Maybe I watch too much friends, but maybe that's not even possible.}
A few days ago I reached a new level of awkward at the plasma center.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the process, each time you go to the facility you are screened to ensure that you are able to donate that day. You answer a series of questions, your hematocrit and protein levels are checked, as well as your blood pressure and heart rate. It is fairly simple.
Yesterday started off as normally as ever, I signed in and sat in the black chairs like I always do, waiting for my name to be called. Then it was. My name was called by THE CUTEST GUY THAT WORKS THERE.
I went back to the booth number two, as instructed and obviously started chatting him up. He seriously was so cute. We chatted as he did the series of checks he needed to. Then he took my heart rate. Note that, again, the guy was super cute. The screen read 103 beats per minute. *face palm*
I had gotten so nervous talking to him that my heart rate increase to a point that made me not able to donate. The worst part is, he knew exactly why my heart rate was raised. "Don't worry about it," he said "it's probably high because hahah....we were talking."
He explained then that in ten minutes he would call me back into the booth and we would measure it again. I, completely mortified, went back out to the lobby and waited the allotted ten minutes. A different guy did the second check, which was a huge relief, and it was down to a normal rate.
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