You’re kidding, right?

Today was just friggin’ marvy!

I sat on a chair at the clinic this morning waiting to get my bloodwork done.

The fellow next to me waited to get his blood taken also. He asked me if I’d hold his hand because he felt nervous.

I said, “you’re kidding, right?”

He said, “no,” and began to sweat like a tiny waterfall just exploded in his cranium. He looked like a fainting butterfly princess ready to kiss the floor hello at any moment. I thought, this guy would never make it in the times of the gladiator. If he can’t even take a damn needle, what would he do at the sight of a sword flying toward his limbs like a giant food processor?

“You’ll be fine,” I assured him. I wasn’t about to touch his sweaty, pansy-ass hand.

Later at work, I offered this dick-head (a different man) a fork to go with his salad. Because who wants to eat a salad with their fingers? I’m thoughtful that way.

He said, “no thank you.”

I mentioned that there is salt and pepper in the implement bundle, and out of nowhere the guy cracked like Humpty Dumpty and had a major meltdown. He gnashed his teeth, “I told you I don’t want it!” he griped. Then he insisited that I call the manager.

I looked at him in disbelief and uttered, “you’re kidding, right?

He replied, “no, I’m not kidding!”

My eyebrows raised. “You want me to call the manager over a fork?”

“No, it’s because you’re arguing with me,” he snapped.

Whoa, anger issues. Okay, now this guy is really annoying me. “I’m not arguing with you, Sir, I’m just trying to be helpful,” I replied politely.

His face got really red and his anger flared. “Now you’re arguing about arguing with me. I want the manager!”

I couldn’t believe it. I just could not win. The guy was a complete shit-stirrer. I felt a little embarassed that I may be reprimanded about a plastic utensil.

The manager showed up and spoke to this ignoramous. I don’t know what was said, but as I looked over I saw Mr. anti-fork stomping out of the store like a bull looking for a red cape.

Truthfully, I wanted a gladiator to stab him in forehead with a fork. Stick the salt in his eyeballs and shove the pepper up his arse.

We need gladiators. A gladiator could get rid of a lot of the dick-wads of the world.

Do I love my job? Yeah, I’m living the dream.

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22 thoughts on “You’re kidding, right?

    1. Unfortunately it’s true. It happened yesterday and I had to write about it because it bothered me. lol. This blog is the only therapy I get. The guy who asked me to hold his hand, he left so much sweat on the seat by the time he left the clinic they had to clean it. Some folks have really bad phobias.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. OK I may be off here, but he wasn’t angry about the fork, he was STILL ANGRY about you not holding his hand earlier. Sounds like he’s on edge about something totally unrelated to you. Not sure why they are taking blood tests at your workplace? Maybe he’s afraid of what will show up on the test?

    Liked by 2 people

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