Crime & Punishment

It's only now the remains of the last few weeks have settled on the crypt floor that I can put it all in perspective and have a jolly good laugh about the whole work situation.  HaHaHa ... there, I did it.  Mirthless and dry but I'm still laughing about the crime I've committed by saying "No."  As with the Retail Cathedral, most employers these days have bought into the fantasy that all staff must be 'fully flexible'.  After 13 years of yoga I can bend over backwards with the best of them but I'm not going to commit to working practices that make idiots of us all.  Part of my punishment was being given awful shifts by the Replacement Rota Fairy, i.e.

• 10-12     Ward Filing because it's out of control due to staff shortages
• 12-2       Oncology Ward Clerk to prep this weeks notes because they are so far behind
• 2-4         Ward Clerk on a different ward to the first two
• 4-8         The Bunker - more filing but different to this morning
• Home      I finally had my lunch break

On the whole, it meant I couldn't get into any role before the needs of the business pulled me in a different direction.  Just like the Body Shop really.  And when I tore myself away from the filing at noon, I found the Oncology Admin Manager mumbling to herself; this happens a lot.  So I urged her to get it off her chest and she was unexpectedly forthcoming,
"I didn't take this job to be my own friggin' ward clerk."  Realising her gaff, she carried on digging her own hole.  "No offence Raven but ..."
"None taken." I know how much in demand I am and am considering banking for the NHS.  If only there was a hospital near me.  Still, the OAM kept on digging.
"Not that there's anything wrong with being a ward clerk."  Really?  "But the previous one did naff all for two hours and now you're here, why can't I keep you all day?"
"Perhaps you should consult the people who promoted you into this seat."  A rare moment of tact and diplomacy followed where I didn't refer the perks of her new role including an office with a nice, shiny desk.  I don't even have a locker for my handbag but then us bottom-feeder ward clerks don't count, do we?  The OAM carried on muttering for minutes until she almost burst with one final question.
"Where exactly do you think the problem lies here?"
"Criminally insane management?"  Too late, it was out before I could button my beak and no doubt I'll be punished for my honesty too.  It'll come out in conversation next time I'm chained to the wall over some miniscule discretion I didn't commit.

It was about this time that I reached my maximum number of mosquito bites for the summer and the skin on my wing erupted in a rather spectacular way.  Red, itchy and the size of a saucer.  And once you start scratching, the itch gets ten times worse until you're forced to immerse yourself in boiling water.  Aaaaahhh.  Then, when all the creams in Pharmacy had failed to get a result, I went to the doctors for a course of leeches.  I also got weighed and my BP taken, and left with my beak drooping and instructions to 'lose the belly' or else.  Difficult when there's a fresh box of Thornton's finest on the Ward every single day; all gifted from grateful patients.  On Saturday, someone had opened a monster tub of Quality Street, the one with the skull and crossbones on the lid, and everyone who walked past followed the same little dance routine.

• Skid to a halt
• Gaze into the tub looking for the purple one, or for the toffee button
• Say "Oh I shouldn't"  Well don't then ...
• Dip a claw into the pot hoping for their 3rd favourite
• Say "Which is the coconut?"  It's the blue oblong in case you don't know.
• Fifty times I croaked "Take some pleeeeeeease!"

The Rules of Governance don't allow me to use a camera at work but this would have made a brilliant hip-hop routine worthy of YouTube.  I had four in the end but not the toffee button because I want to hang on to my expensive fillings.  Ten minutes later I was buzzing from the sugar rush after a whole week of sugarless tea so the paperwork got mopped up in a frenzy and I could answer two phones at once.  By the end of my shift, I'd come down so hard that I had barely enough strength to eat tea.  Just a light, Quality Street salad for me Alphonse if you don't mind ...

Tip of the Blog:  I thought I'd try public transport for a change and left the car at home on Wednesday; an act of folly which turned me into Jeremy Clarkson.  Long story but don't catch Leicester's UHL bus and expect to get on or off anywhere along the route that isn't a hospital. Especially, don't expect to get off at a bus stop. They're there, you can see them and stand at them, but they don't work.  All this for a £3.00 day ticket.  Priceless.  And thanks to the driver who did stop thinking I was lost or deranged ... I'm neither despite reports to the contrary. 

Raven