So there I was, sitting in the phlebotomy clinic’s waiting area waiting for my number to be called. Eventually a phlebotomist asked me: “Are you number 42?”
I said yes, followed her into the blood-letting area and said, “I am the ultimate answer to life, the universe, everything.” There were six phlebotomists who all looked somewhat bemused. “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?” I suggested. They stared at me as if I were raving mad. I shrugged, sat down, and was venesected.
The phlebotomist was new and obviously quite nervous. But she was very good, she didn’t panic (nor did I) and I didn’t feel a thing; not even a tiny prick.