From Not Always Right: A Steaming Mug Of Karma… And Maybe Something Else
Reading this story made me think of when I was in medical school. There was an array of cubby holes for coffee mugs labeled with our names just outside the lecture hall. I rarely drank coffee but occasionally would drink hot chocolate. Nearly every time I looked for my mug, it was missing. I’d find it in one of the labs with cigarette butts in it. (This was more than forty years ago.)
I solved the problem by photocopying a card I was given when I was returning from serving in the Peace Corps. It was intended to help treating physicians if I turned up ill at a clinic or emergency room in the US. I laminated the photocopy to my mug.
Card: “[My Name] served in [Country] in West Africa from 1975 to 1977 and may have been exposed to the following diseases.”
It listed about twenty tropical diseases. Below the copy of the card I wrote, “Use at your own risk.” No one ever swiped my mug again.
From Not Always Right: A Steaming Mug Of Karma… And Maybe Something Else
Reading this story made me think of when I was in medical school. There was an array of cubby holes for coffee mugs labeled with our names just outside the lecture hall. I rarely drank coffee but occasionally would drink hot chocolate. Nearly every time I looked for my mug, it was missing. I’d find it in one of the labs with cigarette butts in it. (This was more than forty years ago.)
I solved the problem by photocopying a card I was given when I was returning from serving in the Peace Corps. It was intended to help treating physicians if I turned up ill at a clinic or emergency room in the US. I laminated the photocopy to my mug.
Card: “[My Name] served in [Country] in West Africa from 1975 to 1977 and may have been exposed to the following diseases.”
It listed about twenty tropical diseases. Below the copy of the card I wrote, “Use at your own risk.” No one ever swiped my mug again.
NOT my story.