Friday, April 20, 2007
What the Fuck!?
(2)
As we approached the open 'stall' she asked me a question. I did not understand her. I said, 'Pardon me?' She repeated the question. The meaning still eluded me. After sitting down I had her face to face: 'What did you say?'
She answered, 'Protime today?' I said, 'Yes.'
She had a thick accent (tap). I judged from her appearance and her accent that she was either Japanese or Korean (tap). I (smiling) asked her whether she was Japanese or Korean. She replied, 'Kor(tap)ean.' (At this point I will refrain from noting the various taps and thumps from above as I write this, because it interferes with the flow of the narrative.)
I noted the coincidence, of course, but it was far-fetched. It might be quite innocent. No problem. Coincidence happens. I said, 'My wife is Japanese, so I was curious. Korean and Japanese accents sound alike to me.' I smiled again. She replied with something like, 'When I sing, I sing in a Japanese accent.'
I thought, 'Bizarre.' I offered her my right arm. She tied off the arm with an elastic strap, then selected a small vein near the top of my right forearm. The alarm bells in my head went off as she ignored the big fat bulging vein in the middle of the forearm. Every blood technician in history had recognized that this big fat vein in the middle of my right forearm was the obvious candidate for a blood draw, yet this new Korean woman missed it. (In fact, at the beginning of my long interactions with the Kaiser Arapahoe blood unit I had offered both arms, and the technician always chose the right arm. I eventually decided to alternate arms in the interest of protecting that poor right arm vein from overpuncture.)
What the fuck!?
As we approached the open 'stall' she asked me a question. I did not understand her. I said, 'Pardon me?' She repeated the question. The meaning still eluded me. After sitting down I had her face to face: 'What did you say?'
She answered, 'Protime today?' I said, 'Yes.'
She had a thick accent (tap). I judged from her appearance and her accent that she was either Japanese or Korean (tap). I (smiling) asked her whether she was Japanese or Korean. She replied, 'Kor(tap)ean.' (At this point I will refrain from noting the various taps and thumps from above as I write this, because it interferes with the flow of the narrative.)
I noted the coincidence, of course, but it was far-fetched. It might be quite innocent. No problem. Coincidence happens. I said, 'My wife is Japanese, so I was curious. Korean and Japanese accents sound alike to me.' I smiled again. She replied with something like, 'When I sing, I sing in a Japanese accent.'
I thought, 'Bizarre.' I offered her my right arm. She tied off the arm with an elastic strap, then selected a small vein near the top of my right forearm. The alarm bells in my head went off as she ignored the big fat bulging vein in the middle of the forearm. Every blood technician in history had recognized that this big fat vein in the middle of my right forearm was the obvious candidate for a blood draw, yet this new Korean woman missed it. (In fact, at the beginning of my long interactions with the Kaiser Arapahoe blood unit I had offered both arms, and the technician always chose the right arm. I eventually decided to alternate arms in the interest of protecting that poor right arm vein from overpuncture.)
What the fuck!?
