The following is a true story:
I got into the elevator on the way to my therapist’s office (18th floor). A man wearing scrubs got in right behind me and pushed the button for the 19th floor. He was wearing the full scrubs get-up, including that shower-cap-looking head covering. He was holding a plastic baggie full of what looked like leftovers from lunch.
I was in a bit of a mood (for the full description of that day’s previous melodrama, click here), so I decided to mess with him. I am sociopathic like that.
Me: Is that a human heart?
[Wide-eyed and confused until he realized I was talking about the 7 bites of his leftover Jimmy Johns sandwich he stuffed in the bag]
Him: I am a dentist.
Me: OH MY GOD, some people have teeth in their hearts? Can I see?
Him: This is not a heart.
Me: But is that a bag of teeth that you pulled from someone’s heart?
Him: No. I don’t really know what you are talking about.
Me: You are the one holding heart teeth in the elevator.
Him: No I am not.
Me: If someone is born with teeth in their heart, is that considered a congenital heart defect?
Him: I don’t really know.
Me: How many times during your whole lifetime have you said, ‘open wide’?
Him: I don’t know.
Me: Could you figure it out? How many times per day and roughly how many days have you worked since you got your cardiologist’s license?
Him: I am not a cardiologist; I am a dentist.
Me: Then, you probably shouldn’t be holding a human heart in a baggie in the elevator. You should use the service elevator.
Him: Are you ok? You don’t seem well.
Me: You have no idea. You have no freaking idea.
[DING! The elevator doors opened to the 18th floor.]
Me: You think you have it bad trying to extract teeth from human hearts? Think how my therapist feels– he’s gotta treat someone like me.
Me: Have a nice day!
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How your elevator game?