Thumbs up!
3 AM.
Guy walks through the front door.
“Hi there, sir, how can I help you this morning?”
“I cut my thumb off.”
I’ve heard similar stories, usually exaggerated. “Can I see it?”
He removes a bloody paper towel and, sure enough, there’s a ragged stump where the knuckle of his thumb ought to be. His friend holds up a cup, holding what I can only assume to be the other portion of this guy’s digit.
“Okay, sir, give us just a minute and I’ll get you into a room.”
I love my job.
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