Oh the Bloody Tribulations

Okay, I admit it. I use to work for an attorney. Actually a very good and moral one. He was a sweetheart.

While I was employed by him, he was the president of the state attorneys association and one of the things he had to do was organize a blood drive. Which meant I was calling all the attorneys in town and badgering them into giving blood. I did pretty good too, although I noticed that there was one that I couldn't talk into giving blood: my boss.

Right, so we resort to dastardly deeds. Somebody from the office had to give, so I put my name down (and I am deathly afraid of needles, I pass out whenever I see one). Then proceeded to make sure he knew that it was me that would be representing our firm at the blood drive and because of my phobia, someone would have to drive me there and back.

Well we couldn't have that could we. So he decided that he would give of his blood also and had me schedule our times together so we could take one car, his. All the way there, I was getting more and more nervous, whilst he was trying heroically to calm my nerves.

Finally we get to the blood mobile and went in. I sat at one end and he at the other. You know, it doesn't take long to give blood and they give you orange juice afterwards. I was ready to give again just to get another glass of fresh squeezed oj. But they wouldn't go for that so I was ready to go. Except there seemed to be a problem:

My boss had passed out up front and I had to wait for him to come around. He didn't want to go back to the office right away, so off to breakfast we went, with me driving.

And what did I learn that day? The blood mobile has great orange juice.