Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Deary me

One of the best things about being an elderly (age-wise only) clinical ER nurse is that I can get away with saying shit I never could at a younger age.    I can pretty much tack on a  "dear", "honey", or "sweetie" at the end of any sentence and, like magic, the sting is removed from any admonishment, rebuke, or refusal.

Seriously.  Like magic, I tell you.

I have further discovered that the use of "dear", et al makes it possible to drastically cut down on the amount of spin required for any given situation.  Particularly when accompanied by a pat on the hand, a squeeze of the toes beneath the blanket, and a regretful tone for added effect.

 "I need juice and a turkey sandwich and a charger for my iPhone".
 "Can I have a taxi voucher?"
"I'm not getting a narcotic prescription???"

"not just now, dear"
"I'm afraid not, dear"
"not today, dear"

Sometimes a well placed "young man/woman" (I refuse to use the term lady, because I haven't met one in about 10 years) serves to remind the rude ones that I am a card carrying member of AARP and deserve respect.  It mostly works.

My ace in the hole?  "I'm sure your mother would be very disappointed in your rude behavior", along with the delivery of a perfectly executed fish-eyed stare over the top of my glasses.

I'm so intimidating.