A Karen makes her 40-year-old son attack me in the middle of a pharmacy, so I use biological warfare to get revenge.

Here's what happened. Subscribe to Am I the jerk on YouTube and hit the bell to turn on notifications.

Here's the backstory. I worked 24-7 in healthcare in a medium-sized hospital.

This particular year, the flu shot everyone got missed a big one.

As a result, everybody had the flu. Staff dropping like flies, either from having the flu or from looking after kids with the flu.

Our department was running lean-on staff already, so this wiped us out.

As a dude with no kids who wasn't dying a slow sniffle death, I was suddenly in high demand to cover all the shifts.

This resulted in a solid 21-day period of covering all the overnight shifts, which are 10 hours long each,

with the minimum required rest periods. It sounds bad, but honestly it wasn't too terrible.

Lots of flu patients and beds don't really require my department to frequently,

so I made lots of overtime without being worked to death.

But that last week, the flu finally caught up with me.

The symptoms were pretty mild, though, up until my last overnight.

Suddenly, all my symptoms were dialed right up, mild sniffles, snor-throat, to hacking cough,

fever, block sinuses, and vomiting for the last four hours of my shift.

Joy. One of the ED doctors was nice enough to check me out,

diagnosed me with the flu, and with the added bonus of a bacterial sinus and chest infection,

he wrote me a very generous signal and sent me on my way with a prescription

for antibiotics for the chest infection.

So off I go to the nearest pharmacy before running home and hiding from the world for 72 hours.

So there I am, waiting for my meds to be filled, aimlessly walking the aisles.

If I sat down, I was going to go to sleep, with my trusty basket that is slowly

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