I couldn't have filled that thing if you had a gun to my head. Then again, it sort of felt that way anyhow.
Quest Diagnostics (now #1 on my "please let the asteroid fall here" list) in Brighton is in this building that's for rent and is being repainted. The door is wide open and the sign is hung crooked. Already my confidence in cleanliness and reliability is flagging. So I walk inside and there's a middle aged Chinese lady in a silk skirt standing in front of the water cooler (which, by the way, was half full but there were no cups. I thought about why not for a loooong time) and the receptionist is talking on the phone about somebody's wedding. I wait a minute, two minutes; she shows no sign of getting off the phone. I see the tiny sign that says to put your name on the clipboard and sit the f* down (not really). Moments later, the receptionist fills out my information on this very important sheet while still talking on the phone AND trying to have a conversation with me about Air Force health insurance.
Fine.
I drank a lot of water today. Probably somewhere near the obscene amount recommended. Maybe more. I walked to QD and really was eager to give them a sample. Really. But somewhere between learning that the receptionist was actually the clinician as well and the fact that they treat you like a suspect really ruined my chances. Also, the Chinese lady was allowed to flush and wash her hands. I had to stand there and watch QD Brighton's only employee pour my bodily fluids from container to container before I was allowed to do either. AND I had to leave my purse with this multitasker, just in case I had brought somebody else's urine with me. I didn't check to see if I still have the millions of dollars and Faberge egg collection that I usually carry around, but I would not be surprised if something were missing/broken.
So now we just sit back and wait to be mysteriously fired. But then at least I can tell everyone about crazy razors.
Also, did you know that your pee is between 95 and 100 degrees? Yep. There's a little cheater's checkbox on my form that, I imagine, can get you in big troubs if you don't, um, emit the right temperature.
Ok, enough. I wash my hands of this and all pee talk forever. Unless, of course, I get promoted.
1 comment:
'Laurenzmom' left this comment on 23 Sep 04
Dr. Lieberfarb would be appalled! But then she'd probably chuckle. Wait, I don't think that's possible, but in any case, good job, Toots! Takes me back to the gas station on the way back from Fredricksburg, TX with Grandma and Grandpa Krueger. You were a little over 2 years old and finally admitted to having to use the toilet. We went into this place, down a long, dark hallway. You took one look at the "ladies room" and told me, "I don't have to go THAT bad." and we made it all the way home without going.
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