This makes me Lois Lane.
Waiting. It’s all I do, I wait on change at work. I wait for a change of job, and I waited too long until the paychecks were pulled out from under me, and it wasn’t my fault. Well not entirely. I wasn’t the one who meant to get hurt. I didn’t ask the idiot who screwed my shoulder up to do that. I didn’t ask to be stuck doing light duty for a year. I didn’t ask to even stay at the hospital I was going to finish school and get out of nursing. But no, they called me back just to screw me over later.
I was the easy person. The one who still technically on payroll, and they could force into wherever they wanted as quickly as they wanted. So I stayed. I found myself enjoying the job, the give and take of the phone call, the desk, the patients, the nurses. Then the other shoe dropped, they wrote me up for something I had nothing to do with, and moved me to the night shift.
I was hesitant. I was scared. Not that I don’t like nights, but because hell, it had been over two years since last I’d been on nights. But that went away so fast my head spun. I enjoyed it. I reveled in it. I made friends, and the coworkers and I became a cohesive unit.
Then three weeks ago, on a Wednesday, I got a phone call. I had been written up again. A patient, we’ll call him John Smith has a history of complaining about his nurses. There were three nurses the last time he’d been in the hospital, that were written up and on the verge of firing.
The new nurse manager just read what the old drugged out nurse manager wrote on my earlier write up. The only write up I’d ever had relating to customer service.
And let’s be honest, that’s when the medical field went to shit. When we began to care more about customers and care less about patients.
This new manager decides that enough is enough and that I’ve really stepped in the preverbial shit this time, and so she tells me “Madison, you are on suspension pending termination.” Wait.. What?
Why not.. “Madison you are terminated.” What’s all this suspended pending termination. Is this “I think I want to fire you but I need to scratch my ass first?” or maybe “I’ll let you think you might have a job for three days, and then I’ll pull the wool off your eyes.”
Whatever it was I wasted no time in finding another job. By Thursday (ie- the next day) I had a job lined up for the following Wednesday.
Happy dance in check! I was gainfully employed. I darted off to the hospital to turn in my two week notice, which they never called me to say if I were fired, if I needed to work, or what have you I’m still waiting on that phone call.
So I started at a nursing home. It was wonderful, I actually enjoyed my job for the first time in forever. The residents were wonderful, even the grouchy ones. I’d worked there as a younger adult as an aide, and I knew some of the patients from the first two halls.
I was told to work the rest of the first week then from Monday through Thursday the next. Nice full schedule, I was assured I’d get Friday the next schedule then we’d work on more of an alternating day off schedule. I was hired for 6-2. Good hours. Also I was scheduled full time.
Imagine my surprise when I walked In and on day one I have a schedule that says I work 5 days In a full pay schedule.
I have to have full time hours. It’s imperative. I have this thing I’m trying to do. I am trying to move. I want to see more of the country. I want to be with the person that makes me smile.
But these hours aren’t even enough for me to pay my car payment and my insurance out of. I need hours.
Then the even weirder happens. I work through til the following Monday, find out that I am not even ON the schedule for the next pay period. I ask and get some weird rigamarole. I call on Wednesday my first of I don’t know how many days off, and the DON says and I quote.
“We have exhausted our overtime budget so it’s gonna be at least a week before you have any more hours. Probably longer than that actually.” I take a deep breath to steady myself and keep from lashing out with all the power of the yellow sun filled superman.
“So you’re telling me I won’t have any hours for at least two weeks Probably longer?”
“Yes, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t aware we were so close to filling the OT. Apparently our aides pulling extra hours really took a chunk out of the budget. I’m so sorry. Call back on the 15th and we’ll see if we have any other hours.”
Suddenly that sweet demeanor morphed into sickly sweet and condescending, but I was determined to give the place the shot that I felt it deserved. I have waited until Monday to find out about scheduling, and I will call in the morning before starting a job search unlike the world has ever seen.
And people wonder why I want to move away from here.
ps- I’m actually not waiting on Superman, I’m waiting for the super mistake of a life takes a right turn for once. Then I’ll super Fly my own ass out of here. 😀