A woman practically runs into the ER, claiming she’s in great pain and in need of a doctor immediately. I try to get some information out of her, but all I get is:

Woman: “It hurts! It hurts so bad!” 

She’s holding her stomach as she shouts this, writhing around in pain. I call a nurse over, who rushes over just in time to see this woman sit down on the floor, apparently in agony.

The nurse has called over some others to help her, when all of a sudden:

Woman: “Pffffffffffttttttttph.”

It remains, to this day, the loudest, longest, most acoustic fart I have ever heard in my entire life. It still astounds me that such a level of decibels could come from this tiny-framed woman.

 After that, she looks calmer and stands up, apparently pain-free.

Woman: “Huh… I guess I’m okay.”

She walks out like it’s nothing, leaving a bunch of nurses and me standing there going, “Did that just happen?”

I work at a hospital, and the charting can be a bit tedious, but fortunately, we are provided with Dictaphones that plug into the computer and save a ton of time.

Problem: there isn’t enough for all the residents, and so one day, after yet another morning of finding mine vanished, I finally decide to cross the hospital to the IT lair and ask for an additional one.

On the way from the elevator to their door (about twenty metres), I am greeted by FOUR printed signs listing their opening hours in big, bold, red letters, tactically placed where everyone HAS to see them, including at the right of the door, at the left of the door, and ON the door.

I’m let inside and greeted by a dude who seems to wish to be anywhere but here, and while he fetches my query (while commenting on how he may not have any left, then after finding one that it’s far from new), I take a look around.

The space between the door and the counter is tiny, like, not even two by two metres, and yet I count FIVE signs explaining that to open the door you need to press the button right next to it.

That already is wild enough to make me raise an eyebrow, but then I turn and see two signs with big red arrows pointing at the switch and yet another sign explaining what to do.

When the guy finally comes back, I jokingly ask if they get a lot of people who can’t open the door, and his face lights with a genuine smile (and relief, I think) as he explains to me that yes, every day they get people trying to pull and pull on the door, not noticing the switch with “open the door” printed on it.

And apparently even with all these signs they still get some regularly.

I was half-tempted to ‘forget’ to press the switch on my way out.

In my previous job, I worked as a field service engineer maintaining ophthalmic devices. In this role, I needed to be an IT specialist, mechanic, furniture mover, and truck driver. For some reason, they found it very hard to get anyone with all the requisite skills to apply! I quite liked the job at a base level, but they were screwing me over with the pay, so I left after the latest salary review wasn’t at all to my liking. But that’s another story.

One day, I was called out to repair an optical device at a hospital. The unit was a portable slit lamp (a handheld device used to examine the eye). Like most hospitals I visited, the biomedical department was tucked away in the bowels of the building, involving lots of long corridors and doorways to get through. This time, I was escorted in because I’d never have found the place otherwise.

They showed me to a bench with the offending device, and I got to work. It was a pretty simple fix; just a loose internal lens that needed to be glued in place. The issue was that the glue we used required UV light to cure, and I didn’t have a lamp with me. No problem; we usually just take the devices out into the sun for a minute, and the glue sets pretty quickly.

I looked around; no windows. I looked down the hall; no windows.

Me: “Excuse me, I know this is going to sound silly, but where might I find the sun?”

I was directed to the loading bay, just down the hall and through a couple of doors. I gingerly carried my patient, being very careful not to bump the lens, which was positioned just right. I found the loading dock, but… no sun!

The hospital walls loomed upwards, giving me only the smallest sliver of sky. I could tell there was sunshine somewhere, but just not here. So, I started walking, both hands keeping the device steady while also looking out for trucks and whatnot. Eventually, I found a welcoming beam of sunlight calling out to me. I walked into it and lifted the slit lamp into its rays like I was presenting a chalice to the gods of fire.

I stood there for a minute to ensure the job was done, trying to look casual and normal to the few people who passed me. But it’s not easy to look normal in that situation, so I just stood there like an idiot until the job was done. I found my way back, finished the repair, and tested the unit. Everything worked, and I packed up my stuff.

Later that day, I went online and found a nice, powerful UV torch that would handle the job without me roaming the halls looking for the sun like some reverse vampire.

I got a call from a nurse saying my uncle had been shot and was in surgery. I dropped everything and went to the hospital. Sitting in the waiting room was his union rep. The rep explained that two men came into their workplace and demanded the clerks empty their cash drawers. When one had his back turned, my uncle rushed in to subdue him. The working theory is my uncle made too much noise, as the man suddenly turned and fired three shots (possibly more, but that is how many hit my uncle). According to my uncle’s coworkers, the gunshots rattled the men and started them fleeing before my uncle even hit the ground, taking only about $100.

The good news is my uncle survived. The bad news…oh boy. First, he was written up for violating procedure and not complying; the union was unable to get this overturned. Second, as this violated procedure, Workers’ Comp would not be covering his hospital bills. Third, this write-up and several others were enough to meet the requirements outlined in the union contract to fire him; the union was unable to overturn this, either. Fourth, as this surgery and hospitalization came as a result of a violation of procedure that culminated in his termination, his company health insurance was fighting to not pay for this either; this one the union was still fighting.

After the union rep left upon dropping the bombshell, I started trying to figure out how we were getting out of this one. As my frustration grew, I turned to my uncle and snapped about his thought process. He told me he was doing what he thought he was supposed to. When I asked him to clarify, he insisted an email had been sent out saying that workers were supposed to stop robbers because the company would hold workers responsible for the theft if they did nothing.

Already seeing a possible out and the window closing, I called a friend of mine. While he is a divorce lawyer, my friend knows enough legalese to get the company to halt wiping my uncle’s emails and workstation, and then he introduced me to someone better qualified for the situation. One subpoena later, and we had our copies. After a bit of searching, he found the email, and it said precisely what my uncle claimed. The two elements of particular note: the language in this email did not look like it had gone through a legal team, and the sender address did not look like upper management in the company. He and I were initially nervous about a scam, but my uncle revealed the email address belonged to his union rep. That got the lawyer a subpoena for a deep dive into the server.

It took considerably more digging to piece this together. Months ago, a different facility had also been hit. As no one stepped up, the robbers took the entirety of every drawer, totalling around $5,000. The trio practically had one foot out the door with the money when they suddenly turned around and pulled the manager into the back.

As it turns out, one particularly loud worker turned to the manager and commented how thankful he was they did not demand she open the safe. The last few night managers had been lazy about making bank runs, so their score jumped to nearly $150,000.

Once the police confirmed every one of the multitude of idiots had no connection to the thieves, the company handed out write-ups to the managers, but wanted to crucify the worker who opened his mouth, arguing this was predominantly his fault. The union would work out a deal to give this idiot a chance of not letting this destroy his hirability elsewhere, but one of the terms of the deal was the union had to clarify that the procedure of “complying” did not include volunteering information unprompted or jeopardizing the safety of their coworkers and managers, and that such acts would result in a write-up. In his laziness, the union rep instead represented this as the workers being responsible for losses by robbers and did not let legal review his actions.

This much got the lawyer very curious, and he subpoenaed my uncle’s disciplinary record. Upon cross-referencing similar slipshod memos with my uncle’s record, he showed me that while my uncle was violating the company’s directives, he was in compliance with the union’s notices; had the union mentioned these emails at the negotiations and arbitrations, his record would have been spotless.

The lawyer brought all of this to my uncle and me. He assured us this was an airtight case. While he doubted Workers’ Comp would budge, it was basically guaranteed the union would be paying my uncle’s medical bills and whatever wages he would be losing during recovery, and he was hopeful that the write-ups would be overturned and my uncle’s job returned.

Once the lawyer finished his outline of the case, my uncle verbally tore the lawyer a new one so hard he would tear his own stitches. He was overjoyed when we thought the case was against the company, but apparently the union is beyond reproach, and this lawyer is an idiot for suggesting they are ever at fault. As I tried to calm him, he lashed out at me for hiring this “incompetent ambulance chaser” and my friend for recommending him.

Once we left my uncle with the medical staff, I thanked the lawyer for his effort and apologized for wasting his time. However, as I was the one bankrolling this, we agreed I was *technically* his client as well, even if I was not the party suffering damages. Therefore, he handed over a copy of that file to me. I reached out to as many of my uncle’s coworkers as I could find. Management, worker, I did not care. Every last one of them got an outline of my lawyer’s findings. And boy oh boy did things blow up.

I am not privileged to the entire result, but here is what I do know. The union was massively overhauled and the problematic players removed completely. A bunch of workers got their records cleared and were assured there were notes in their files saying they were owed raises and promotions. Management put a thumb on the scale to ensure the company health insurance would still cover my uncle’s surgery and overnights. And a check arrived for my uncle from the new union president to cover his part of the bills.

The only bad news: since my uncle’s turnaround on the lawsuit was public knowledge and the file proved he listened to the union before he listened to management, the company would not undo his firing unless the union formally challenged his disciplinary record. This was still a guarantee, but my uncle refused to let them get the ball rolling.

Even after the overhaul, my uncle remained adamant that a union can never do any wrong, so he refused to let the new guard throw the old guard under the bus. Eventually, the new guard agreed my uncle was a lost cause and stopped pursuing the issue, wishing him good luck, knowing he was going to need it.

I’m a nurse preparing a patient for surgery scheduled for the next morning.

Doctor: “Because of the anaesthetic, you must be nil by mouth for the next twenty-four hours.”

Patient: “So no food?”

Doctor: “Correct.”

Patient: “No drinks?”

Doctor: “Correct.”

Patient: “No solids or liquids of any kind?”

Doctor: “That’s right. Nil by mouth.”

A few hours later, I walk into his room and find him happily eating a yoghurt.

Me: “Sir! What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be eating!”

Patient: “I know. That’s why I picked yoghurt. The doctor said no solids and no liquids.”

Me: “He said nil by mouth!”

Patient: “Yoghurt isn’t technically a solid or a liquid.”

Me: “That’s not how nil by mouth works! Now we’ll have to reschedule your surgery!”

Patient: “Then the doctor should’ve said no semi-solids.”

Me: “The doctor also said ‘nil by mouth’, so unless you wanted to start stuffing that yoghurt up your ar**hole, you’re gonna have a problem.”

We rescheduled his surgery, much to the annoyance of everyone. I later learned that the patient was a lawyer… figures.