| rev:text
| - Arrived. Was given ear pieces to listen to some audio. After that, I was given some pages to flip through covered in plastic which....was the same thing in the video. Twice? Ok...
Then, I was told by the new girl to sit down off to the side and wait. After waiting and waiting..about 45 minutes, I was called. I was told by this girl that the next I should just wait in line so they can see me. Uh, but...I was told to sit over "there." The Diagnosis? I got hosed by the new employee. Too bad I wasn't compensated for every mishap this day because I could retire early.
I then went to this area where they proceeded to ask me questions about all of my tattoos. What it was, and what every color was present, etc. Cause I guess if I get new ink they will somehow know was the premise and I couldn't give blood till a year after. I wondered, do they do a cross reference every time you go there? So I asked. They don't. So then how would the know? Seems a bit much if you ask me. Most people there donate because they need the money, so do they really think those people are going to be honest about drugs, sexual practices,...let alone that they got "new ink"? Of course not, cause they need the money. But hey, let's please the law makers shall we?
I went back to the exam room where the girl proceeded to go back over everything that I just listened to and read before entering the room. What the deuce?! I'm now agitated. I hop up on the exam table where I was given the most awful and incompetent exam. When listening to my lungs, the person placed the stethoscope over my posterior deltoid and was off on the other side as well. The posterior lobe...you would have thought was at my waist...ok, perhaps my flank would be more accurate. My heart was auscultated over the middle of my left pectoralis muscle and so was the right side. So much for that aortic and pulmonic valve. She did at least make a decent palpatory effort when digging for an enlarged liver.
I then left the "exhaustive" exam and headed back to the chair. After sort of not hearing the lady's instructions on where to go, I made my way back through all of the people who seemed like they were probably just at the DMV...you know that crowd? yeah....so...I sit down and get stuck with that lovely 17g needle only to have it clot. They did the other arm and it too clotted. Thinking that I wasn't going to compensated in the tune of 45 clams was quite unsettling. To throw more gas onto the fire, I was told by the one girl that since they didn't get any plasma, I would have to re register again because there was nothing to link me to - yeah...do it all over again. You know that saying, "phuck that noise" ? Yeah, it applies.
There was a light at the end of the tunnel, and it was not in fact a train with the roadrunner at the helm, but it was the fact that I did not have to repeat that agonizing registration and I did get paid. I think I will try the other one on Broadway.
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