“Somebody wanted to get it in a Starbucks,” said Ngwisang Anyangwe as she prepared to stick your DCist staff with the flu vaccine. By comparison, our glass-enclosed office in a busy co-working space seemed almost normal.

Anyangwe was briefly stationed on our office couch this afternoon courtesy of Uber.

“We’re confident that together—with a sprinkle of care and a dash of technology—we can build a healthier future for everyone, in every city,” the company wrote in a blog post. To that end, Uber offered up to five flu shots and one care pack for every user who successfully took advantage of the free promotion (they did something similar last year, but charged $10).

Anyangwe, a registered nurse with Passport Health, estimated that she’d given out around 30 shots over the course of the afternoon—ferried from office to office via Uber. “It’s been interesting,” she said, ticking off the places she’d given the injections: a gym, a bathroom, conference rooms. As for the person who wanted to get it done at a Starbucks, she suggested a nearby office lobby instead.

Here’s what we made of the experience:

Rachel S:

• As a kid, I once hid out in the bathroom of a doctor’s office for an hour to avoid getting a shot (it was an unsuccessful stakeout). As an adult, I’m not quite that skittish, but I still get slightly nervous about these things. I probably should have remembered that fact before agreeing to getting a semi-public flu shot. Anyway, now Rachel and Christina definitely know.
• I did not expect to be taking my shirt off at work today, but I guess that’s how it goes when you’re wearing a button down and need access to your upper left arm so you can get a flu shot in the middle of the day? Fortunately, Rachel K let me borrow her superhero sweater-cape for the experience.
• It was no more or less painful than any other shot, aside from the general embarrassment.
• I was at Express when a colleague ordered kittens to the Washington Post building. While that was definitely cuter, we didn’t have to fight for Anyangwe’s attention and she seemed genuinely interested in us. I can’t say the same thing about the cats.

Christina:

• The first couple of times I tried to “request health” in the Uber app, there was a high demand so I was denied health. But after about five minutes, our Uber driver, Corey, was on his way with Anyangwe in tow.
• Since I had to leave work early yesterday for medical reasons, I thought it wise to get the shot today.
• Corey gave me a call wherein Anyangwe checked to confirm that I had, in fact, ordered flu shots and to see if I had an indoor place where she could administer them.
• Anyangwe said that I looked the most brave out of us all—maybe that has something to do with having to calm down my kid when he gets shots at the doctor, or maybe it’s because (as the Rachels say) my facial expression never changes. Either way, I’m brave!
• The actual shot hurt a little, but then it was over. I think I’m the only one who bled.
• Now, I can’t call out of work for the flu. Ugh.

Rachel K:

• The actual shot process was painless—Anyangwe didn’t draw it out or do any kind of countdown as she sanitized our arms. The shot itself felt like a tiny pinprick at most.
• There’s nothing quite like seeing how your colleagues react to a needle to gain some new insight into their personalities.
• Uber’s goody bag includes a water bottle, hand sanitizer, tissues, stickers, cough drops (Luden’s Honey Lemon, not Cherry, which honestly feels like an insult), gummy vitamins, tea, a lollipop, and vitamin C: it’s a care package for the sick, but hopefully, given that I got the shot, I won’t need any of it. Except the lip balm. The lip balm is mine.
• While not as adorable as Uber’s occasional puppy delivery service, I’d recommend the Uber for vaccination path for anyone hankering for their flu shot if and when it comes around again