I’m out at a concert with my friend, who is a nurse. While the concert isn’t huge (it’s more of a local band), the place is packed, and someone faints from heat exhaustion.

Security: “Is anyone here medically trained?!”

My friend, obviously, rushes in to help. He spends twenty minutes with the person, going through a medical checklist and checking for things I don’t really understand. My friend then escorts the person outside to meet some paramedics and explains a whole bunch of medical jargon to them to speed things along. The paramedics are both relieved and impressed that such a qualified nurse was there to facilitate.

After helping, the security guys escort my friend back in and have been told that the artists want to meet him backstage. He brings me along after the concert:

Me: “Wow, did your medical training get us VIP access?”

Nurse: “Technically yes, but I reeeeeally don’t recommend my method.”

The band was very cool, very impressed with how my friend helped the concertgoer, and gave him a signed vinyl album and took a load of selfies.

Related:
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 25
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 24
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 23
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 22
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 21

I’m a nurse, in the breakroom, talking to a doctor as we both enjoy a short window to eat a sandwich. Another nurse walks in and beelines for the doctor.

Nurse: “[Patient] is asking to speak with you.”

Doctor: “Didn’t we discharge him? I prescribed [antibiotic]. What else does he need?”

Nurse: “He’s asking if the antibiotics will negatively affect his aura.”

Doctor: “That… is not something I am medically qualified to answer.”

Nurse: “Well, neither am I, but I figured you’re paid twice what I am, you can be twice as qualified to deal with what we’re unqualified for.”

Doctor: “Ugh… fine. Tell him his aura will need to wait for my sandwich, or my aura is seriously going to be negatively affected.”

He enjoyed his sandwich more slowly than usual that day.

This happened about ten years ago, when I worked for a company doing community nursing. We were provided with company cars and a prepaid card for expenditure (fuel and food). The card had a limit of €400 per week, the card resetting to the €400 limit every Monday morning.

Despite the €400 limit, the usual amount any of us spent each week was around €150 to 200 euros, depending on travel. The usual was to get a full tank once a week, which was around €55 to €60, and the rest was coffee and lunch.

Enter Chad.

He was the new financial officer and had some pretty “unique” ideas about changing the finances of the company. One of the ideas he instituted was a change to our prepaid cards. He dropped the limit to €50 a day, with the card resetting every day.

As you can understand, this was a problem, especially if you consider that a full tank cost €55 minimum. If you used the card for fuel, then the rest was paid out of pocket. We couldn’t be reimbursed for the money, because “you have a company card, learn to use it more efficiently”.

Initially, most coworkers were spending €30 euros on fuel and refuelled two or three times a week. But not me.

I decided to spend each day €20 for fuel (some days less), pay for my own coffee out of pocket, and spend the rest at lunch. I used to patronize a grill and BBQ place that had a catering side. They also volunteered for a local food bank and kitchen (the owner had grown up dirt poor and liked to help).

A lot of clients would buy something and add a little extra to an open tab for the food bank. Then, the catering would go each Sunday and provide food for the homeless and the poor using the tab and funds from the owner. So, I went there every day, got something to eat, and the rest of the amount, up to €50, would go to the tab.

I started raising at least €90 a week for the food bank. I hit the limit every day, costing the company €250 euros a week.

Chad was furious. He was trying to save money, and I was costing him more. He asked me to explain my expenses. Food and fuel. He asked for receipts. I provided them (the receipt said food, nothing else). He finally said I should eat cheaper. I told him the company couldn’t force me not to eat whatever I wanted.

After that meeting, a couple of coworkers saw me coming out smiling and inquired about it. I explained what I was doing. The smiles on their faces… Soon afterwards, six nurses spent all their expenses the same way.

This went on for two months. Chad was livid, because now he was losing even more money.

The solution came unexpectedly.

Unbeknownst to all of us, the owner of the company was a major contributor to the food bank. He knew about the restaurant helping out and had seen the richer buffets. He asked the owner of the restaurant about and he said a few nurses had started coming, raising the tab (at that point €600 minimum). The owner put two and two together.

I was called in for a meeting with the owner. I was anxious because I didn’t know what it was about. When I got there, Chad was there also. During the meeting, Chad explained how he was losing money, but he couldn’t do anything about it. I explained what our grievance was and how we took advantage of it. Chad replied we shouldn’t game the system for something “so stupid as a food bank”.

The owner stopped the meeting right there. He reinstated the old system for expenditure. He reprimanded both of us for the whole mess (me a bit less) and informed me that if I make a donation to the food bank, to notify him and he will match it!

The final result was getting our old system back (which we didn’t abuse), a weekly donation to the food bank, and a major Easter Sunday BBQ for the food bank sponsored by the company.

Chad lasted only another three months, because his penny-saving ways dropped the quality of care we could provide. I stayed with the company until it was sold to new owners who were more like Chad. But that’s a story for another day.

In my ward, a fellow nurse is assisting a teenage mother with her newborn. The teen is also with her own mother. They’ve been talking heatedly for a few minutes, but suddenly their volume increases:

Nurse: “Miss, it really is common practice! A rectal thermometer is the best way to get a temperature, and it doesn’t do any damage.”

Teen: “You are not going to do that! You’re just trying to make him gay!”

Teen’s Mother: “Christ, Sandy, if only you’d taken it up there instead, we wouldn’t have to be having this bloody conversation!”

I used to work with a registered nurse who was an Army reservist. She was telling me one day about her most recent attempt to qualify on a military pistol range. It evidently was not a success. The range Non-Commissioned Officer came up to her after she’d finished firing the 9MM.

NCO: “Ma’am, what do you do in the Army?”

Nurse: “I’m a nurse.”

There was a silence while the sergeant turned over in his mind what he might and might not get away with saying to a lieutenant.

NCO: *Finally.* “I guess it’s a good thing you’re fixin’ ’em and not shootin’ ’em.”