Drug Test From Hell

So, one time for school I had to go volunteer at a hospital for a semester.  Which was awesome because that’s what I wanted to do with my life.

However, since it’s a hospital and people there have lots of diseases and fun stuff going on you have to prove that:

a) you can’t get sick

b) you can’t get other people sick

c) you aren’t a psychopath or on hella drugs

(i.e. not this guy):

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**RIP Heath Ledger

 

All this background-check-safety-measure stuff means that there’s a bunch of paperwork that has to happen before the actual volunteering and making people’s lives better part can begin.

One of the things you have to do is get a drug test done, which, you know, makes total sense.  The only problem was I’d never had to take a drug test before, and, as a drug test rookie I forgot one important piece of information: drug tests are urine tests.  URINE TESTS.

And I, genius that I am, went to go get mine done on a day that I’d drunk maybe one glass of water all day. Maybe.

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So I filled out all the paperwork and paid for it and everything and then went into the restroom to get the job done.

…Nothing.

It was a terrible realization.  Like, a please-God-no-this-isn’t-happening-I-already-feel-so-strange-about-all-of-this-please-no realization.

Let me tell you, there are few things weirder than going out into a waiting room and explaining to an office worker that you can’t get yourself to pee.  (“I’m sorry ma’am, I just, you see, I can’t pee on command…”)

I decided to see if I could wait it out (because that’s not super weird), and chugged a bottle of Mountain Dew to try to speed along the process.  I may or may not have been legitimately praying for pee at this point.

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Then everyone working in the lab figured out what was happening and (strangely) got emotionally invested in my plight.  I spent the next hour and a half sitting in that waiting room, going to the restroom and trying to pee about every fifteen minutes.

Yes.  This really happened.

Every time I emerged from the bathroom one of the lab workers would call “Any luck yet?”

Finally, the lab was CLOSING, and I still hadn’t peed.

I had to come back THE NEXT DAY all because I couldn’t get myself to pee in a stupid cup.  But this wasn’t enough for the vindictive pee gods. No, of course not.

Five minutes after I pulled out of the lab parking lot, I felt it. I had to pee.

Like, I really had to pee.

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The next day I hydrated like nobody’s business the whole morning, and peed in that cup like it was my job.

Good news: I wasn’t on drugs.