Taking a Body to the Morgue: A (Surprisingly) Bad First Day Of Work
Let’s spend a day discussing making money. Here’s how your first day probably shouldn’t go….
My friend Marcus’ mother was ecstatic when she landed a job an orderly job at the hospital. What a dream come true. Sure, she’d have to pay her dues and work the midnight shift, but so what? Before long, she’d move to the day shift and then up to supervisor. Before her first day, in her mind, she was sure someday they’d tell her to run that whole facility.
She showed up early the first night of work, she was so excited.
The job seemed easy. After some instructions from her boss, she was left on her own to do her duties. Her mind was filled with all the money she’d be bringing home. Things were looking up.
A hospital is a quiet place after midnight. The hallways are empty. This helped her think. In fact, she was liking how fairly uninterrupted her thoughts were—so much so that she was even reconsidering moving to the day shift when she got the chance. Four hours into the night, this was shaping up to be a dream job.
–until her boss caught up to her.
The 8th Floor
“I need you to go upstairs to the 8th floor, room 814. They need someone right now.”
Sure thing, boss. No problem.
She went to the 8th floor, barely noticing that this was the ICU. Walking along the hallway, her thoughts were so full of credit card bills and upcoming holiday expenses, that she didn’t notice anything until she turned the corner into room 814.
There was a bed. A sheet covered a body.
The nurse smiled at Marcus’ mom. “There you are! I need you to take this to the morgue.”
The nurse was too busy flipping the locks off the wheels on the bed to notice that Marcus’ mom was frozen. Morgue?
That wasn’t part of the job.
The nurse was talking again. “Okay, it’s ready.”
As she walked out of the room, Marcus’ mom asked, “Where is the morgue?”
The nurse smiled again. “The basement. East elevator. All the way to the bottom.”
To the bottom.
Marcus told me his mom couldn’t get these words out of her head as she began wheeling the bed and dead body to the elevator.
All the way.
To the bottom.
Elevator To The Bottom
It was 2:45 a.m. when the elevator doors opened, inviting her in to the tiny compartment. She didn’t want to go. Would you? Ride on an elevator with a dead body? No thanks. The bed rumbled across the metal strips and into the claustrophobic compartment. As the doors closed, she couldn’t breathe.
I’m in an elevator with a corpse. She eyed the sheet. This is always the part of the movie where the orderly dies, she thought.
It was so ridiculous, Marcus told me, she started laughing.
How silly. It’s a dead body, not a zombie. What’s going to happen? What possibly could happen?
The elevator doors opened ahead of her onto a long, downward sloping corridor, which ended at a set of swinging doors.
She walked around to the far side of the bed and began to push.
The bed hit the elevator rumble strip and shook the mattress.
Marcus’ mom heard a belching sound. The body sat up and the sheet fell away.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Marcus’ mom shrieked. The dead woman, eyes closed, sat straight up and seemed to stare through closed eyelids at her.
Marcus’ mom let go. Because of the slope, the bed began rolling down the corridor. The dead woman stared straight ahead as the thing picked up steam and rumbled down the hall.
Marcus’ mom got back on the elevator and pressed the “Lobby” button.
As the doors closed, she watched the bed roll through the swinging doors.
When the door opened at the lobby, his mom threw her badge at the security guard, walked out of the building, and never came back to work again. Total time worked: just over half a shift.
That’s my true Halloween story. What’s yours?
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