For a while I was “giving” plasma on a regular basis. They “gave” me a monetary compensation for my generosity. In case that wasn’t subtle enough insert a wink wink. This was my only source of spending cash while we were in school so it was pretty important to me. One day I went up with a friend to donate, but I was taken into another room. This less than professional phlebotomist told me that I could no longer donate. My liver enzymes were elevated which meant I either had Hepatitis, over-exercised, drank too much or took too much herbal medicine. Yeah. Not me. They couldn’t have been bothered with calling me to save me the drive and slight embarrassment. I went to sit in the lobby and wait for my friend to be finished.

I decided to feel sorry for myself, so I got out my laptop, put my headphones in and started listening to some good emo music. About two sappy songs in an angry employee walked over to me. She looked like she wanted to hit me. I was confused. She said with the attitude of three thirteen year-old girls, “Sir, can you turn that down?!”

“What?” Oh! I realized that the headphones were plugged into the microphone slot. Why hadn’t anyone told me? I quickly apologized and tried to explain that it was a mistake. She cut me off with another disgustedly angry look and walked away leaving me to feel like the accidental jerk that I so often turn into.

Micah the Admin