Florence Nightingale
So a 30-ish year-old man was walking through a home improvement store the other day with flip-flops on his feet. He walked into some fixtures that had been left in the aisle and cut his toe. It was a slice kind-of-cut. He's screaming about stitches and the "Incident Manager" was called to administer First-Aid. But nobody could find the First-Aid box. After several minutes of nothing being done to help this man, I walked over, pulled some alcohol swabs, gauze and bandaids from my purse and got to work. He's still going on about stitches and the time he's going to lose on his project. I explained that it may not need stitches. At best, maybe some of that crazy-glue stuff, but if he wants to avoid a trip to the hospital, take the bandage and wrap it tightly in the direction that will fold the skin over the cut. I go back to what I was doing before. Fixed up and feeling better, the man tells the Incident Manager, a clerk and other shopper in the area about how I was a hero. That I would selflessly help him with his bloody toe.
Morals of this story: Clean up the aisles. Watch where you're walking. I'm a hero.
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