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Competitive cup stacking, cheerleading, and double-dutch jumproping will soon take a back seat to the next craze that’s sweeping the Midtown area: XTreme Blood Donations!

I give blood about every eight weeks, and I was overdue for this most recent appointment — with the wedding a couple weeks ago, I knew that if I gave blood that week, that would be the one time that they nicked something and my whole arm would be purple (for those who don’t give blood, that’s a rare occurence, so don’t let that scare you.)

Sitting in the snack area post-donation and noshing on my 2nd plate of nachos, my attention was diverted from the May ’97 issue of Better Homes & Gardens when an older gentleman asked me how often I donate.

“Oh, about every eight weeks,” I replied, and gesticulating to the nice bloodbank volunteer snack lady that no, I didn’t want more nachos.

“You know, if you give plasma or platelets, you can give every couple days,” he said.

“Oh yeah, I think I knew that,” I said, flipping through the magazine (and still feeling like I have an inferior home even though the decor in this Better Homes & Gardens was nine years old, but even nine years old in Better Homes & Gardens is still prettier than Pocket-area tract house.)

“You get more credit with the plasma and platelets,” he continued.

I couldn’t feign interest in the magazine much longer, so I played along, “Credit?”

“You know, the prizes you get — for donating,” like he was letting me in on a secret.

“Well, I don’t really do it for the credit or prizes,” as though the coupon for the free pint of ice cream or movie rental is what brings me back.

This is when he went from nice old man to aggro.

“I can see by your nice suit that you must have one of them fancy Monday through Friday jobs.”

I stared at him blankly — when was the last time that an old man (he looked like a veteran, even) got snippy with someone for being a good hard-working, tax-paying member of society? What if I’d been in the field that day and had been wearing my muddy jeans?

“Why don’t you come in on Saturdays to donate?” he asked in an accusing tone.

“Um, I’m usually busy on the weekends with other things — most of my Saturdays are spent out running on the trail and doing other stuff, so I, uh, just do the whole blood every eight weeks. It’s what fits in best with my schedule,” I said, knowing I’d engaged with him too much already.

“Well, I’m never too busy, and you know how many donations I’ve got on record here?” he continued. He then went on and on about how much longer they can store plasma and platelets vs. whole blood, so his donations are more valued than mine.

“That’s great!” I smiled, using the ‘killing with kindness’ philosophy.

“Well,” his tone turned sorrowful, and he continued, “I guess they probably appreciate when you DO come in here,” and he just shook his head.

Just then, as luck would have it, my required ten minutes of sitting in the refreshment zone were up, so I headed out. When stopping by the front desk to book my next appointment, I heard him confront his next victim with asking what their regular donation habits are.

PSA: If you don’t give blood, why not? You might say “I don’t like needles!” Who does like needles? You never know when it could be you or a loved one that needs blood. Don’t let the old codgers like these dissuade you from giving. This is the first time in my many years of donations that I’ve encountered someone like this. Book your appointment today!