Monday, April 24, 2017

Do Not Volunteer for your Employer

One of the higher nursing administrators sent me an email, asking me to work a health fair next month.  My task would be taking blood pressure readings for members of the public.

No thank you.

Later, this woman sought me out to pressure me.

"It's easy," she said.

"Actually, it's not easy to come to work on my day off and take blood pressures on a long line of strangers," I replied.

I wondered if they expected me to take off a day during the week, or if this would be overtime.  But since I did not want to do it, I did not inquire further.

The following week, someone from social services skipped up to me, asking me for my shirt size because I was "volunteering" at the health fair.

"I am not participating in the health fair," I answered.  "And what do you mean by 'volunteering'?  Why wouldn't I be paid?"

She had no response, but a nosy person nearby chimed in with her unsolicited opinion.

"They never pay people for the health fair.  It says 'volunteers' in the email," she insisted.

"I have my email.  The word 'volunteer' is not in it," I explained.

"Why would you think you would get paid?" she sneered.

"Because my boss approached me at my place of employment and asked me to work at the hospital doing nurse duties.  That's why I would expect to be paid.  This is not a charity," I answered.

It shut her up.


When I was in nursing school, one of the instructors always said, "Don't give it away for free."

I can see donating my time and skills through a charity servicing the poor.  I will not donate my time and skills to my employer.  They don't pay me my worth as it is.

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Do As I Say Before I Forget to be Nice

My day off.

Twenty minutes before shift change a nurse calls me.

“There is no one to relieve us.  You need to come in,” she snaps.

For background, this place does not have “on call” nurses.

“Oh, I wish you had called me sooner.  I’m already 70 miles away to visit an old friend,” I chirped.

One of the nurses in the background hollered, “No, we don’t have to give you ADVANCE NOTICE because if you left your house NOW, you could make it.”

That’s one of the things I don’t understand about this place.  They think that they can scream at me to do whatever they want, and when I refuse, they point out that they are correct and I must obey because I am lower than dirt.

That was their plan for inducing me to come into work on my day off so they didn't have to do mandatory overtime?

Friday, April 7, 2017


One of the patients is hyperactive and attention seeking with a loud voice that carries throughout the ward.

As soon as someone enters the ward, he calls out to them from wherever he is and runs after them if their path is not redirected towards him.

He asks for random stuff non-stop.

He is never quiet.  This is frustrating for everyone around him, patients and staff alike.

Most staff lacks professionalism on a good day, never mind after a few hours of listening to this person carry on and on.

On this particular day, I was on the ward doing something or other.  I heard the not-so-nice answers from the ward staff, as well as staff coming to the ward for specific tasks.

As one of the social workers was leaving, he called out to her to bring him potato chips.  She turned to him and said, "If you want potato chips, tell your mother to bring them on her next visit.  I am not your waitress."

Three orderlies, along with a secretary not even from that ward, acted horrified and converged in a group, each proclaiming that they cannot believe how rude and unprofessional that social worker is.  They went on and on about how some people should be fired for the way they treat patients.

I challenged them.  I was tired of this.  I knew I would not win my argument against people who can't see themselves, but I have really had it with this place.

"While I sat here, I heard multiple staff members, yourselves included, say things to that patient that were not only non-therapeutic, but outright rude and mean."  They gasped as if I was saying something untrue.  "I get it.  He is obnoxious and never stops.  But what I don't understand is why all of you are right, but that particular person is so wrong she should be fired.  How do you decide who you gang up against?"

"She should not have said that," one of the orderlies answered.

"And you should not have said, 'Are you drunk or are you just plain stupid?' when the patient mispronounced your name," I answered back to that orderly.

Again more gasps.  "What she said was worse than what I said," the orderly persisted.

"All of you said stuff you should not have," I continued, for my benefit, not theirs.  They have no introspect.  "Yet when you discuss how terrible that social worker was, you don't also mention that you all had similar responses.  She is entirely wrong and the rest of you are completely innocent.  I'm really tired of this group lynch mob mentality around here."

I left.


A few days later, that social worker greeted me.  She thanked me for sticking up for her.  A psychologist had been around the corner, listening to my challenge of the group consensus that the social worker was wrong and they were right.

"They learned nothing from it.  They only confirmed that I, too, am the terrible person they think I am," I replied.

"Us normal people know better," she answered.

Thursday, April 6, 2017

Leave Me Alone Instead

I am finding it easier to call out my supervisor on her behavior.

Most months, she hides the schedule worksheet from me.  She hand delivers it to the other employees with instructions to return to her.  If I ask her for it, she says it did not arrive yet.  If she lets me see it, she has not marked any days off for herself and denies wanting any.  Then, she waits until I schedule a day off, then has a showdown because she wanted the same day.

I overheard her telling the witch, "I'm bringing the schedule worksheet for next month upstairs.  Did you need to change anything?"

When she returned, I asked her if the schedule worksheet was available yet.  She replied, "I just brought it upstairs.  It was hanging up all week for you to fill out," she added snottily.

"You had me work elsewhere all week and forbade me to step foot in this area," I reminded her.

"Oh yeah," she agreed.  "Well, that's okay.  All you have to do is put in a request form."

"You know that requires multiple signatures and advance notice," I said.

Her face revealed that she did not care.

"Is there some reason why you hide the worksheet from me month after month while personally delivering it to all the other employees?"  I said this calmly.

She was flustered.  "That's not what happened."

"So tell me what's really happening."

"I just told you.  You were working somewhere else when the worksheet was available."

"So why didn't you call me on the phone and tell me?" I asked, still calm.

No response.

"It seems like you are playing games to try to hurt me professionally.  You are the manager of this area.  All you have to do is tell your supervisor to take me out of your department, but you continue to not do so.  I have told you this before.  If you insist upon keeping me in your department, it will not be to harass me."

She scurried away.  I shut my door and worked on my computer for the rest of the day.  She will not start treating me well.  I have nobody to turn to for remediation.  Right now the goal is to get her to leave me alone while so I can constructively use my time.

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Procrastinating an Emergency

An employee was hurt on the night shift an hour before I arrived to work.

My supervisor was half an hour late that day.  Her absences and lateness has substantially increased lately.  Maybe she's dying.  Or getting someone to cover for her.

Anyway, I did not know about the injury until my supervisor arrived.  A band of people followed her to locate me.

The employee was sobbing in pain and shock.  The doctor was yelling at me, "How much longer must this woman wait to get into the emergency room?"  The night shift supervisor was yelling at me, "Why does it take you so long to find the papers for this incident?"

"What?" was all I could muster.  "Why are you all waiting around for me?  This has nothing to do with me!"

The night supervisor was demanding that I let her into a restricted area.  "I don't have keys for those doors," I replied.  "You must have a master key on your supervisor's key ring."

"Which key is that?" she asked me as she reached into her pocket to bring out pounds of tangled keys and key fobs.

I didn't extend my hand to take any of this mess.  I asked the injured employee if she would like to be seen in the emergency room.  She bobbed her head affirmatively.  I took out my cell phone and explained, lest I be reported for using my personal phone during working hours, "I am calling the ER to send a stretcher to get her, not because it is part of my job duties, but because I am a caring human being."  This was met with confused stares.

What is wrong with these people?

The entire time my supervisor was spying from a distance.  Not helping.  Spying.

This was all taking place within the confines of the locked psych areas.  As the emergency transport arrived, I startled my supervisor when I called out to her, requesting that she hold open one of the locked doors for the stretcher.

She obeyed.  Just as help entered the door I was holding open, I heard the door slam behind me.  I turned and saw my supervisor walking away.  "I'm sorry," I said to the guys pushing the stretcher.  "I thought someone was holding that door."

"It was probably time for her coffee break," one of them quipped.

Tales of our incompetence and disdain for work have apparently traveled.

I scurried around them to scan open the locked door.

After all the commotion was cleared, I approached my supervisor.  "Why did you shut the door on those people?" I asked.

"Because it's not my job to help them," she answered back.  "And it's not your job, either."

"Actually, it is our job to help someone in need, not only as employees, but as human beings," I answered.

Her actions are becoming increasingly contemptible.

Note to self: If ever injured or sick on the job, call for help myself from my cell phone.

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Opportunity Behind a Closed Door

The witch shuts her office door when I have a parade of patients.  She could help, but it interferes with doing nothing.

Once a month the one doctor she helps sees a few patients.  I see more patients in a week than he sees all year.

My supervisor was out (again).  I took a page out of the witch's handbook: I shut my office door.

Through the shut door I could hear her complaining.  "Who does she think she is, shutting that door so she don't have to help nobody?  Wait til I tell Linda that she refused to help patients."

My supervisor will tell me that I was wrong.  I plan to defend myself by saying that I was on the phone and HIPPA required the door to be shut.

And next time, I will shut my door again.

Monday, April 3, 2017

Sniff Test

For my bothersome arthritic areas, I apply a bit of menthol-based rub.

I stopped doing this before work because the witch who works near me would scream and complain and my supervisor would tell me to stop doing things that upset others.

They both wear perfume and body sprays.  They frequently spray thick air fresheners and always have one plugged into an outlet.  They eat pungent food at their desks and leave the containers in the trash cans to continue permeating the area.

I figured that fighting her vehement protestation of my arthritis cream by pointing out the odors that she herself brings into the workplace would be met with accusations of cultural insensitivity.  Plus, hospital policy prohibits strong bodily scents.  This rule would be used against me, not her.

At the time, I was more naive and did not realize that her behavior had nothing to do with the scent and everything to do with the wearer.

Now that I see her for the nasty person she is, I put the arthritic cream to the test.  I detected the menthol odor on an orderly hanging out in the hallway after dropping off a patient.  Making small talk, I stood near him.

The witch finally passed by.  She started screaming, "Oh my God!  That's disgusting!  Who the hell wears BenGay when other people have to smell it?  Don't you give a damn about the other people who have to smell your nasty ass?"

The patients and employees in the area stared at us.

The orderly became very upset.  He had trouble getting out his words.  "I'm sorry," he stammered.  "My back was bothering me this morning, so I put on just a little.  I didn't realize everyone was bothered by it."

She was thrown off.  She quietly said, "Oh, that was you?  That's okay.  I thought it was somebody else."

"What was all that for?" he called after her, but she kept walking.

I think I will go back to wearing menthol rub.

Sunday, April 2, 2017

Singing Instead of Screaming Hate

On a day when my supervisor was actually at work, the witch who occupies space in the area was blasting music.  She sometimes plays music softly when the supervisor is around, but the volume goes up when the supervisor is out.

The first odd thing I noticed that the music was louder than when the supervisor is absent.

Next it started to occur to me that it was the same song over and over.  The words were unclear, but with time and constant repetition I finally deciphered them.  They were something like this:

White bitch, white bitch.
Everybody hates you.
Why don't you get the fuck out of here?

And then it repeated.  No other words or stanzas.  She must have put a clip of a song on a loop and was playing it over and over for my ears.

Or maybe it was just her new favorite song and she could not get enough.

I tested my theory by loudly announcing when I was leaving the area, then allowing the door to slam, but not actually leaving.  Music turned off.  I waited before opening and slamming the door and announcing my return.  Music back on.  I repeated this test a few more times with the same results.

I took lunch and then stayed away for the afternoon by telling my supervisor I was checking supplies on the wards (another job she volunteered me for).

What would you have done?  Keep in mind that I do not work in a normal place.  If I said anything to the player of the music, she would go ballistic and accuse me of violating her cultural beliefs of playing music.  My supervisor would agree that I was harassing her.

Saturday, April 1, 2017

Sharing more than a Password

Last week for a few days my immediate supervisor, Linda, lent me out to an office in another department.  As usual, she then called out during those days.

I wonder if she does this to create more problems, or to ensure that I am not left unsupervised in her office.

One of the doctors that I am supposed to assist had to be assisted by a floater nurse.  Neither the doctor nor this nurse is computer literate.  The doctor's handwriting is utterly illegible, so I help her type her notes into Word.  The doctor and nurse called me in my temporary office for help.

Over the phone I guided them on what to click to find the files.  The doctor wrote down how to save and print documents.

I did not dare go to the doctor to help because the last time I did that, I was in trouble for going near my homebase when I was assigned elsewhere and for leaving my assigned work area.  Yes, I was in trouble for covering two departments while people who do nothing do not get into trouble.

Well, my supervisor tried getting me in trouble anyway.  "You have my computer password!" she accused.

"No, I don't," I replied firmly.  I wasn't going to let her get far this time.  "Where's your evidence?"

"You told the doctor where to find the files on MY computer!" she snapped.

"Over the PHONE!" I snapped back.  "And the files are located in the same place on all of the computers in this hospital because you had The Computer Lady put them on the hospital's intranet."

"Why did the doctor call you when the instructions are right here on the wall?" my supervisor persisted as she swept her arm in a general pointing over hundred of papers tacked to the wall.

For the record, the walls in this work area are covered in so many papers that finding anything is impossible.

artistic interpretation of the wall paper situation

"How did you get into my computer if you did not have the password?" my supervisor continued.

"I didn't.  Any employee can use his or her own user name and password to log on to any computer in this building."  I was explaining to someone who doesn't believe a word I tell her.

"I only gave my password to one person to give to the doctor," she said.  She named that horrible woman who screamed at me in the parking lot.  The one who was supposed to be a "witness" in my impromptu trial at the end of last year.  My supervisor would rather trust that lazy, lying, violent witch than me.

"If other people have your password, change it.  Problem solved," I stated simply.

"Why should I change my password because of YOU?" she retorted.

"You should change your password because YOU gave it out to people, which is expressly prohibited in hospital policy," I challenged her.  "You have the nerve to accuse me, with no proof, of getting your password when you are the one who wrote it down and handed it out to people?  Is that what you are going to tell the director of the hospital when you report me this time?"

She glared at me.  I walked out.  She didn't understand or believe a word I said.

Monday, March 27, 2017

Planning the Temporary Escape

The director of the hospital told me that I would be receiving an additional assignment that would get me out of my current work area “a few times a week.”

He said this before and it never happened.

The job is some kind of review of documentation or incidents.  I don’t know.  I just want out of my hellhole.

One of the women who works in one of the departments that reviews such stuff saw me later.  (I wander quite a bit to avoid my supervisor and her followers.)  She is computer illiterate.  I impressed her a while back with simple numbers on an excel spreadsheet.  She told me about more numbers that she thinks she needs.  I agreed and suggested more projects, which she accepted as legitimate.  She added that another person in the department is going on maternity leave soon.

My plan is to migrate away from my supervisor and home base and be more of an information gatherer, requiring me to be anywhere in the hospital at anytime.  I would touch base with my supervisor now and then, but merely to tell her how much work I have to do for these review projects with spreadsheets of numbers.  My supervisor is also computer illiterate, so she would have no idea if a project took five minutes or five months.

My plans usually blow up in my face, but if others can get away with being roamers while producing no work, then surely I can be incognito while producing tangible reports, yes?

Sunday, March 26, 2017

Navigating Safely through the Snake Pit

The parking lot outburst is still on my mind.

I spoke to a friend who is not connected to the hospital.

She said that I did well to not engage the woman during the tirade.  It is best to avoid her if possible.  I should not respond to further verbal attacks because that drains me emotionally while fueling that woman’s anger and hatred.

My goal is to sanely and safely navigate the place until I can get out.

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Reminder that the Worst is Yet to Come

For the past several days, I have been covering a different office within the hospital.

So I have not crossed paths with that horrible woman whoscreamed at me in the parking lot.

One of the nurses who is friendly with me asked me for something for a patient.  The problem is that the item is stored in my home base, which is where the nasty woman works.

So I put off the request.  She persisted.  I told her she had to go with me.

I made her rush in and rush out after grabbing the item.

As we walked through the hallways, she observed to me:

-- This woman has yelled at me before and she will do it again.  She hates me for no logical reason and this will not change.

-- Her hatred has festered, not lessened, over the last few months because I escaped her attempt at getting me fired.

-- View her outburst as a warning that she will attack again and it will be worse.

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Parking Lot Tirade

Normally my flee to the parking lot after work is my run to freedom.

One of the horrible women who occupies space in my work setting approached me.  She yelled at me that I can’t talk about her and if I have something to say to her to say it to her face.

There were expletives and atrocious grammar violations that I spared you.

She was out last week.  I was floated most of this week.  So we did not cross paths for almost two weeks.  Perhaps the missed daily insults and tirades built up and she had to release it in the parking lot.

I was caught off guard.  Yes, I know she is nasty and loud.  Her allegations made no sense.  At first, I didn’t know if she was attacking me or just talking in her normal tone.  She screamed that I float.

“Yes,” I said cautiously.  (By the way, talking in a low, calm voice does not make her stop screaming.)

Then she started screaming that I’m not allowed to talk about her.

I said nothing further.  I didn’t know if she was going to physically attack.  She’s small, but when someone is that angry and determined, they can have massive physical strength fueled by their strong emotions.  I am still physically weak and injured, so I did not know how well my martial arts training would hold up in a physical altercation.  Plus, she would go to the police with witnesses that I started it, which would be more believable if she ended up more injured than me.

The timing of this outburst coincides with my direct supervisor starting vacation.  Whenever the supervisor is out, this brat becomes nastier and more aggressive towards me.  During my recent absence, the brat bonded with my supervisor.  They redecorated the office.  They do this when I am not there.

It’s them against me.  While some of the people in the hospital are nice, they will not step up to defend me.

My plan is to continue floating somehow in spite of my supervisor’s absence so I can avoid this piece of trash until my supervisor returns and she has to act decent.  I also will not leave before her.  She waits by the time clock to punch out as the clock strikes quitting time.  This particular day, I left promptly to make a doctor’s appointment.  I can’t do that anymore.

Sunday, March 12, 2017

Raffling Nothing Because Integrity is Gone

As I was leaving one of the wards, I noticed an orderly had set up a table next to the door with colorful papers.  She is not one to do arts and crafts with the patients, so I wondered what she was doing.

"Are you buying a raffle ticket for my birthday?" she said to me.  Not really asking.  More telling.

"What?" I was surprised.

She was annoyed.  "A raffle ticket for my birthday," she said, adding, "Are you deaf?"

I left.  I wanted to answer with something along the lines of, "No, I am not deaf or stupid," but this would have been taken to a higher authority and I would have lost.  Clearly this woman is a bad salesperson as well as a bad employee, but she must have connections in higher places to be allowed to do this nonsense openly.

In the hallway, I saw handwritten ads for her birthday raffle.  The prize was a $50 gift card to some fish restaurant I never heard of.  The main psychiatrist for the ward strolled past me while I was trying to comprehend why an employee would think this behavior is acceptable.

"Doctor," I said, "Are you aware that someone who should be a patient, but is not, is selling raffle tickets for her own personal benefit at the door to your ward?"

He smiled.  "Yes, I am aware.  And you are probably aware that there is nothing I can do about this, and this is not the worst thing that happens around here."

We chuckled and parted ways.

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Airing Dirty Linen

The housekeeper yelled at me.

Why is this so upsetting?

It was a misunderstanding.  The bin of used linen was full.  It never contains anything because we never use linen in my area, only disposable.

But today I was out of disposable table covers.  I needed linen for a few different patients, so the linen bin filled up.  It was not overflowing.  (Getting supplies is a very slow process.)

I cleaned the room myself.  I always do because it will not get cleaned otherwise.  It’s not a big deal if the linen bin does not get emptied.  I would do it myself the next day.

In this facility, the approach I have with people is: If they choose to do their job, great.  If not, their job falls on me.  I have no recourse at this point.

Housekeeping does not clean my area or empty the trash cans.  I have been doing this myself for years.  I didn’t empty the linen because it was time for me to leave and it would be waiting for me the next morning.  Just like the trash can or any spills.  Nothing unusual.

The housekeeper arrived at the end of my shift and stared at the full bin of linen.  “What happened in here?” he asked.

“Oh, we used a few sheets today.  We don’t usually, but today we did,” I answered.

That’s when he started yelling.  In front of a bunch of people, including my supervisor.

“You don’t have to tell me to clean.  I always do my job.  Who do you think you are, telling me something needs cleaning?  I clean every night!  I don’t need you telling me what to do.  I’m getting out of here!  I don’t have to take this abuse!” and he pushed his cart down the hallway and out of sight as quickly as the overburdened wheels could go.

I never know what to say when this happens.  Inside my head, I’m thinking that this makes sense.  I am an awful person.  I thought we had a decent working relationship, but in reality, I was being horrible and he was letting it slide until now.

My supervisor had to make this into a bigger deal.  “What did you do to upset him so much?” she announced in front of the crowd.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.  “I didn’t intend any harm.”

She continued in a raised voice, “You see, this is your problem.  You don’t worry about how your words will hurt other people.”

The entire way home I thought about ways I could retreat more into my shell at work.  Barely speak, yet not appear to be condescendingly ignoring people.

I compartmentalize.  Leave this behind at work.  Leave it behind in the moment it happened.  But this is still bothering me.  Maybe writing this story will help me put it to rest.

Sunday, February 5, 2017

Dodging Accusations but not Damage

I have not posted much in the last few months because something bad happened at work.  I feel so stupid writing this months later because I am still employed at this place and cannot find another job.

What happened
My immediate supervisor, Linda, orchestrated an accusation against me.  It did not involve patients, thank goodness.  I will not divulge details here, lest someone read this, so I hope this is clear enough.

I had a day off and arrived back to the office area, now filled with stacks and bags of papers everywhere.  Everyone ignored me.  Linda was flurried and nervous, repeatedly telling me that there was a mandatory staff meeting at 10 o'clock.

I quietly hid out and overheard some conversations about other employees being witnesses against me.  Forewarned, I reviewed the hospital's policies on the topics.

At the meeting were my supervisor, her supervisor, and another managerial nurse to "discuss the charges against Enid."

I did my best to act surprised and confused.  I really was, but I had two hours to prepare.

I could have stopped the process and demanded union representation.  I did not do this because I planned on using the lack of union representation as a defense if they decided in this meeting that I was guilty.  The event was called a "staff meeting," after all, not a trial.

Doing my best to appear bewildered and not accusatory towards my supervisor, I explained that the wrong-doings I was accused of were:
-Things that my supervisor told me to do
-Knew that I was doing because she watches me all day
-Were projects worked on for the past eight weeks and were not a secret, one-time event

The idea that this was not a slam-dunk against me was starting to form in the other nurses' minds.  My supervisor sat there with an angry pout.

I needed to damage her more.

I explained that these projects, now turned into charges against me, were undertaken because we can't find anything because Linda makes multiple copies of everything; she does not secure patient medical files; and she sends out protected health information without a signed release.  The theme was that she is a hoarder with no regard for privacy regulations.  I cited hospital policies for all of this.

The other two nurses were shocked with every accusation I threw out.  My idiot supervisor admitted to each one with, "Yes, but it is just easier this way."  She grew increasingly flustered and angry.  I remained calm.  Inside, I was nervous and angry.

After the meeting, I went to lunch and then hid out in a storage room until the end of the shift.

The next day, she was still angry.  "You made me look stupid," she complained to me.

"That was a very stupid thing you did," I answered back.  "I have done nothing to you that was so horrible that you had to lodge false accusations against me."

"Well, I had a question, and the lady I usually go to for my questions was not here that day, so I had to go to the director of the hospital instead," she explained.

"On my day off?  You were confused about an issue that was not important and instead of waiting for me to discuss, you went to the director of the hospital and filed a formal complaint against me?  That is your explanation?  You accidentally prosecuted me?"

She stood there, staring at me.  She didn't get it.

"When I came into work, I could have been fired, reported to the board of nursing, or even arrested because of your false claims," I continued.

"No, you are making this into a big deal," she tried.

"No, this is a big deal.  I understand that you don't like me, but your scheme was out of proportion to anything I have done.  What you did to me is what you would do to someone who had an affair with your husband or purposely burned down your house.  I can't work with someone who plotted against me for months for no reason.  You can't name a single thing I did to you, can you?" I stood there, waiting for her response.

"You don't get it," I continued.  "You need to apologize to me, which you will never do because you don't see that you did anything wrong.  You are upset that I successfully defended myself against your false charges.  If you want me out of your department, all you have to do is say so.  You didn't need to do this."

Going to the Director

A week went by.  I needed proof that the charges were cleared, but no supervisor would provide anything in writing.  I went to the director of the hospital to make sure that he understood the situation from my angle.

He was confused.  We enlightened each other.  When my supervisor initially went to him with her accusations, he investigated, found the allegations ridiculous, and told her to get rid of the piles of "evidence" against me because they were a fire hazard.

Wow.  This made my supervisor look even more evil.  "This was not shared with me at the two hour inquisition," I explained.

He said he did not know that they pursued the charges.  I listed the attendees and his face reddened.  "They are jealous of you, that is why they did this," he said.

"I need out of that department," I explained.  "I can't work with someone who went to such lengths to get me in serious trouble and continued in spite of your order to stop."

He agreed.  "Until I can figure something out, just stay in your office and work on your computer and ignore the rest of them."

"But I don't have a desk or office or computer," I said.  "Everything was rearranged so that everyone but me has a work station."

"I will find somewhere for you!" he exclaimed.  Will not happen.

Going back to my supervisor

I confronted my supervisor.  "The director of this hospital told me that after you filed charges against me, he investigated and told you the charges were unfounded.  Is this true?"

She was surprised, but said nothing.

I said, "This new information makes you look more evil than I originally thought.  You staged this bad situation, were ordered to stop, and continued anyway."  She said nothing.  "I am done.  I will help the doctors with the patients, but that's it until I get transferred out."


My home base is still this office area.  No words have been exchanged between any of the other staff and me, except necessary talking with my supervisor.

The events were reported to the union by me for documentation and to ruffle the involved nurses.  Nothing will happen to them for this attempt to set me up.

Like other employees, I do the bare minimum, which is a struggle for me because that is not my work ethic.  When my supervisor tells me to do paperwork or filing, I tell her "I am not falling for that trick again" or "put it in writing so I have protection when you change your mind."

I still do not have my own work space.  I try to stay in hiding places throughout the hospital.

She still does not understand the irreparable harm done to our working relationship.  "But that thing was dropped!" she says often.  I was vindicated.  She was not.  She does not understand that I cannot trust her.  She and her buddies are probably actively plotting their next attack.

Saturday, January 14, 2017

The Answer is No

One of the nurses helps the patients create artistic displays on the ward for holidays or times of the year.  Often I pick up supplies or decorations to add to the display or the creation of artwork for the display.

An orderly came through my little area of the hospital to socialize with others.  After confirming with her that she was working with the artistic nurse that shift, I asked her to bring a bag of supplies back with her.

"Is this for a patient?" she asked.

"It's for the Valentine Day display," I explained.

"Then I'm not doing it," she said.  "I only do work if it's for a patient.  I don't do personal favors for the staff."

"It's not a personal favor.  It's for a project that the patients are doing," I tried.

"If that nurse wants whatever you have, she can come get it herself or you can bring it to her.  Ain't nothing in my job description that says I have to help people with no art display," she asserted and left.

Wow.  I didn't expect that from this particular person.  I've worked with her many times.  A few years back, she became very ill on a ward where I was the charge nurse.  I dropped everything to take care of her.  She asked me questions and I answered her about the illness she found out she has after lots of tests.  That is all personal and does not directly affect the patients, yet I did this for her and did not assert that "I don't do personal favors for the staff."

She is on the lazy side, even with patient care, though in her mind she may think that she goes above and beyond for the patients.

I do not have the option of claiming that I don't have to do a particular task if it does not directly affect a patient.

Friday, January 13, 2017

Addressing Tone Instead of the Issues

Nurse Helen wrote up one of the good orderlies for positioning himself on the ward where he could not see all the patients at once.  Such a spot does not exist.  Logic also does not exist in this place.

Nurse Helen is a nightmare to work with.

Working with great people is so rare.  In the past, I have protected the good employees when something happened.  If someone needed an extended break, it was no problem.

There are quite a few bad apples on Helen's ward.  Here's the issue:  she would never write them up for any of their daily infractions because they would make work a living hell for Helen.

So instead, Helen targets professionals who will continue to be professional towards Helen even after the write-up.

One of the representatives from the orderlies' union met with Nurse Helen to discuss the write-up.  Their voices were clear through the closed door, so I listened.  It's entertaining.

The union rep is an idiot.  Nurse Helen gave an impressive explanation of her position:  She is the nurse in charge on the ward and she gives directives to promote patient safety and the orderlies need to listen.

The union rep distracted Helen by tone policing her, interrupting her often to tell her to "not be so angry" and "you are too upset to think clearly."  Each time Helen would stop her story and explain, "Yes, of course I'm angry that nobody listens" or "No, I am not upset."  The union rep said that Helen should have handled the situation differently by talking to the orderly "like a friend" and by "asking the orderly to do something instead of telling him to do something."

The union rep finished the meeting by telling Helen that she was being "silly" by wasting everyone's time to process the grievance.

This situation is one of the reasons why this place is so frustrating.

Monday, January 9, 2017

Job Hunting

The search for a New Job continues.

Without success.

A few jobs seemed to be crafted for my set of skills and experiences.  No response.

One place called me about my application for a clinical research nurse.  She explained that I need certification.  This I do not have.

I apply for jobs even if I don't have the experience or certifications specified in the ad because the people who write the ads aren't the people who do the interviewing or hiring and usually have no idea what is needed.  For example, an ad will state that a Bachelor's of Science in Nursing is required, while the next paragraph will specify an Associate's Degree.

Anyway, this person went on to explain that my experience can be used to gain certification as a clinical research nurse.  Trying to play the game, I said that I would pursue certification once hired.

The person explained that she could set me up with an open house and courses to become certified.  At this point, I detected something amiss.  After asking a few questions, the caller admitted that she was not calling on behalf of an employer, but instead she works for some kind of education company.

I was not happy.  One, she got my hopes up.  Two, the ad was fraudulent.

I tracked down the original ad and reported it as fake.

And this is why I still work where I work, in case anyone was wondering.  (And I have not won the lottery.)