Today at work, a very sweet and feeble old gentleman came in to the admissions desk and waited in line. When my coworker asked him if she could help him, he replied "Yes'm. I'm here to pick up my body parts." Everything stopped. We looked at each other, and then looked at him, and then back to each other. She said "Excuse me, sir, You're here to do what now?" He stepped up closer and leaned in over the desk, as if my friend was hard of hearing. "I'M HERE TO PICK UP MY BODY PARTS" he yelled. Carefully, she asked, "Which part are you here to pick up today, sir?" I knew this was a loaded question, and I couldn't wait for his answer. "I think it's a screw or soemthing for my knee. Dr. X said they'd be here today. He's gonna put em in my hip next week." I could almost see the lightbulb go off above my friend's head. "Oh! You're here for preop! Are you having a hip replacement surgery next week?" she asked him, handing him the sign-in sheet. "That's what I been trying to tell ya!," he replied, scribbling his name on the clipboard, "And the doc said he had to order some parts and they'd be here. I guess I'm here to pick em up".
Well, needless to say, we didn't give him his body parts today, but he did get the ones he has already checked out and should recieve the new shiny ones next week.
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