Mean Girls pt2…

I returned to General Practice Veterinary Medicine after four months of working  12-14 overnight shifts in Veterinary Emergency care. Time spent in ER was incredible in terms of experience gained and processing death from trauma. I truly miss the doctors and eager vet students I was fortunate to work with. Their love of medicine and the desire to save all God’s creatures from injuries was unprecedented. I realize the privilege to work with this crew and although  BP misplaced me in terms of job title and where I truly needed to be, which inevitably led to my failure-I forgive. Nothing can replace what I saw, did, treated, prayed over, held as the last breath was released, can ever measure up to the experiences gained in working overnight emergency.

20151016_130102 (2)

Fate’s OHE-spay (uterus)

And…

BP will accept me back.

After…20141128_154254-1 (2)

More time spent in GP.

Yes. I miss ER.

But…

My body and emotional mindset is exhausted.

I no longer shed tears at PTS’s (put to sleep). 20141107_103448 (2)

Not in front of clients.

Not in the bathroom.

Not on the train going home.

But…

At night, when I stare at the ceiling at bedtime.

I guess it’s all good in some sick way for I can now concentrate on the owners and offer more support from mi alma which no longer feels.

My blog on transitioning to this career has ended. My thoughts on the continuance in this career  as well as school is now questionable. 20151024_071642 (2)

Because…

The other side of this business is still present and for that matter,  will always be. As long as there are insecure, unstable nurses-the Mean Girls , in this field the drama will thrive.

Don’t want to end up on NY1 so I’ve grown thick skin, a thick heart an emotional void and most importantly the desire to have only working relationship with them.

No, you are not my friend or close confident.

No, I do not need your approval to validate how I do my job.20150417_152313 (2)

No, I will not gossip about other co-workers, maliciously or even constructively with you.

No. No. No.

Accusing me of not cleaning?

Please watch the video.

2016 is in full string and transitions seem to be lining up. I’ve thought about leaving the state in search of Tech Nursing work. My mind is working, talking to others who have relocated and gauging if this is a necessary transition to make.

Time will tell. Actually the Fall will tell.

I’m biting at the bit and I love an adventure.

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Why not?

Cali, Georgia, one of the Carolina’s. Florida? Virginia, Washington, Seattle?

Who knows.

 

2016 or Starting in a New Direction…Come what may

“Po: Maybe I should just quit and go back to making noodles.”

Thought this New Year would be like any other New Year’s spent in the past:  bed by 10pm New Year’s Eve and waking up to the same old same way on New Year’s Day.

I was wrong.

First…

I made plans to go out on New Year’s Eve, to eat, drink and be merry. I did eat, drink and was merry by sipping on bourbon drinks, champagne, sparkling wine and eating at a restaurant in the hood with some special people who made socializing for an introvert comfortable.

Second…

Leading up to the New Year was not so good job wise. I left the job that hired me when no other would. Not going into specifics, it was a decision based on hurt. Hurtful in the way my boss handled a dispute with a co worker-by, doing, nothing. It seems as if climactic events in mi vida spur up at this time of year.

“When the path you walk always leads back to yourself, you never get anywhere” Oogway 

The time had come to move on and although I’ve known this for a while, pushing myself to do so was another thing. Comfort/Familiarity at times can stifle growth. Why take a chance, throwing your back to wind, and riding on a gust when it’s easier to slip into flannel pajamas and watch a marathon of SVU on the tube?

By leaving this job, I’ve placed my school in jeopardy as I no longer have a preceptor. My fur babies no longer have a doctor. My discounts from working there are no longer available which puts me on high alert in regards to providing pet care and meds for the fur babies.

It’s okay.

“One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it” Oogway

New-Year-Eve-2016

Third…

I am working in a Specialty Hospital in Emergency Room and Internal Medicine. I am WAY OVER my head and up to now don’t understand why I was hired as a Tech. I enjoy what I do although it is hard to deal with some of the ER cases or dealing with emergency mode when techs and doctors are trying to resuscitate an animal to no avail. I have trouble calculating meds and I’m not familiar with some of the meds or lab machines used in this specialty. At times, I feel like an idiot and question why I was not hired as an assistant when it seemed this was the direction the interview process was leading to.

But…

I was told I qualify under “License Eligible” due to my enrollment in a vet tech program. I want to believe an accident was made but…

“There are no accidents” Oogway

So begins 2016 and I have no worries about the past because it is done. No worries about the future (at least let me believe I don’t) and presently I am okay with where I’m at.

 

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling…

It is now two months into my career transition from an Administrative Assistant to that of a Veterinary Technician Assistant.

The transition was subtle and quiet.

My former job was mundane and my interest waned. I arrived at my new job on day two and was tossed into ‘trial by fire’ for on that day the boss had me deal with cat/dog restraints, surgeries, and filling chemo prescriptions. I survived and did not faint or throw up during the surgery.

The cat restraints look like this:

I complained at one time of sitting too much at the former job-now I stand for eight hours a shift. I eat lunch standing, I fill prescriptions standing, I assist with surgery standing…I stand.

I complained at one time of being disturbed during my one hour lunch break. Now, there are no lunch hour breaks, no five-minute break, no eating my bagel before starting the day’s work. No break.

I complained about the mundane repetitive duties. Now, some duties are repetitive but the clients and animals always present a new experience.

I complained about boredom and no room for growth. I now give medical injections and express the bladder of the resident kitty, who cannot do so on her own, as well as walking and cleaning up after dog boarders and medical boarders while simultaneously running the washer and dryer and cleaning up cat litter trays…this stops here.

Am I unhappy with the transition? No. Do I miss my other job? No. Have I thought about my other job? No.

After a shift, I return home pumped with adrenaline from the day’s work and it takes a while for it to dissipate. I do not come home stressed out or angry. I do not go to work stressed out and angry.

My former job:

The sound of work at my current job:

I like my current job.

Transitions

Transition-The process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another

I am currently in the forever process of searching for a new job.

Forever, because it is going on two years now and I remain employed at a MICA (Mentally Ill Chemical Abusers) shelter run by a non-profit of the most horrific kind. Shelter culture is not a nice culture to be a part of for both residents and staff. The stress of emotional pain and anger encountered Monday through Friday, eight hours a day, mixed in with drug addiction is taxing on the body (residents) and grinds down the part of the heart, which once held compassion (staff). Needless to say, in response to my frayed nerves and too many glasses of wine after work, countless resumes flow through my email account on a daily basis to prospective employers.

Of course, I receive countless replies in the form of- NO RESPONSE.

Although, hopeful at first, I no longer anticipate an invite for an interview but, my finger continues to tap the ‘send’ button’ with resume attachment in tow.

But one day

A reply came in…

The position was for an administrative assistant at the Brooklyn museum. The museum of my childhood! Excellent location, near the library and Prospect Park and I could walk to work and run home for lunch. The duties entailed bookkeeping, basic office manager with a great starting salary.

The interview

The interview took place over the phone but headed towards the resume dumped in the trash bin direction, once I opened my mouth. The director of the department hiring began the interview with the generic asinine, “Why is the position of interest to you?”, question which I find insulting to any person with a functioning brain.

My response, “Because of the growth opportunities”.

What do you mean by growth? Are you using this position to get your foot in the door then transfer to another department?”

Um no”.

This is an administrative job with the same duties performed on a daily basis. There is no growth. Let me look at your resume.”

As I heard her flipping through pages, I thought, Didn’t the idiot read my resume before calling?

The director returned to the phone.

You’re over qualified for this position. You will be bored.”

Needless to say, the conversation went no further.

Thanks for the interview”, I said and quietly hung up the phone receiver.

Bored?

Did she just say bored?

This phrase ruminated throughout my brain for the next two days as well as every feminine curse word aimed at this faceless director who had allot of nerve assuming I’d be bored with a dumb administrative assistant position at an over caddy presumptuous Brooklyn museum.

She was right.

For the past fourteen years, I have worked as an administrative assistant, with a three year hiatus as a NYC public school special education teacher, and to be honest, found admin work, BORING- usually after a month on the job.

This interviewer, whom I perceived as harsh, was in fact insightful. The message delivered in a non-pleasing way delivered and thankfully, after the steam stopped seeping from my angry brain, I was able to see truth through the
vapours.

I am presently researching prospects and no longer send out resumes for administrative work. I am now in the midst of a transition.

re·spect

re·spect

noun

1.esteem for or a sense of the worth or excellence of a person, a personal quality or ability, or something considered as a manifestation of a personal quality or ability: I have great respect for her judgment.
2.deference to a right, privilege, privileged position, or someone or something considered to have certain rights or privileges; proper acceptance or courtesy; acknowledgment: respect for a suspect’s right to counsel; to show respect for the flag; respect for the elderly.
3. the condition of being esteemed or honored: to be held in respect.

Respect is a funky word usually associated with emotional outward feelings of admiration, glory or submission. One does not need to be liked to be respected. Respect earns respect, higher salaries, faster promotions, an office with a view and a personal assistant, home cooked meals and an occasional lick from a dog.

But, when it is slow to acknowledge, or omitted at a time when it is most important, lack of Respect can be the catalyst of horrific wars.

Respect is fickle and fleeting as are the people we encounter. Those who love you at first may demand your head in the gallows thirty seconds later. If you don’t respect me, I’m not going to respect you or I’ll pretend to respect you if I get that office, without the view but with the personal assistant.

I have yet to figure out Respect’s presence in the workplace. There is definitely a grey area and most likely the few who deserve it are obscure by the ones who definitely don’t.  Good acting skills are required in order to spend eight hours of our day in co-existence with people we’d never socialize with outside of work. Of course having a semi-private office with a door and lock helps tremendously with the figuring out.

There was a time back in the day when Respect was earned. Hard work, diligence, attention to detail, not sweating the small stuff was enough to get just about anybody a little respect. But Respect under the lull of fluorescent lights, claustrophobic cubicles wedged amongst Xeroxes and fax machines, has changed.  The dynamics of Respect is lost within the caustic vapors of the Xerox toner cartridges.

It is emotionally difficult to respect co-workers from hell especially those in need of a serious exorcism.  How do you exude admiration, adoration, and submissive behaviour from being in the company of greatness, towards someone you’d rather kick? How fast can I run under a desk when my lack of Respect towards a co-worker, has been outted by my facial expression of disgust and eye rolling at their ghetto way of talking?

There is no employee manual on the usage of Respect nor are we at birth infused with the Respect juju.
A slight given is a slight taken. You step on my suede shoes, I’ll step on yours.

Our world would be such a nice place to hang out in if Respect was held in the same esteem as a Play Station console.

Life as I Know It

Life as I know it is my present state of being. I am unemployed, financially broke and experienced major changes to my lifestyle in order to deal with the have-nots of the wants vs. the needs. Although the finances bring conflict and uncertainty, life as I know it has also brought time.

Time has enabled me to pursue my hobbies which cultivate and encourage my well-being.  The hobbies expand as I explore new ideas but for now, the following are my areas of concentration: writing, piano, knitting, journaling, volunteering, and going to museums.

When life revolves around the nine to five work grind, my hobbies suffer because time is spent commuting, working, preparing lunches and dinners and living. Hobbies are regulated to an hour before going to bed and weekends after running errands and cleaning.

Work is to make money, hobbies are to flourish and nourish the artist within.  My unemployment has allowed the hobbies to consume my days and lullaby me to sleep at night knowing that I will return to them the next day.

My hobbies do not pay the rent or cover the monthly utilities. Work, when I had it, did. I send out resumes on a daily basis but the enthusiasm for finding my dream job has long evaporated. I have had those dream jobs and barely survived the physical and emotional tolls inflicted on my soul.

The truth is, even though I know eventually an interview will give way to steady employment, the thought of losing the time spent with my hobbies is depressing.  My hobbies are not moneymaking prospects for if they were, then the joy of empowerment and vindication would evaporate. The hobbies would transcend from a place of calm and comfort to the realm of capitalism, greed and survival. No. My hobbies will remain hobbies.

In the meantime, the search for employment continues reluctantly. The return to the “office” is dreaded for multi-tasking paper pushing duties numbs the brain. The “team playing” co-workers are a charade because teams (and salaries) do not function cohesively but rather as individuals competing for raises, ruthless in their office gossip and “passing the buck” on workload and responsibility.  

Fluorescent lighting used in most offices does not help to calm this dysfunctional environment. The ghastly stark green tinged tones are reminiscent of the lighting in science labs where rats run through complicated mazes in search of a cheese reward.

At the office, while fluorescent lighting beams on them, workers run through mazes of cloth-covered cubicles. These workers do not seek the cheese. They seek answers from the human resource rep whose email citing corporate changes in bonus’ and reduce salaries has led to workplace pandemonium!  Chaos has spread! Who will lead them back to the nine to five grind?

The answer- “Who Moved My Cheese?”, piped over the office intercom by way of “Books on Tape”.  It may be the only way to pacify the office rat race workers but not the lab rats, they’re happy with the cheese.

With all this drama taking place seven hours a day, possibly five or more days a week,  in just about any office setting, non-profit or academia,  it’s not surprising that by the end of a workday, workers are exhausted, anxious and frustrated with depleted mojos.  Moreover, to think they are up the next morning ready to repeat the same drama-different day routine.  

I will continue to send out resumes and pray for a job to pay the bills. I will also continue to bask in the extra time I have with my hobbies and not allow them to end up in the drawer of forgotten items when a job breaks through.

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