· Have You Ever Been Drug Tested? ·
I remember my first drug test in a bathroom when I was required to pee in a container.
Even though I’d been a county employee forever, it still caught me by surprise.
I recall starting my patrol car, keying the mic, and advising dispatch I was “10-8,” meaning that I was in service. Seconds later, my supervisor called me on my phone: “Report to the fifth floor of the courthouse at 8:15 a.m. for a drug test.”
Forty-five minutes later, for the first time, I was waiting for a UA (urinalysis) while on duty.
Here’s my memory.
I’m nervous.
I start thinking: What have I eaten recently? Have I had any poppy seeds on a muffin? Would that cause a false drug reading?
My anxiety level is rising.
I should know, but I start wondering how the urine collection is done. I mean, I’m a person who likes his privacy. But then again, I’ve had a colonoscopy–a camera up my butt–so what’s the big deal here?
I’m waiting on the fifth floor and I’m anxious.
I’m getting judgmental.
The examiner is late.
How can someone be late for their first appointment of the day? I ask sarcastically. I have work to do, acting superior as I grow more nervous.
The elevator bell rings and the door slides open. A big, black, bosomy woman wearing hot pink, carrying a huge purse and a notebook, steps off the elevator into a space of white-tiled floor and high narrow windows.
She lumbers to a small table and plops down her belongings. I fumble for my identification card, but still wishful, hoping a male drug tester will exit the empty elevator.
The large lady gets her notebook and papers set up on the small table. She reaches into her suitcase-size purse. She’s up to her elbow before pulling out three plastic specimen jars. Then she probes the purse like she’s hand fishing and smiles when she hooks her prey.
It’s a blue, latex, extra-large glove.
I gulp, thinking I may be getting an extra test I don’t need. My recent colonoscopy results were fine.
Uncomfortable, I’m clearly a first timer at this.
I meekly ask her if there’s a male tester coming along. She smiles, laughs, and replies: “I’m not shy. I’m a nurse.”
Haha! Very funny! Fine for her to joke. I’m sweating bullets.
She explains the procedure. “We’ll go into the men’s bathroom together, but you’ll be alone in the bathroom stall to make your urine contribution.”
Yes! In a short time, I’m done in the bathroom. I hand her the warm plastic container. She seals it.
I know; I worry too much.
I’m a prude, but now I’m free to go to work and solve real problems.
I’d be wise to go read some Samuel Clemens, a.k.a. Mark Twain.
He wrote: “I’ve had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened.”
Until next time, happy writing and reading!
Marcia Hudson says
December 20, 2017 at 7:24 amHilarious! Love your writing…
Jim Potter says
December 20, 2017 at 8:22 amThanks, Marcia! Including the photo of the glove made me laugh out loud! I appreciate the encouragement. Best to you.
Tracy says
December 20, 2017 at 12:41 pmWhew! Nope. Never been drug tested. I was beginning to worry about the graphic nature of this post when she pulled out the blue glove!
Jim Potter says
December 20, 2017 at 12:46 pmWould that be a graphic novel? Thanks for your contact, Tracy! Again, I really enjoyed your blog post on the mysterious and lovely women from yesteryear.
Anonymous says
December 20, 2017 at 12:47 pmThat was good Jim and later you are a DARE officer 🙂 Good writing. I need to write something today but my head isn’t cooperating with me.
Jim Potter says
December 20, 2017 at 1:10 pmThank you! When you have the feeling to write, I encourage you to go for it! Of course there are times when I’m better off listening. Writing can be a lot of fun and give a person a feeling of accomplishment. Happy writing!
Marsha says
December 20, 2017 at 2:10 pmI’ve not been drug tested but I’ve had to take a polygraph before to work in a bank in Florida when I was 19. Talk about nervous. They asked every uncomfortable question known to man or wooooman. I lied through 75% of the test and still landed the job. I was 19 for gosh sake. I had some stuff I hadn’t told my mom or priest, let alone a complete stranger.
My test was a colonoscopy without anesthesia.
I enjoyed your blog post and look forward to many more!!!
Jim Potter says
December 20, 2017 at 2:40 pmThank you, Marsha. Wow! The test sounds uncomfortable. Write your stories! Hope there aren’t too many bodies in the basement. If you get bored, (that’s difficult to imagine), there are past blogs on my website. Sign up for the free blogs and you won’t miss them on Facebook! Next week’s blog: “Jury Duty.”
Phil says
December 20, 2017 at 11:20 pmYou were right, it was a good laugh.
Jim Potter says
December 21, 2017 at 6:37 amThanks, Phil. I think I know how you’ve aged so gracefully. Of course, you’re known for your intellect and friendliness, but you’re also easily recognized by your laugh. Here’s a quote by Michael Pritchard, American comedian: “You don’t stop laughing because you grow old. You grow old because you stop laughing.”
Anonymous says
December 22, 2017 at 3:32 pmI think we would all be surprised as to how many people have had to go through Jim’s experience. I have and can understand his nervousness. Now, he can say, without embarrassment, he is among the chosen and the experienced.
Jim Potter says
December 22, 2017 at 5:12 pmThanks for your perspective. With private events it’s difficult to find a consensus of opinion. On top of that, we’re all different and handle new experiences differently. Interesting that you see a first-time drug test as a widespread stressor for a majority of people.