Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Will Bleed for Flattery

One of my few contributions to humanity is donating blood. My wife has trouble -- she wigs out and hyperventilates -- but I'm fine as long as I don't think about it too much (for example, I can't bring myself to do that process where they take out the red cells and then pump the rest of the blood back into you -- that just weirds me out). Still, I don't particularly like to donate blood. The blood bank wants me to come in much more often than I want to, and I have programmed all of their phone numbers into my cell phone so I can ignore them when they call. Since I have hardly any friends or clients, 90% of the calls to my cell number are either my wife or the blood people.

Today they called while I was reading a book at Costello's. Naturally, I pushed the button to silence the ringer and let the call go to voice mail. Then I had to call my voice mail just to clear out the message. There is a standard, prerecorded message they leave, and I can repeat the first few lines by heart since I've heard it so many times.

But this time I did not get the standard message. I got a personal appeal from someone who said she was calling only a select list of donors. They need blood for premature babies, and apparently mine is of particularly high quality. She left the number for her direct line.

Well, that did it. After they complimented my blood, how could I not return the call? So I have an appointment for 12:30 tomorrow afternoon, and my awesome blood will go into a special bag to help those tiny preemies.*

* Incidentally, many of my wife's fellow police officers say they don't donate blood because, "It's just going to go to some stupid gang banger anyway." But not my super blood -- I'm saving babies!

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