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Me, spending 45 minutes of my life in an old lady’s apartment again listening to her cry and ramble and complain about life,
and her neighbors. Every time I suggested a solution she waved me off and kept venting. After a half hour I realized that was all
she wanted; just somebody to listen. Without offering suggestions about how to improve her life. Because then what would she
have to complain about?

The young lady in labor who didn’t want the hospital to know her real name. Thought making up a fake name to use on her new
baby’s birth certificate wouldn’t, you know, cause any problems at all later on? She had lied because she had a warrant for her
arrest. Which I gotta tell ya, the hospital staff is 1) not going to know about or find out and 2) not going to care in the slightest
anyway. Here’s an idea: it’s called Just Use Your Real Name.

The teenager who overdosed on synthetic marijuana one day; his mother called 911. I got there and the kid was upright, but in
total zombie mode. A couple hours later, he was in a coma. When he rejoined the land of the living a couple weeks later, he had
lost a bit of brain function. Permanently.

3 am: Quiet night shift. Then some whining millennial calls the police to complain his baby mama is committing adultery with
some other guy! And so he wants her arrested! Or something!