Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 10
Bigotry, Call Center, Jerk, USA | Right | January 14, 2021
I work for a store that sells purely electronics and I’m female.
Customer: “I need to speak to someone in electronics who’s not you.”
I roll my eyes but continue.
Me: “Sure, what is your question?”
Customer: “No I need someone in electronics!”
Me: “Yes, sir. I just need to know your question so I can get you to the right department in the store.”
Customer: “I need electronics! Get me someone who knows what they’re doing. Unlike you.”
I’m done and I drop the Customer Service voice.
Me: “We are an electronics store. It’s all we sell. Without knowing what you need, I can’t help you or get someone to help you. What do you need?”
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 9
Bigotry, Glasgow, Instant Karma, Retail, Scotland, UK | Right | December 6, 2020
I work in a car and bike part store. I am female and all my coworkers are male. The manager and I are standing at the back of the store.
Customer: *To me* “Can you please tell me where the car bulbs are?”
Me: “Of course, sir. They’re just over there.”
Customer: “Thanks.”
He brings out a small tool and turns to show it to my manager.
Customer: “Mate, could you tell me what sort of fitting I would need for this part?”
My manager knows the answer but is unable to believe how blatant the guy is.
Manager: “Sorry, no idea. You’ll need to ask my colleague.” *Points at me*
This sort of thing happened all the time. Special shout-out to all my guy teammates who would always plead ignorance and send sexist customers back to me!
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 8
Bigotry, Hotel, Jerk, UK | Right | November 9, 2020
We are a small city-centre boutique hotel — nothing fancy, just a cute room. We do have a lot of reviews about our customer service.
I’m checking a guest in who only has a backpack for a week’s stay. About halfway through the check in, I spot two large suitcases on the CCTV outside the front door. This is a city centre and not a nice one, so I get a bit worried.
Me: “Sir, are those your bags outside?”
Customer: “Yes.”
Me: “Sir, you need to go and get them before someone else grabs them.”
Customer: “Your bellboy will grab them.”
Me: “Sir, it is only me tonight; we do not have a bellboy.”
Customer: “They are heavy; you need to tell him to lift with his knees.”
I realise he’s not listening so I check him in and run outside to grab the bags. Heavy is an understatement, but in my dress and heels, I lug it all the way to the elevator — which is awkwardly round the back of the building — and to his room. I knock two separate times before he answers.
Me: “Hi there. I’ve brought your bags for you!”
Customer: “You’re a girl.”
Me: “Yes, sir.”
He’s made no move for the bags so I take them into his room.
Customer: “You weren’t meant to get the bags.”
Me: “Sir, I explained I was the only one on duty tonight. I thought that meant you were okay with me grabbing them?”
Customer: “Women shouldn’t lift heavy bags. Especially my bags. In heels.”
Me: “Well, sir, they’re here now, as long as you’re happy—”
He shut the door in my face. Turned out he was from a country where women don’t do hard labour or work in jobs where interacting with men or touching their things. Luckily, I wasn’t on in the morning as he called down to reception and requested a man grab his bags. It was my female colleague on her own, and again, he screamed like a toddler when he saw her moving them.
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 7
Bigotry, Canada, Electronics Store, Ontario | Right | October 5, 2020
Customer: “Do you have any guys working who can help me with a computer?”
Me: “No, but I have a girl working who can help you with a computer.”
Customer: “No guys, eh?”
Me: “Nope, there are only three of us working tonight, and we’re all girls. [Sales Associate] is the sales associate tonight, so I’ll get her for you.”
Customer: “Oh, yeah, I saw her already; she doesn’t know anything.”
Me: *Confused* “She doesn’t?”
Customer: “Well, I don’t know. I didn’t actually talk to her.”
Me: *Screaming internally* “I’ll get her for you.”
The sales associate comes up.
Customer: “You don’t know anything about Macs, do you?”
Sales Associate: “Of course, I do!”
Customer: “…Oh.”
The girl answered his question and got him the item he needed to solve his problem.
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 6
Auto Shop, Bigotry, Impossible Demands, Norway | Right | August 17, 2020
I’m a female tire fitter, which is a profession highly dominated by male workers. I get a lot of comments about being a female, mostly good, but then you have the a**holes. The receptionist tells me to open up the garage for a customer; I start to guide the elderly gentleman in. When he stops the car, I open the door for him.
Me: “Hello, sir, will you please put the gear in neutral and the emergency brake off for me?”
Customer: “No!”
Me: “…”
Customer: “You don’t even know what you are doing! Don’t touch my car!”
Me: “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand. Are you not here for new tires?”
Customer: “Yes, but you don’t touch it! Why the f*** are you here?! Women have no business being in a garage! Their brains are the same size as a chicken’s brain!”
Me: “…”
I don’t know what to do with myself; I have never experienced anything like this before. The only people here are me and a male rookie, and it’s his first day in the garage. The customer points at my trainee.
Customer: “He is going to change my tires!”
Me: “Sir, this is his second day; he has never changed tires on his own before.”
Customer: “I want him! You will not touch anything!”
The customer had already paid for his new tires, and this was the first time I had encountered anything like this. Not knowing what else to do, I guided my terrified rookie in how to do everything, under the scrutinizing stare of the customer who yelled every time it looks like I was about to touch anything.
Later, when the boss came back to work, we told him what happened. He got so angry, he told me that if he had been there he would have kicked that guy out so quickly his head would have spun around!
Thankfully, I’ve never encountered anyone as bad as him again, but I do have more stories, for sure!
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 5
Bigotry, Kansas, Tech Support, USA | Right | July 15, 2020
I am currently the only female technician at our small call center.
Me: “Thank you for calling [Company] help desk. May I get your phone number, please?”
The caller is also female.
User: “Yes, I need to talk to tech support.”
Me: “You’ve reached us! Can I get your phone number?”
User: “You are a technician?”
Me: “Yes, ma’am. What is your phone number, so I can get your account pulled and we can get started?”
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 4
Bigotry, Canada, Government Office | Right | January 15, 2020
(I work for a central answering point for a municipality. We answer for almost every department in the city. I am female and sit beside a male; we both have the exact same job description, but he is about twenty years older than I am. I wish I could say this doesn’t happen very often but sadly it does, even with female callers.)
Me: *answers phone with standard greeting*
Caller: “I need to talk to an engineer!”
(This usually means they want to talk to a man.)
Me: “Okay, what is it regarding?”
Caller: *sighs and asks a standard question we are trained to answer*
Me: *gives proper response*
Caller: “No, that can’t be right! Let me talk to an engineer!”
Me: “Okay, please hold.” *transfers to my male coworker less than three feet away*
Coworker: *listens and gives the exact same answer as I did*
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 3
Auto Shop, Bigotry, Colorado, Denver, Instant Karma, Stupid, USA | Right | January 1, 2020
(I am a parts saleswoman at a large auto parts store. Often, I get flak from customers — mostly older men — who assume that because I have boobs and am in my 20s, I know nothing about cars, particularly vintage vehicles. I’m a vintage American muscle enthusiast, so I have extensive knowledge in the area. A customer walks in one evening, sees me, and immediately demands that he wants to talk to “one of the guys.” I inform him that my coworker is changing a battery in the parking lot and may be a while, but I would be more than happy to assist him.)
Customer: “Fine, but you can’t help me. 1967 Mustang.”
Me: “Okay, what is the engine size?”
Customer: “It’s a 350.”
Me: “Oh, it’s got a Chevy motor?”
Customer: “No, it’s a Ford engine.”
Me: “So, it’s the 351?”
Customer: *angrily* “No. It’s a d*** Ford, so it’s got a d*** Ford 350 engine! Look it up!”
Me: “Sir, there’s no such thing as a Ford 350. Ford has a 351, so unless you swapped it for a Chevy 350, that’s what your Mustang has. Common misconception.”
Customer: “You don’t think I know what engine my Mustang has in it? It’s a d*** 350, so find me parts for a 350!”
(I ended up selling him the parts for a Chevy 350 since he wouldn’t shut up. Lo and behold, two days later he showed back up during my shift and rather sheepishly admitted that he was mistaken and his Mustang did, in fact, have a 351. I sold him the correct parts and never saw him or his Mustang ever again.)
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 2
Bigotry, Home Improvement, Jerk, USA | Right | October 10, 2019
(I am female and I work at a major home improvement store in the paint department. My manager is mixing paint for a male guest as a lady approaches the desk.)
Customer: *carrying two adhesives* “So, I need an adhesive that will work for [project].” *holds out items to me while looking at male guest* “Are these what I want?”
Me: “Yes, that will work perfectly for [project].”
Customer: *doesn’t respond but continues to stare at male guest*
Male Guest: *looks at me then back at the lady, then nods his head uncomfortably in agreement with me*
Customer: *returns attention to me* “Thanks, I guess.” *walks away*
Manager: “Did she really just ask the male guest whether or not [adhesive] will work instead of asking you?”
Me: “Yep! Welcome to being a young female in home improvement!”
The Only Reaction We’re Having Is Annoyance
Health & Body, Patients, Stupid, Tennessee, USA, Vet | Healthy | November 9, 2018
(I work for a 24-hour emergency vet. It’s about one am; I usually get strange calls at this time of night.)
Client: “Hi. I was putting some flea medication on my dog and I think I’m having a reaction to it.”
Me: *thinking I misheard her* “Oh, he’s having a reaction to it?”
Client: “No, I am! My hands are breaking out, and I think my throat is getting tight.”
Me: “Oh! I’m sorry; you’ve called an animal emergency hospital!”
Client: “I know. You guys know what I need to take to fix it right?”
Me: “No, ma’am, you need to call 911 or go to your local emergency room; we only treat pets here.”
Client: “Well, that’s okay. If you guys treat pets, you know what I can take, right? I really wasn’t planning on going anywhere tonight; just tell me what medication you give to pets and I’ll just take a larger dose of it.”
Me: “Ma’am… I’m sorry, but we can’t give medication advice over the phone for pets, and we definitely can’t for people! You need to call 911 or go to the emergency room!”
Client: “You’re just being no help. Do you have a number I can call a different animal hospital? I don’t have Internet, so I can’t look up anything.”
Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t give you another number for an animal hospital that’s open right now, but I would gladly give you directions to the emergency room closest to you! You definitely need to go to a hospital for people if you’re having a reaction, not animal hospitals.”
Client: “Fine, y’all are just no help! You know, you really should give better advice to people when they call; you are a hospital, you know! I guess I’ll just have to go to the hospital down the road and see if they can help me. I’m never calling you again!” *click*
(I was so mind-blown I had to sit and collect myself for a few minutes. She sounded like a normal, middle-aged woman, so I hope it was a prank call, but unfortunately I don’t think it was.)
Depression And Anxiety Are Not The Best Diets
England, Jerk, Medical Office, Nurses, UK | Healthy | November 8, 2018
(My doctor’s surgery does an annual check-up with the practice nurse for all patients with long-term conditions. I go to mine.)
Nurse: “You’ve lost 13 kg since we last saw you!”
Me: *sarcastically* “Yeah, depression and anxiety is an amazing diet.”
Nurse: “Your weight and BMI are well within the guidelines now.”
Me: “Oh, um, great.”
Nurse: “Do you want me to refer you to [Famous Weight Loss Club]?”
Doctors Follow The Same Old Tired Formula
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | November 6, 2018
(I give birth to my son, and through some great support from my local breastfeeding support group, I’m able to successfully breastfeed him without supplementing with formula. When he is eight months old, I visit the paediatrician for a check-up.)
Doctor: “What formula does he have?”
Me: “He is breastfed.”
Doctor: “What milk does he have?”
Me: “Breast milk.”
Doctor: *sighing irritably* “WHAT FORMULA DOES HE HAVE?”
Me: *confused* “He doesn’t drink formula; he is breastfed.”
Doctor: “Okay, okay. What follow-on milk does he have?”
Me: “He doesn’t; he drinks breast-milk.”
Doctor: *glares at me as if I’m being difficult* “What… yogurt-y drinks does he have?”
Me: “HE… IS… EXCLUSIVELY… BREASTFED!”
(The doctor slammed the notes shut with irritation, and then blinked at me when he realised my son had been feeding this whole time!)
Not Ball-Bustingly Funny, But It’ll Do
Doctor/Physician, England, Hospital, Patients, Punny, Silly, UK | Healthy | November 1, 2018
(I have been diagnosed with testicular cancer and will have to have one of my testicles removed. I am meeting with the consultant who has run a few tests and has now given me the date of the surgery: the following Monday. It has been a bit of a bureaucratic nightmare to get this point.)
Consultant: “And I’m sorry again that it has taken so long to get to this point, but now that we’ve got the ball rolling—”
Me: *grinning* “Pun intended?”
(The consultant realised what he said, and both he and the nurse laughed. Later he told me he’d had other cancer patients that day who had — understandably — been very upset, and it was nice to see someone dealing with it with humour. The surgery has gone well and I’m making a good recovery!)
Our Deepest Condolences
Atlanta, Children, Georgia, Hospital, Non-Dialogue, Patients, USA | Healthy | October 29, 2018
I have been a part of the Not Always Right community for a few years now. This past year, three of my submitted stories have been published: “With A Mother Like That, Pain Tolerance Is Through The Roof,” “Already Has A Big Baby To Look After,” and “Not The Formula For A Successful Doctor.” For those that aren’t familiar, I went into labor at 29 weeks, and gave birth to a beautiful little girl.
My daughter spent 70 days in the NICU. She was released to come home mid-September, with no extra care other than a multivitamin. She was happy, healthy, and so fiercely loved.
After a month of being home, I woke up at about six in the morning with a sinking feeling. I immediately checked on her in her crib, and she was gasping, struggling to breathe. I woke up my partner, and we were going to rush her to the urgent care down the road. As I was getting in the car with her, she stopped breathing completely and went limp. Her father began performing CPR as the NICU had taught us. I called 911.
A firetruck and couple of cops arrived, and paramedics got out and took over. My partner and I were pulled away and gave statements. After a few minutes, an ambulance showed up, and my baby was loaded in and taken away. One of the paramedics offered me a ride to the hospital, and I took it.
When I arrived at the same hospital where she was born, they had managed to restart her heart. They allowed me to watch and touch her while they hooked her up to machinery, and another nurse kept her breathing with a squeeze bag.
They flew my daughter to Children’s Health Care, one of the best hospitals in the nation; think Ronald McDonald house.
My partner picked me up from the local hospital, and we drove an hour to see her at Children’s. We waited for three hours before a couple of doctors pulled us away into a private room.
They told us that she was stable; however, CPR had been performed for more than 20 minutes before she came back. Without oxygen to the brain for three or four minutes, brain cells begin to die and swell. Our daughter was unresponsive, and the doctor predicted that her heart would stop again, and told us that the merciful thing would be to refuse resuscitation. He gave it a day, maybe hours. We asked for resuscitation, anyway; if there was any chance at all, we’d take it.
My daughter made it through the day, and even through the night. Her heart was beating, but she was on max medication, and a ventilator was breathing for her. She was still unresponsive, but the nurses continued to take care of her — and us. We spent the night on the couch in her room. The nurses were absolutely wonderful.
The next morning, the doctor sat down with us and stated that he believed our 14-week-old baby’s brain was non-functional; she was brain dead.
Later that afternoon, he performed what is called a brain dead test, basically dotting Is and crossing Ts on paperwork. While still supplying oxygen, they turned off the ventilator to watch for a breath; her brain should have sent this signal. Ten minutes went by. She didn’t breathe.
At this point, she couldn’t tolerate the test, and they tried to turn the ventilator back on. Her vitals were too out of whack.
Three months after she entered this world so suddenly, she passed away peacefully in our arms.
We are so thankful to every nurse and paramedic, and everyone that helped to take care of our little girl — and us — through this impossible ordeal. These people are angels sent from heaven. My baby girl will never be forgotten.
We love you, River Madeline. You will always be in our hearts.
You’ll Stress-Knit A Whole Outfit At This Point
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Massachusetts, Medical Office, Psychiatrist, USA | Healthy | August 1, 2018
(I’m waiting to see my psychiatrist for a medication check-up. This office schedules meds appointments in fifteen-minute blocks; they’re a quick in-and-out to make sure the meds are working before the prescription is refilled. I arrive five minutes before my appointment and am told I’m seeing a new doctor. I’m a little annoyed that they didn’t tell me this when the appointment was being set up — my father works in the mental health field and I’m uncomfortable being seen by his coworkers — but whatever; maybe my regular doctor is out sick. So, I go to the waiting room. And wait. And wait. At twenty minutes past my appointment time — so, five minutes after it is supposed to be over — I hear the receptionists chatting. They say something about the new doctor having computer problems. Okay, stuff happens. Forty minutes past my appointment time, the person who is waiting before me gets into a shouting match with the receptionists about how late things are running. I’m frustrated too, but an extra person yelling won’t change anything, and I have plenty of time, so I keep waiting. Finally, fifty minutes after my scheduled time, a harried-looking man calls my name and introduces himself as the doctor. I’m expecting him to apologize for the delay, or offer an explanation, or anything. Nope. He doesn’t say a word until we get to his office. Now my appointment starts in earnest.)
Doctor: “So, do think you’re depressed?”
Me: *pause* “This appointment is literally to treat my diagnosed depression, so, um, yeah.”
(He doesn’t respond at all to this. He doesn’t even look at me. He has a walking desk, so he’s power-walking in place while he types on his computer. And he keeps typing. For almost ten minutes. I almost stand up and walk out. But I’ve already been here forever, I don’t want to have to do this all again, and I need my meds refilled. So, I take out my knitting and work on that for a bit.)
Doctor: “Do you want to keep taking [Medication #1 ] and [Medication #2]?”
Me: “Yes, please.”
(He types for a few more minutes.)
Doctor: “I’ve sent in the prescriptions for those. I’ll see you again in five months.”
Me: “Thank you.”
(I get up to leave.)
Doctor: “Wow! You’re so fast at knitting! What are you making?”
Me: “A sweater. Bye.”
(I was at that office for over an hour, but in the appointment for less than fifteen minutes. He said almost nothing to me, and half of what he did say was about knitting. And when I went to the pharmacy, only one of the prescriptions had actually been sent over!)
No Spoonful Of Sugar Is Helping This Medicine Go Down
Bad Behavior, Florida, Jerk, Patients, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | July 31, 2018
(When you come to pick up a prescription, I have to make sure it’s going to the right person or I get written up and, if I get written up enough times, lose my job. This particular pharmacy asks that we verify the address on file, but if they don’t know it, I’ll usually take some other manner of verification if necessary. It’s late, and there’s an hour and a half left to go of a seven-hour day, and all I want to do is go home, so I admit I’m a bit tired. A guy comes up who couldn’t be more than 22, I’d guess, and I smile and go to the register, asking him who he’s picking up for.)
Guy: “My girlfriend.”
Me: “Okay. What’s her name?”
Guy: “[First Name].”
(I need a last name in particular to search, and unfortunately most of the younger crowd usually never give their last name unless prompted. I have no idea why.)
Me: “What’s her last name?”
Guy: “[Last Name].”
(I go over to get it, which doesn’t take long, and return.)
Me: “And what’s her address, please?”
(He gives me this look like I’ve told him that the sky is green or that he’s standing on his head.)
Guy: “I’ve picked up before and they’ve never, ever asked me for her address before.”
(Then he clearly hasn’t picked up for her before at this pharmacy, because we always ask for the address. I say it so often that even when I’m doing things that don’t require it, I sometimes end up saying the words. Sometimes I end up asking them their address before I ask their name, before I can stop myself.)
Me: “Um… We always ask for the address.”
Guy: “No one has ever asked me before!”
Me: “Well, sometimes if you don’t know it, we’ll try another way to verify. Do you know it?”
Guy: “No!”
Me: “Okay, what’s her date of birth?”
(That, he knows. He tells that to me and I’m assured that I have the right person. A new law was passed in July that on certain types and classes of medicines, I now have to ask for a form of ID and enter it into the computer. What he’s picking up falls into that class.)
Me: “I need to see your ID, please.”
Guy: “Why?”
Me: “It’s the law as of the first of July. I have to have an ID.”
Guy: “Does that mean I have to get hers from the car?”
Me: “No, I need yours, since you’re picking it up.”
Guy: “But… does that mean I have to get hers?”
Me: “Um… No. I need yours.”
Guy: “I don’t have mine.”
Me: “Then she has to come in and pick it up.”
Guy: “Why can’t I just go get hers and give it to you?”
(Now I can understand his hesitancy. There’s a big storm that has been going on all day, but neither weather nor annoying teenagers are going to make me break the law.)
Me: “Because it’s her license. Whatever license I have has to be for the person picking up. It’s the law.”
(We go back and forth about this for another minute, to the point that my pharmacist has to come over and back me up, telling him that we have to follow all rules and regulations, and if it’s her license, it has be her. He finally goes out to get her and comes back in. I think this is a wonderful opportunity to do my job right now that she’s here.)
Me: “What’s your address?”
Girl: *throws her ID on the counter* “On file.”
Me: *blink*
(I’ve never had a customer refuse to give their address. Sometimes they’ll pretend to give me a hard time or forget some of the numbers, but I’ve never had someone give me a smart a** remark about it being “on file,” because most have the intelligence to realize that there’s a reason I’m asking for it and it’s most certainly not to hear myself talk. I want to keep my job.)
Me: “I’m sorry; we ask that for verification. If you don’t know yo—”
Girl: *interrupts snottily* “I know my address. It’s [address].”
(She picked up her license from the counter and proceeded to throw it again. I decided I’d had enough of dealing with the twat that was clearly just too lazy to come in and sent her boyfriend in for her, since I could see no legitimate reason for her not to come in besides the rain. And part of me wanted a little bit of revenge for these people half my age giving me a hard time, so I took my time, every bit of it that I could, prolonging the transaction just because they were antsy. As they left, she shot me a glare, snatched up her prescription, and then went to the industrial scale nearby that people use to measure weight and proceeded to jump up and down on it once or twice before leaving.)
Suffering Bad Pet Owners
Bad Behavior, Maryland, Pets & Animals, USA, Vet | Healthy | July 30, 2018
(I work the front desk in a highly recommended vet hospital that has both appointments with doctors and a walk-in emergency service. Emergency visits are always a trip. A young man walks in, carrying his dachshund mix. He tells me that his dog is having respiratory distress, so I take her back to see the doctor first before getting his information. It turns out that the dog has been having breathing troubles for two days. The doctor is not impressed with that info and, with client approval, takes some x-rays to see what might be going on internally. It’s cancer, a lot of cancer in all of the places. The dog is not comfortable outside of oxygen, so the vet goes to talk to the owner to explain that euthanasia is the only humane option. By this point, the owner’s father has come to join him and has brought his own dog. He is handling the dog very roughly and occasionally whacks the dog lightly with the end of the leash when he thinks the dog is misbehaving.)
Father: “Vets just want to take your money! Don’t worry, [Dog], they’re not going to see you. This is where dogs come to die.”
(He is making other clients uncomfortable, so I warn the ER doctor as she goes in to speak with them. The client is understandably shocked and upset, but the father is whole other matter.)
Father: “We’re not ready to put her down yet. Can you give us meds to keep her comfortable for another week?”
Vet: “Sir, she isn’t comfortable at all outside of oxygen. It would be against medical advice to take her out of oxygen and take her home.”
Father: “I’ll take her out of oxygen if I want to! It’s not like she’s suffering!”
(The vet was literally so angry she had to leave the room because yes, this dog was suffering! The father continued to be resistant, but the client agreed that it was in her best interest to euthanize her immediately, and handled the rest of the visit like a rational adult.)
After Hours Is After You
Impossible Demands, Medical Office, Patients, Texas, USA | Healthy | July 29, 2018
(I work for a company that takes hospital calls and after-hours calls for doctor’s offices. The majority of our doctors DO NOT take certain type calls after office hours, and only specific doctors can be called. Some patients refuse to acknowledge that and only make themselves look the bigger fool. It is late on a Friday.)
Me: “Hello! You’ve reached [Service]; how can I help you this evening?”
Caller: “I need [Doctor] paged.”
Me: “All right, ma’am, [Doctor] is not on call; however, the on-call doctor will be taking the page.”
Caller: “No. I don’t want the on-call doctor; I want [Doctor].”
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I am unable to do that. It’s against policy to page doctors not on call.”
Caller: “I don’t care; I want [Doctor] paged now.”
Me: “All righty, ma’am, I’ll need this information.”
(I list off information needed and the caller interrupts.)
Caller: “Why do you need that information? You’re the doctor’s office; you should be able to look at the computer.”
Me: “Ma’am, I’m not the doctor’s office. I’m [Service]; I handle after-hours calls at a separate location.”
Caller: *huffily gives half the info needed*
Me: “I also need the reason you need to page the after-hours doctor.”
Caller: “I need my birth-control refilled. I ran out today and I need more.”
Me: *trying not to let the aggravation seep into my tone* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m unable to page the doctor for this reason. Prescription refills are to be handled by the office on Monday when they open.”
Caller: “But this is an emergency!”
Me: “I apologize, but I am unable to send that page.”
Caller: “You’re the doctor’s office! You have to send it to the doctor! What am I supposed to do until then? Not have sex?”
Me: *just over her attitude* “Ma’am, the doctor’s policy is that prescription refills are to be handled by the office on Monday.”
Caller: *rains down a multitude of expletives before threatening to get me fired and hangs up*
(She STILL calls almost every other month with the same issue. Friendly reminder: if you see you have two days for ANY prescription, please, please, please call it in before then and don’t wait until after hours to get a refill!)
Cholesterol-lol
Jerk, Medical Office, Nurses, Texas, USA | Healthy | July 28, 2018
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.
(I am a female and a teenager. I’m temporarily on a medication that has a lot of side effects, one of the main ones being high cholesterol. I have no prior history of high cholesterol, though. I’m at the doctor’s office with my mom specifically to check that the side effects of the medication are not getting out of hand.)
Nurse: “Okay, so, looking at your results, your cholesterol is higher than it should be.” *addressing my mom* “Mom, no more serving hamburgers, and no more fast food! All that salt, red meat, and fat is really bad for teenagers, even if that’s all they want to eat.”
Mom: “Actually, we never eat fast food, and we’ve been eating pescatarian for the past few months.”
Me: “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve gone to a fast food restaurant in years.”
(The nurse looks a little flustered at this point.)
Nurse: “Well, I know how teenagers are in the summer, so try to do some walking, at least! No more laying around on the couch all day!”
Me: “I’ve actually been swimming a mile every day, and I am working as a lifeguard.”
(The nurse is starting to look annoyed, like she doesn’t believe us.)
Nurse: “Right… Well, you need to fix this, or we’re going to have to put you on medication, and you’re too young to be on cholesterol medication.”
(My mother is getting annoyed and defensive now.)
Mom: “She’s on [Medication]; that’s the whole reason we’re here! Isn’t high cholesterol one of the side effects of the medicine?”
Nurse: *glaring at my mom* “Well… Sometimes.”
Mom: “Don’t you think that might be the reason she has high cholesterol, then?”
(The nurse just walked out at that point, and we didn’t see her the rest of the visit. We mentioned it to the doctor later, but she just said, “Well, your cholesterol is kind of high.” Luckily, once I got off the medication a few months later, my cholesterol dropped back down. But seriously, at least ask questions before making patronizing assumptions about someone’s diet and exercise.)
A Crazy Lack Of Competence
Bad Behavior, Boston, Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Massachusetts, Nurses, USA | Healthy | July 27, 2018
(I’m Bipolar I and not medicated. We’ve tried a few different combinations of drugs for me, but unfortunately I either have side effects or it simply doesn’t help anything. While therapy has been helpful, it’s not perfect; I still need the occasional trip to a psychiatric hospital. For this particular incident, I am sent to a completely different hospital, which I later learn is more adequately equipped to handle patients seeking drug rehab. However, even that seems to be inaccurate, as I learn during my three-and-a-half day visit. On day one, a patient and the head of the wing are talking in a common area
Doctor #1 : “Sunday. Your insurance lets us hold you another week.”
(For a little context, during a previous group session I had with [Patient #1 ], he mentioned he’s been here almost two weeks and the head of the group commented on how much progress he’s made. As my stay continues, it isn’t uncommon to overhear the nurses gossiping about how they can’t believe the doctors still won’t discharge [Patient #1 ]. Day two: one of the other patients is a new mother with apparently no thought filter. As a result, she frequently talks about how she has to pump if the subject even remotely drifts towards family or children. One of the other patients finally gets fed up with it and a fight nearly breaks out. Unlike the mother, the other patient is allowed to leave the wing to go have lunch in the cafeteria.)
Doctor #2 : “Okay, [Patient #3 ], you just lost your cafeteria privilege for today.”
Me: “But doesn’t [Patient #2 ] have to stay up here, too?”
(After enough of us band together, the doctors finally agree the best thing they can do for both patients is to separate them. Also of note, a fourth patient is discharged at the end of day two, with a certain nurse helping her gather her things. On day three, though I’ve only had three or four sessions with her, I bid [Patient #3 ] farewell as she is gathering her things from the storage locker with the same nurse who assisted yesterday’s discharge. Just as I go to leave
Nurse #1 : “Sorry. We’ll call the police and report the theft.”
Patient 3: “WHAT THE F***’S THAT GOING TO DO? SHE’S BEEN GONE A DAY ALREADY! WHY DIDN’T ANY OF YOU NOTICE THE BAG WASN’T LABELLED FOR HER?” *begins crying*
Patient #3 : “IT HAD THE ONLY PICTURE I HAVE OF ME WITH MY FATHER! YOU CAN’T REPLACE THAT! HE DIED AFTER I WAS BORN!”
Me: “Get the f****** police already, you dips***!”
(I didn’t know what else to do. The police do show up, though I have no idea how this story ends or if anything was done about [Nurse #1 ]. On day four — my release day — I’m sitting in the common area playing cards, waiting for my girlfriend to show up and drive me home. Needing a fourth for Hearts, one of the nurses agrees to join us.)
Nurse #2 : “[My Name], you sure know how to pick ’em. Of all the weeks you could’ve shown up!”
Me: “I’m amazed, too.”
Nurse #2 : “Yeah, but this ain’t even the worst of it. One patient last year always ran his mouth. ‘I’m in for bestiality!’ ‘I’m a member of the local KKK and they think this’ll cure me!’ and on and on. All cause he didn’t want to admit he tried to kill himself after his girlfriend broke up with him.”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Nurse #2 : “Yeah, he just kept making excuses to justify the cuts on his arms.”
Me: “You can’t tell us that! His medical records are still privileged!”
(I’ve never been back. I haven’t looked it up yet, because I’m truly frightened that it might still be open.)
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