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.