Work conversations, part X

Scenario: I have gone down to intake because the soon-to-be inmate has requested medical attention. He has failed to mention the nature of the medical attention. What form should it take? Anyway (this vignette is pieced together of multiple "any night of the week" scenarios), he is so drunk that I can smell Old Grandad from the elevator. I can see him flailing all four limbs and attempting to spit on the officers, although he can't quite get momentum so instead he's kind of forcefully drooling down his chin.

He sees me and goes limp. I do the whole "I'm here from medical; I hear you requested medical attention. What's wrong?" [No response] "I'm gonna take your vital signs, OK? So don't be hittin' and spittin', OK?" [No response; VS WNL.] I lift his hand above his face and drop it. It drifts languidly off to the side. "OK, I'm done here," I announce to no one in particular.

We all leave. The door closes. Thumping and pterodactyl noises come out of the cell. "Ima sue you fat bitch! I can't breathe and you did nothin!"

Deputy: "I'm glad you saw this, because that unresponsive thing was a SHOW. He's FAKING."

Me: "You don't say."

From cell: "I BET YO MAMA FAT TOO!"

Me, to no one in particular: "Medical attention seems to provoke an atmosphere that discourages fruitful conversation."

[All deputies in intake fall on ground laughing]

Deputy [doubled over]: "You got to write that down. I'm putting that in my report. I'm not even kidding right now." [Wanders away muttering, "discourages fruitful conversation, BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."]