Monday morning. 08h00 am.
Mondays come after weekends.
Weekends in the front room mean that we've had three days worth of collecting nutjob psycho's, sorry, I mean, "mental health care patients".
There are no mental health care physicians over the weekend so we can only refer them to the nutjob psycho's, sorry, I mean "psychiatrists", on Monday mornings.
This job usually falls into the hands of the most junior doctor.
Which would be me.
I like this job so much that I would rather remove my own pancreas with a combine harvester.
The handover Monday morning ward round progressed into the psychiatric holding area.
A young Indian lady patient proceeds to greet me in this manner:
"WHO ARE YOU?!!!"
I don't respond. I don't show any teeth. I make no sudden movements.
She goes on:
"ARE YOU A FUCKER? OR ARE YOU A LOCKER?"
I couldn't help but let my confusion show. Which one should I be?
Thankfully she made the decision for me.
"I KNOW! YOU'RE A FUCKER!"
I was not aware that those were the two types of people I could choose to personify.
I thanked her for making me a "fucker" and not, a "locker".
After all, as I could only interpret it, she was speaking metaphorically!
Thus, "Lockers" must ultimately get used by "Fuckers",
because "fuckers" get to put things INTO "lockers" !?!?!?!