away at college. I’m in my late teens. English is not our first language, and as is the case most of the time with immigrants and their children, I have a much better knowledge of the language. He’s looking for a medical specialist to go to for some issue he has and is reading off a list to have me help him figure out what type of doctors they are.)

Dad: “It says this one is an anesthesiologist. What is that?”

Me: “That’s the doctor who puts you to sleep during surgery.”

Dad: “This one is a dermatologist.”

Me: “That’s a doctor who treats skin conditions.”

Dad: “Okay, this one is a nephrologist.”

Me: “They treat the kidneys.”

Dad: “Hmm…Let’s see… The next one is a Neurology doctor.”

Me: “They treat the brain and nervous system.”

Dad: “Okay… Oh, how about this one? It’s an OB/GYN. What is that?”

Me: “Uh… That’s… really not the right kind of doctor for you, Dad.”

(It’s worth noting here that I have a poor and very awkward relationship with my father, to the point that we’ve essentially not talked about anything personal in my entire life, and NEVER anything to do with sex.)

Dad: *in a curt and impatient tone* “What kind of doctor is it? What does OB/GYN mean?”

Me: *trying very hard not to be forced to say anything that would be extremely awkward for me* “That’s not the kind of doctor you’re looking for, Dad. I’m definitely sure about that.”

Dad: *suddenly snapping at me loudly and quite angrily* “I don’t care what you think! Just tell me what the h*** kind of doctor it is! I want to know what OB/GYN means, right now!”

Me: *startled and insulted* “Um, well, that’s… that’s a doctor who treats babies.”

Dad: *immediately calms down and pretends nothing happened, then goes on with asking about other doctors from the list* “Oh. Well. Okay, the next doctor is a….”

(I was very awkward back then about anything to do with sex, and very easily intimidated and bullied by my parents. Looking back on it now, I really wish I’d answered him with, “Well, Dad, that’s the doctor who treats vaginas and uteruses! You know, the doctor who looks into vaginas and then puts his hands into vaginas, and then puts all sorts of medical implements into vaginas! Vaginas vaginas vaginas vaginas! So, how about it? I guess I could have been totally wrong! Do you think that this could be the doctor you’re looking for – the doctor who treats vaginas?”)

It’s All Two Much
Hospital, Missouri, Non-Dialogue, Patients, Silly, USA | Healthy | December 10, 2018
I come into the hospital, 39 weeks pregnant with a single baby, due to a sudden headache, high blood pressure, and vomiting. It’s determined I’ve developed severe preeclampsia and need to be induced today.

Just about three hours after being admitted, the baby has moved for the fourth time, making it difficult to accurately monitor her heart rate. The doctor decides to have a monitor placed in utero on the baby to get a consistent reading.

The nurses tasked with placing the monitor are gathered at my legs, talking amongst themselves, prepping for the procedure. I’m foggy from the medicine and not really paying attention when a nurse says, “Oh, there’s two.” After having a minor panic attack, I catch the nurse’s attention and it turns out they had two of the monitors, but after talking about irregular heartbeats I thought somehow a second baby had shown up.

No One Ever Got Injured Eating Pizza
Canada, Health & Body, Home, Lazy/Unhelpful, Non-Dialogue, Ontario | Healthy | December 7, 2018
I’m a very lazy person by nature. I’ll get up and walk around if I feel like it, but I never really go out of my way to try and stay fit. I’m also notorious for hating every sport except for swimming, due to poor performances in gym class. As part of a co-op program for college, I end up staying with my marathon-running, fitness-nut uncle for a month. He is constantly offering for me to join him for workouts or trips to the gym, but I always decline, and he never pushes it. He just wants to be polite and offer to let me come along.

One day, I decide I want to try it, so I get his help setting up a workout routine. When I go back to college at the end of the program, I try it myself without supervision. I end up hurting my hip and have to stop, but after a week or two, I notice that the pain is not going away. It takes me two years to get a proper doctor’s appointment for this — my community is notorious for long waits to see doctors for anything — and I am diagnosed with a muscle tear in my right hip.

So, to sum it up, I hate sports, but the first time I do an actual workout to try and get myself into shape, I come away with what is commonly called a “sports hernia.” Everyone who found out laughed at the sheer irony of it.

Getting Medical Attention At Irregular Intervals
France, Hospital, Non-Dialogue, Reception, Stupid | Healthy | December 6, 2018
I was told by a previous doctor I had polycystic ovary syndrome. My period has always been irregular and I have often had hemorrhages for the last three years. I have not seen a gynecologist in over six years because of a bad experience with the last one, but I make an appointment with a different one to get it checked out. To make the story short, things go okay at my appointment, but for some reason my left ovary is nowhere in sight on the sonogram, so I have to get an MRI scan. When I call to make the appointment, I get asked why the doctor wants me to take an MRI scan. I tell the secretary I have irregular periods and the doctor could not find my left ovary on a sonogram. She tells me that I can’t be on my period for the scan, so she asks when my next is period due so she can put me in when I am not on my period. I tell her again that my period is irregular and I have no idea when the next will come. She stares at me for a few seconds, and then asks me when the last one was and asks me how long my cycle usually lasts. I know the date, but I tell her that it can be somewhere between 28 to 120 days.

A few second of blank stares later, she finally gives me an appointment and tells me yet again that I can’t be on my period for the scan.

How can a woman not understand what “irregular period” means?

Suffering From A Bad Case Of Bias
Canada, Doctor/Physician, Jerk, Medical Office | Healthy | December 5, 2018
(This takes place shortly after my 19th birthday. I want to get a tattoo, much to my parents’ dislike, but since I am an adult now, they relent and my father goes with me as I get it done. I get a Gallifreyan circle — from Doctor Who — on my left forearm. It comes out really nice and I love it. However, a few months later, when it is fully healed, I develop some little red bumps over the tattoo and the skin is very itchy. I think it’s a rash, but it doesn’t look serious. I go to my family doctor to check it out, since I rarely get rashes at all. For context, my doctor is originally from Germany, and she has a thick accent. She also doesn’t have any sense of humor and is really blunt, which makes it hard to talk to her sometimes. I go in for my appointment and show her my arm.)

Me: “I think I have a rash on my arm, but I don’t know how I got it. I don’t have allergies to anything, so I’m not sure what triggered it.”

Doctor: “When did you get the tattoo?”

Me: “In May, a few months ago.”

(It’s August now.)

Doctor: *cutting me off* “You’re allergic to tattoo ink. No more tattoos.”

Me: *thinking* “If I’m allergic to the ink, wouldn’t I have had a reaction immediately?” *out loud* “Are you sure? It’s been a good amount of time since I got it, and I didn’t have a reaction when it was healing.”

Doctor: “You’re allergic to tattoo ink. You can’t get any more tattoos. You’re lucky you came in now; it could have developed into something worse. “

Me: “If I got this rash right after getting the tattoo, I would agree with you. But it’s been about three months, and it’s fully healed. Is there any possibility it could be something else?”

Doctor: “You’re not listening to me. You. Are. Allergic. To. The. Ink. Do not get any more tattoos. And don’t get any more piercings, either.”

(I only have my ears and nose pierced, but I don’t know why that mattered since they also healed fine. I was skeptical, but didn’t push it further. She prescribed a rash cream and said to use it until it clears up, or come back to see her if it doesn’t. I decided to call the tattoo shop I went to to ask them about it, which I now know I should have done in the first place! They told me not to worry, since it was fully healed, and it wasn’t a typical allergic reaction, especially months later. I used the cream and the rash was completely gone about a week later. I now have four tattoos, and have never developed another rash. Allergic, indeed!)

A Needling Suspicion Of What Happened
Bad Behavior, Dentist, North Carolina, USA | Healthy | December 4, 2018
(Thanks to starting a new job, I am finally able to afford to go to a dentist for the first time in five years. After the x-rays, it is determined that I have a cavity in between two molars, so I’ll need to be numbed. My last dentist, who was a pediatric dentist, had a habit of practically stabbing the needle into my gums, so when the hygienist towards me with the syringe, I instinctively grip the chair’s armrests.)

Dentist: “Are you okay?”

Me: “Just fine; I just don’t have good experiences with dentists and needles. But I can deal with it.”

(The dentist and hygienist exchange a concerned look and administer the shot. Instead of a jab, I barely feel a pinch. While we wait for it to take effect, we just make small chat.)

Dentist: “[My Name], you said your last dentist was a pediatric dentist, correct?”

Me: “Yeah, I think I was 15 or 16 when I last saw them. I had to get sealants on my back molars.”

Dentist: “Did they numb you?”

Me: “Yeah, only on one side, though. When they numbed me on the left, I swore the needle nearly hit bone, so I begged them not to numb the other side.”

Dentist: “And they listened?”

Me: “Yup, it hurt less than the needle.”

Dentist: *pause* “Was your dentist, by chance, the one whose practice is at [Location Downtown]?”

Me: “Yes?”

Dentist: “Dear God, no wonder we got so many of his patients when we opened.”

Doctors Without Diagnoses
Doctor/Physician, Georgia, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, USA | Healthy | December 3, 2018
(I get a strange painful lump that shows up while I’m pregnant. The doctor tells me not to worry and that it will go away after birth. Six months postpartum, I go to get it checked out again. The doctor tells me to give it more time to heal. Eight months postpartum, I go to a GP to get it checked out, because I’m still in pain and tired of being blown off. I’m quickly diagnosed with a hernia. As I’m getting ready for surgery

Me: “I wish my doctor had just told me he couldn’t do anything and told me to go see someone else.”

Nurse: “Well, that would have meant having to put aside his ego; doctors don’t like to do that.”

Now I Know My XYZ-Packs
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | December 2, 2018
(The urgent care doctor says my test results for flu and strep are negative. She prescribes anti-nausea medication and wants to put me on antibiotics for ten days. I have some complicated gut issues, and I explain that the last time I was put on antibiotics, my stomach was messed up for weeks.)

Doctor: “There aren’t any antibiotics you can tolerate?”

Me: “I really don’t know. I could try taking them, but if I get sick, I can’t stop taking them until the bottle is empty, right?”

Doctor: “Oh, I will just give you the five-day Z-Pack, then.”

Me: *trying not to ask her if she’s stupid* “Isn’t the Z-Pack stronger, since it’s used for only a few days?”

Doctor: *lightly and carelessly sighs as she responds* “Oh, yeah…”

On Fine Form To Fill Out The Form
Australia, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, Patients | Healthy | November 29, 2018
(I work in a medical clinic.)

Me: “If you could fill out this CT form for me, please.”

Patient: “I’ve done this before.”

Me: “Lovely. You should know all the answers, then.”

Knowing No Peace With Her For A Niece
Australia, Babysitting, Funny, Home, Jerk, Nieces & Nephews, Non-Dialogue | Related | April 22, 2022
Because of the large age difference between me and my brother, my niece is significantly older than my own son. While normally having a default babysitter is a blessing, it would be better if she didn’t remember my own behaviour as a young twenty-something and wasn’t egged on by her dad seeking revenge for when I was her babysitter.

When my son was a toddler, he had an intolerance for dairy, and therefore wasn’t allowed ice cream. She got him sherbet.

When my son was struggling with his reading, I said he wasn’t allowed to watch Pokémon until he read at least two books on weekends. She got him the Pokémon novel set.

When there was a heatwave, I said my son wasn’t allowed to play outside because he’d already gotten heatstroke twice. She took him to the ice skate rink.

When I had to take back my promise to take them both to the movies because I was stuck working multiple shifts in a row, she took him to watch the latest Marvel movie without me. (And then they both spoiled the whole thing for me.)

When I tried to block naughty websites, my son worked out how to bypass my nanny filter. She blocked the sites for both of us.

I grounded my son because he wasn’t participating in English class. She showed him how to find the “inappropriate” jokes in Shakespeare’s plays. Now he participates too much.

My son is now nearly an adult. He is considering becoming a lawyer. It’s her fault, I’m sure.

Seven-Foot Frame, Rats Along His Back… Wait…
Funny, Home, Parents/Guardians, Pennsylvania, Silly, Step-Parents, USA | Related | April 20, 2022
My parents are given, as something of a joke, a life-size cardboard cutout of a certain former President of the United States. After having it in the living room for a couple of weeks and thoroughly amusing everyone who sees it, they put it in their basement, where I at least forget about it entirely.

A year or so later, my best friend and I go to the hardware store and pick up salt tablets for my parents’ water softener. We bring them into the garage, which has a secondary entrance to the basement, and I go to open the door and turn on the light. I promptly scream and run out again.

A moment later, my stepfather — whose home office is adjacent to the garage — bursts through his door looking alarmed.

Stepdad: “Are you all right?!”

Me: *Embarrassed* “Yeah…”

Stepdad: “What happened?”

Me: “We got the tablets for your water softener. I went to open the basement door and Donald Trump scared me.”

He cracked up laughing and went back to work. Apparently, the same thing happens every time they have someone come and work on their heating system.

Sure, Blame The Baby
College & University, Family & Kids, Grandparents, Jerk, Non-Dialogue, UK, Wales | Related | April 19, 2022
I’m kind of a pet peeve for Grandpa. He doesn’t like me. Like, at all.

You’d think it’s because I was born out of wedlock, but no. It’s because he insists that if it weren’t for my birth, Dad could have done way better in his A-levels and not have gone to what he calls a “garbage university”.

Back when they were teenagers in boarding school, Dad and Mom accidentally got pregnant with me. Mom didn’t find out she was pregnant until literally three weeks before my birthday. I’ve seen the photos, and yes, Mom really didn’t look like she was pregnant. Sure, she put on a bit of weight, but I was born in spring. It just looked like the regular Christmas and New Year weight gain.

As for the other symptoms — morning sickness, mood swings, and the like — both my parents were studying for their A-levels. They were way too stressed out to realise.

And thus, Mom gave birth to me, when she and Dad were both international students half a world away from home and their families — a pair of clueless nineteen-year-olds saddled with a newborn daughter to raise less than 100 days before the A-levels.

They both achieved straight As and got their courses of choice: medicine for Dad, computer science for Mom.

Both of them also raised me rather successfully (though not without their fair share of bumbling mishaps) while being full-time students in a foreign country three continents away from home.

Also, that “garbage university” they both went to? Birmingham University.

And Grandpa still claims that Dad could have done better if he “hadn’t wasted time looking after a kid.”

I swear, there just isn’t pleasing some people.