(cut and pasted from my blog)
Corporate America: Day Fifty-one - The Hunt for Red-Blooded Americans
My fellow Bloggers,
Today marks a day of momentuous occasion in our hemisphere. It is a day of great honour, and, also, one of great shame. For today, while attempting to give to those in need, I discovered that the world is a really crappy place.
Businesses ask so much of their employees. They would like us to come in early, stay late, and not complain about the lack of benefits, or jujubees in the break room vending machine. But, sometimes they push the envelope a bit too far.
Sometimes they ask for blood.
Today was one of those days. Under the guise of a seemingly noble task, the business for which I work, ---------, successfully brainwashed several of its employees into believing that work was not so bad, after all. They called upon the sensitive nature of a captive audience, and encouraged participation in a upper-management-led experiment to separate the strong from the weak. They called their experiment, "A Blood Drive."
I have never given blood. I am not a fan of needles. When I went in nine years ago for my tattoo, I fainted before the artist even touched me with the needle. After some smelling salts and fresh water, I managed to let him touch my arm again.* When I was six, I was bitten by a poisonous spider. While in the hospital, the nurse made three attempts to insert the IV. "Oops! Wrong vein!" she said each time. She nailed it on the fourth try.
So I was not planning on participating in upper-management's experiment of the day. I just had a TB test two years ago, and since they started giving HIV tests orally...well, let's just say I was settling in for a long holiday from needles.
I made the mistake of walking into my boss's office to steal some chocolate. She asked me if I had participated in the experiment. I ran her through my history with needles. I eyed the "I Gave Blood!" button on her blouse, and felt her apathetic stare as she shook her head at me.
I am O+ blood type. This is the very generous bloodtype. Though O+ people can only receive blood from other O+ people, we can donate to every bloodtype. Much unlike those stingy, selfish AB people, who can only give to themselves, while receiving from any old bloodtype they choose.
But I digress. After feeling like a heel, and after hearing my boss refer to me as a "total wuss," I headed downstairs to participate in the experiment. I didn't want to be just another labrat, but I figured I should try this giving thing at least once, especially since I had to represent for the 0+ people. I calmed my nerves by focusing on each, individual step in the stairwell, repeating the Give Blood Mantra over and over in my head: "I will not die, I will not die."
I arrived at the donation center (laboratory) with sweaty palms. I was starting to feel lightheaded as I clutched a Papermate connected to a clipboard by a string, and signed in. I was told to read some preliminary paperwork before proceeding to the "Are You Anemic" test station (sort of like a PSAT, I guess - a little hype before the real thing). I was glossing over most of the rules, figuring they didn't really apply to me. I've never received a bovine injection, I don't have Claps-Puttman disease, or whatever it's called, and I - wait! What's this? Have I ever lived in one of these foreign countries? Why, yes. I lived in France. What's the matter there? I asked the rent-a-nurse if having lived in France was really a condition under which I could not donate blood.
"How long were you there?" she asked. I told her nine months.
"Oh, no, you can't give." Then she snatched my paperwork away. I asked her why having lived in France was such a bad thing - was it that I had been eating natural food for an extended period of time? That I had lived in the country, breathed fresh air, and didn't work 70-hour work weeks? Was it that I hadn't been exposed to the compelling journalism style of the new American media? But, she had no answer. She explained that "they" were in the process of changing the rules, but hadn't yet done so, and until "they" did, I could not be as generous of an O+ person as I'd worked myself up to be.
Everyone in the donation station (labrat repository) stared at me with disgust. "France?!" their eyes seemed to shout. "How could you?! And to think you would bring that contaminated blood..."
I returned to my office, and told my boss I was no longer a wuss. I was now a commie.
Ask now what your country can do for you. Instead, ask, how will my giving blood hurt my country?
---
*The entire process lasted about fifteen minutes.
