The Golden Bedpan

A rookie nurse was shadowing a veteran on the oncology floor when they encountered a particularly difficult patient. The man was wealthy, arrogant, and constantly ringing his call button for the smallest things—fluffing his pillow, changing the channel, or complaining that his water wasn't "mountain spring cold."

"Listen," the veteran nurse whispered in the hallway, "you have to set boundaries with these types, or they'll run you ragged."

Just then, the call light buzzed again. The rookie went in, and the man demanded, "I want a golden bedpan! I’m paying a fortune for this room, and I expect royal treatment!"

The rookie nurse came back out, flustered. "He wants a golden bedpan! What do I do?"

The veteran nurse didn't miss a beat. She grabbed a standard stainless steel bedpan, a can of yellow spray paint from the maintenance closet, and a permanent marker. Five minutes later, she handed it to the rookie.

"What's this?" the rookie asked.

"It's his royal throne," the veteran said with a wink. "And I wrote 'Property of the IRS' on the bottom. He’ll be too scared to use it, and he'll stop buzzing us for an hour while he tries to hide it!"