“Random Tales of Terror, by Aaric Z. Rodriguez”

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“…okay Sir, is that the prescription for the prostate cream and incontinence pills” the technician calls loudly over the plastic wall.

The man looks shyly behind him knowing that we all heard and mutters his acknowledgement.

I’m standing three back thinking, why she gotta shame that dude like that for? isn’t that a hippa violation to be telling everybody what’s wrong with you and what medication you on?

“I’m sorry Sir, I need to hear your confirmation.”

Geesh! Let the guy live. You already shamed him, while the rest of us pretend not to have heard. Why not just shout out his social and debit card while you at it?

Ugh! I hate having to come here…