Entitled fatty in the emergency room gets shot down by shitlord doc. So I had to go to emerg a few days ago.  Turns out I managed to injure my lower back during a deadlift (proper form counts for everything, kids).  The pain wasn't really terrible, but enough that I needed some happy pills. Anyway, I got shoved into a room with a fatty who was there for some foot issues (probably beetus, but I was trying not to pay attention when the nurse came in to do the initial check.  I was grossed out enough already).  The nurse saw the fatty first, even though I was the first one seen in the waiting room.  That annoyed me, but, whatever. So, while we were waiting for the doctor (thankfully, there was a curtain between us, so I didn't have to look at him), all I could hear was fatty wheezing, and moaning, breathing hard, and straining every time he fidgeted in his chair.  Clearly, fatty was uncomfortable (the chairs, while not shitlord-size, weren't fatty accommodating, either.  I still had a good 3 inches on either side, and I'm not exactly tiny--5'10"/160).  Good.  Sweat, fatty, sweat. After about, oh, an hour or so, the doctor finally comes in (she looks to be early middle aged, and quite fit--later, when chatting with her, I found out she's actually in her 60s).  She heads right for me, when I hear fatty belch out "can you take me first? I'm a little uncomfortable!" She stops, turns to the fatty, and says, rather curtly, "I see my patients in the order they come in.  You'll just have to wait, sir" Shitlord doc then takes her time with me, asks about the injury, tells me I probably forgot to keep my elbows in (it's true, I did... noob mistake, I know), gives me a prescription for some happy pills, then chats a bit more.  Fatty's grunting and groaning the whole time, of course.  Finally, we finish up, and she tells me "no lifting for a few weeks, then start back at a lower weight.  You can still hit 350 by the end of the year, just pay closer attention to your form".  I say thank you, and go on my merry way. As I walk out of the room, there's a page over the intercom for a doctor something-or-other.  I'm about to round the corner when I see shitlord doc rushing out of the room, leaving (I assume) fatty in there to moan and wheeze some more.