What the fuck do you want me to do about it?

Code 3 for shortness of breath. At the university, in a classroom.

Typical.

I think I’ve only ever been to 2 actual medical emergencies at the university. IN YEARS.

We walk into the classroom full of people and find… exactly nothing. Everyone appears healthy.

“Soooo, who called 911?”

“I did,” the instructor speaks up.

“And what for?”

I’m just asking an innocent question, since there obviously is no medical emergency visible to the naked eye.

“She was coughing a lot,” the instructor points toward a student.

“Well, she’s obviously fine.”

“I AM fine,” the student corroborates, “I’ve just had a cough for a few days.”

“Yeah, that’s going around – it took me a month to get over my cough,” I add to the small talk.

“She was coughing so much it was disrupting the class.”

“You couldn’t have asked her to step outside for a second?”

<Silence>

“And instead you called 911?”

“She seemed like she couldn’t breathe,” the instructor weakly offers.

“Did you even ask her if she wanted a 911 response?”

<Silence>

“She did not ask me.”

“And what do you want me to do about this?”

<Silence>

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“We’re leaving.”

One thought on “What the fuck do you want me to do about it?”

  1. And here we see the Ivory Tower Weenie in its natural habitat. Afraid to venture out into the real world where it may have to reproduce, the Ivory Tower Weenie spends his or her days on college campuses sheltered from reality and the requirements of actually producing something for the betterment of society.

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