LJIDOL SEASON 8 PROMPT 8

[basric]

My medical Center pays nurses very well, but pays its manager a meager salary. So when our boss left for a better job the only people who apply either are looking for a three to five year position so they’d have Vanderbilt on their resume or they are fresh from getting their master’s degree in Healthcare Administration. We got the latter.

A month in the job, the new office of manager remained a mystery, night shift never saw her. No memos to make changes posted. Her concentration remained on the day shift.

Then the envelopes appeared in our office mailboxes. Anyone who had worked in trauma over three years had a mandatory appointment with the Medical Center’s shrink. The appointments were set one hour after our shift ended. Mine was first. Friday morning at nine after working fourteen hours on my feet in the middle of five nights in a row.

Administration apparently thought we were all stupid, I suppose. She scheduled the appointments when we are barely awake enough to drive home. You should be at your weakest, open and apt to answer without thinking, due to exhaustion.

We were given a packet of papers to fill out and to be sent in before our meeting. “DO YOU EAT DIRT?”, “DO YOU EAT METAL ITEMS?” “HAVE YOU TAKEN DRUGS TO GET HIGH?”, “ARE YOU UNABLE TO CONTROL YOURSELF IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS?” AND "DO YOU ENJOY THE SIGHT OF BLOOD."

These were just five of two hundred asinine questions. A flyer was enclosed that ensured us we could be completely honest for it would be kept completely confidential. I admit I was tempted to check yes on every question just for the hell of it.

After thirteen hours where I had been gowned, masked and goggled -- makeup and hair have long dissolved. The only concession I made, I dragged my hair back ruthlessly into a ponytail. I opted for the long walk through dusky tunnels three floor beneath the medical center and kept myself in night mode; rather than crossing the piazza outside that separated the main medical center from the outbuilding, one of which housed the psyche doctor offices.

I entered the expensively decked out secretary’s office complete with a fresh bouquet of flowers the size of a Volkswagen. The secretary gave me a sneering look from my shoes, oops was that a blood drop? how tacky, to my rumpled scrubs and lack of makeup. Shaking her head she pointed to the door behind her. (I admit to feeling bitchy and thought Lady I make more in one week than you do in a month.) Not nice.


Dr. A sipped tea from a dainty cup dabbed her lips and her eyes assessed me from head to toe.Her face showed she found me lacking.

Obviously, she was fairly new and hadn’t had a chance to redecorate since it was definitely a man’s office. Heavy dark wood dominated the aroma of the room mingling with the deep seated scents of leather, then a giant fish tank covered one wall that made up the décor.

She introduced herself and rocked her chair back and gave me an “I’m going to take you down, I am so much more intelligent than you” and motioned with a perfectly manicured hand for me to take the seat before her desk. She didn’t bother to shake my hand just made a production of opening a file; she held it up briefly where I could see my name before she spent five minutes flipping pages, and “Ummming”

“Barbara, I want you to know this is an informal interview and client/doctor privilege must be maintained by law. So, please feel free to be completely honest.”

Again she thought I was so stupid that I didn’t know the medical center/new boss was the client.

She roved her eyes over my hair and automatically touched her own perfectly coiffed knot. My appearance obviously offended her. This woman who wouldn’t last two minutes doing my job.

For another five minutes she sat and stared at me with her hands steepled at her chin. I had no intention of breaking the silence, if she wanted to sit for our hour in silence, fine. I was exhausted but I recognized her tactics for what they were and two could play her game.

I sat straight in my chair my feet flat on the floor my arms open on the chair arms and stared back into her eyes glancing away occasionally then back again. I have a minor in psyche so she wasn’t getting anything from my body language.

Finally in a melodious, calm voice, “There is a high burnout rate for nurses in Trauma, this is just to get a feel for your state of mind. I want you to understand we are going into this with no preconceived notions.”

Nothing.

“Why don’t we start with your childhood?”

“No.”

“Pardon?”

“No I will NOT discuss my childhood.”

I saw interest flare in her eyes, “Why don’t up tell me about your parents?”

“They are both dead”

She huffed and her voice went up an octave, “My sympathies. You are married with two children. Tell me about them.”

“No.”

Her face flushed, “And why not, you are being uncooperative. Tell me about your job, you see a lot of blood and death how do you cope. Does Trauma excite you?”

I stood, “Doctor, I leave my personal life at the door. Trauma is a job and I am good at it, I don’t need you inside my head especially a doctor who tries to mislead me,” I refused to let her interrupt,” You say its confidential yet I KNOW your client is the hospital not me and my file goes directly to my boss when you are finished. You have a packet of papers of incident reports filed against me so you HAVE already made up your mind, though I find it interesting she didn’t send you the resolutions. Maybe you should wonder about her motives. Oh, I can read upside-down, a little talent you can make a note of, and the copies have the staple mark but when you flipped to the next it wasn’t complete.

So you made up your mind long before I was forced to come here after working three night shifts getting less than 8 hours of sleep and will get less than four today because of this. You are enacting a farce, an with me exercise in futility.”

I reached for the door.

“Wait! I order you to stay, you can’t walk out. I have questions.”

“Lady, you are not the boss of me, and I’m not military I don’t follow orders, especially from you.”

As the door shut I believe I heard her scream in frustration. I found it rather amusing.

Of course, we all compared notes later and Rene said the entire thing was a travesty.”

“You’ve been reading the dictionary,” David replied.

What it was a fucking joke. Something she thinks she can hold over our heads and use to rid herself of people she wants kick loose."

I was the first she called into her office after all the evaluations were done. Now THAT'S a story.

Comments

[basric.livejournal.com]

People think I am too harsh on my opinions of PSYCH DOCTORS. But I'm just basing it on my own experiences. Thanks for commenting.