One of my greatest friends on earth, we'll call her Jill, had to tend to a very delicate issue this week. Jill is a paralegal and she had clients in her office on Monday for a deposition. One of the clients in the office that day was a female stroke survivor and due to neurological complications suffers from paralysis to one side of her body.
As if attending a deposition isn't torture enough, this client happened to be on her monthly cycle the day of her deposition. I have a suspicion she probably didn't wake up that morning singing Mr. Bluebird.
Jill is a very nurturing and caring spirit. I am not saying that because I adore her, I have friends I would not give similar acclaim, I say it because it is sincerely fact. On Monday Jill was given what I hope will be her worst job assignment in her career. Jill was asked to accompany the impaired client to the restroom to assist the lady with the removal and replacement of her used maxi-pad.
You read that correctly. CHANGE her soiled, blood-soaked, foul smelling pad.
Jill's exact words to me were "I don't get paid enough money to do what I just did". She spent the remainder of the day incessantly scrubbing her upper apendages.
The question here is who is the real victim? You gotta believe the client was equally as mortified. Hasn't the poor woman been through enough? Kick her while she's down why don't ya life. The day someone assists me to the lavatory to switch out pads is going to be a very, very sad one.
Jill will be in town this weekend for tailgating and debauchery. Can't wait. Later guys,
~J
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