What happens when a system fails at something as basic as making a sandwich? It raises serious concerns about its reliability.
After my wife’s 98th surgery, she faced a grueling night without food. With her stomach growling and her lips parched, all she asked for was a simple bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich — a modest request from the patient menu she’d relied on countless times before.
But that night, the kitchen was closed.
She had been NPO for nearly a full day, which is medical speak for “no food, no drink.” It amounts to nothing but misery in an already challenging time.
She looked at me and said, “Can you grab me one from the grill?” So, I headed down to the hospital grill, the last place open for staff and visitors. I approached the cook with high hopes.
“Could I get a BLT?” I asked. The response? A vacant stare followed by “That’s not on our menu. We can’t charge for that.”
There it was — a goldmine of ingredients: cooked bacon, fresh tomatoes, crisp lettuce, and bread, all just sitting there. But a simple sandwich was apparently beyond their capabilities due to bureaucratic nonsense.
I tried reasoning with them: “I’ve got money. Just make the sandwich, and charge me whatever you need to.” Yet, all I received in return was more blank stares, as if I had asked for something utterly absurd.
It was a frustrating moment that encapsulated the suffocating nature of bureaucracy.
Where’s the Compassion?
I wasn’t asking for gourmet fare. I simply wanted to bring my wife — a woman recovering from major surgery — a slice of comfort, in the form of a BLT. They had the ingredients. They had the staff. But a mere lack of a billing code stopped them in their tracks.
I considered ordering a bacon cheeseburger and just asking for no burger or cheese— a workaround to their absurd rules. But after 13 hours of fluorescent lights, I wasn’t in the mood for creative problem-solving. I was a husband who just wanted to help his wife find solace after a long ordeal.
Thankfully, the manager on duty, recognizing my plight, intervened and made it happen—no forms, no fuss, just humanity at work. I walked away with my wife’s sandwich, grateful for a fleeting moment of common sense in a convoluted system. Yet, the underlying question remained: if we can’t make a simple sandwich for a recovering patient, what other failures linger in our systems?
The Wider Crisis
This isolated incident stands as a reflection of a broader issue in our nation — where red tape reigns supreme and solutions lie within reach, yet remain out of grasp. Consider this:
- Need to fix a clerical error with the IRS? Good luck navigating a labyrinth of regulations.
- Want to speak with a live representative? You stand a higher chance of spotting Bigfoot!
America was built on the principle of “we can do better,” not “that’s just how it is.” Yet, we now tolerate a system that prioritizes process over people, and it’s eroding our humanity.
The spirit of our nation thrives on innovation and compassion. We must reject the mindset that “the way things are” is acceptable. Bureaucracy should not trump basic human decency.
Change is Possible
Systems don’t transform just because we voice our frustration. They improve when people reclaim their sense of responsibility. The issue isn’t just cumbersome paperwork; it’s a fundamental disconnect from the humanity of others.
We must remember the importance of recognizing the person in front of us, identifying their need, and seizing the opportunity to help. When we’re faced with a challenge, let’s think like individuals, not cogs in a machine. See the need. Make the sandwich.
It’s time we prioritize compassion over compliance — because sometimes, even the simplest gestures go a long way.
