The story I'm about to post is a direct copy and paste from my Myspace. It's really more of an inside joke than anything else, directed at people I work with, but it leads to an interesting topic for discussion, and could also get me court martialed for lack of patient sensitivity.
Hooray.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Revenge!
I don't know how many of you are filled in on my battle against the evils of TSgt. Mustache. It's a story I really do enjoy telling, so odds are the majority of you have heard it, but for those who haven't:
I was leaving my last base, Sheppard, waiting on a plane at the airport in my blues uniform, expecting to arrive at Luke later that day. To pass the time I was on the phone a bit, chatting with friends and family, pretty much anyone who would listen to me ramble, all of a sudden this skinny guy with a vaguely Hitler-ish mustache comes strutting up to me shouting "Hey Airman!"
"Get off your phone if your going to walk around! It's all about professionalism!" He keeps shouting, I mean shouting. All loud like. I'm sitting there thinking "professionalism is not yelling in the airport, everyone probably thinks you have a bomb now."
Anyway I run into this guy again in Dallas, we're both hopping on the same plane again. Come to find out he works in the same hospital I was about to report to, he's in charge of supply, another member of the MDSS. I'd be seeing him alot.
So I swallow my pride, and act decently to him...until today. I was bored of microbiology so I wandered up to the front desk to work for a little while, drawing blood. TSgt Mustache comes strutting up, gives me a big bristley smile, I turn to another guy at the desk and say "he's mine."
I just wanted to put a needle in his arm, truth be told. I tried to make it hurt, but that horrible mustachioed mouth could only say "wow, your really good at this, I didn't even feel it." I even carelessly "forgot" to wipe the alcohol off of his arm, which should by all rights burn when I shove a piece of steel through him.
"Curse these skilled hands!" I whispered under my breath.
So I hand him his urine cup, direct him to the bathroom so he can give a specimen, then proceeded to Urinanalysis, like a tiger stalking prey. He produced his sample, and innocently reached towards the metal carousel that would deliver it to the lab, I had other ideas though, I stopped the carousel with my hand from the other side of the lab, so he would have to struggle helplessly in the hallway, attempting to rid himself of the cup full of urine he had just made.
After a little while someone stopped my fun, but I had my revenge. It felt so damned good.