My First Attempt to Donate Plasma - Part III

In Search of the Satisfaction of Helping Others and . . . Cash as a First Time Donor

Lori Wheat
In Part II of "My First Ever Attempt to Donate Plasma," I learned that the plasma center lobby and the other donors were much more pleasant than I had thought they would be. My lastest words were: With a new sense of confidence, I approached the reception desk.

ZLB Plasma Services - The First Time Donor Evaluation

I printed my name on the sign-in sheet. Then I realized there was a separate sign-in sheet for first time donors. There were no ZLB employees sitting at the reception desk, so I waited for one of the employees to walk by and I caught her eye.

"I'm a first-time donor, so I sign-in here and not on the regular sheet?" I asked.

"Yes," she quickly answered and hurried off to perform other tasks.

About 30 minutes after I had signed in, my name was called. I was told to go down the hallway and enter the first door on my left. I located Room #1, went inside, and sat down. A woman with an employee tag that said her name and "Reception Supervisor" was waiting for me on the other side of the table.

I presented my driver's license and social security card for identification. My name, address, telephone number, and social security number, among other information, were put into the computer system. I filled out a short questionnaire about my medical history, behaviors, and where I had traveled internationally. Reception Supervisor asked me to stand with my face very close to a strange, high tech looking camera. My picture was taken. Of course, it was the worst picture of all time.

I was told to go back to the lobby where a binder I needed to read and a cup of ramen noodles would be waiting for me on the reception counter.

"I have a question," I said sheepishly, "I'm vegetarian, so is there something else I can eat?" I knew the spices in ramen noodles almost always contained animal products, usually some form of chicken.

Reception Supervisor politely told me that since I am vegetarian, they don't want to make me eat the noodles. Then, they quizzed me about what I had eaten before I came. Satisfied by my answers, they sent me to the lobby to read the information in the binder.

Published by Lori Wheat

Lori Wheat is a progressive, reformed attorney turned freelance writer, gardener, and property manager. She lives with her wonderful husband and adopted greyhound dog in Norman, Oklahoma.  View profile

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