Tag: plasma

  • i'm not really a jerk

    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

  • vein rejection

    I was a poor student so I decided to join the club and “donate” my plasma. You’d think it would be a pretty straightforward process: walk in, give plasma, walk out with monetary compensation. But no. The first visit is at least three hours of tests, interviews, paperwork, and ultra-large needle sticking. But I never made it to the needle part. About 40 minutes in, I was ushered into a small room with two chairs and a table. I was told to lay my arms on the table for inspection. The first girl looked at me, muttered something, went out and brought back another employee. He shook his head and went out and brought back someone in more official looking scrubs. This guy took my arm, tapped my vein, and did the same to my other arm, never making eye contact with me. Then he said, “Nope. Not what we’re looking for” and quickly left me alone in the room. I had to track down the first girl to finally understand that I had been rejected for the small size of my veins. Me and my sub-par veins had to sit in the waiting room for another two and half hours for my husband to get done. Beth the Other Admin