February 1, 2012
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The middle….
Today feels like a victory. I’m comfortable on the job. Everything clicks into place, and I breathe easily. It’s not the perfect position; there’s no such thing. Today, I felt like I was ready to work alone. Big shakes for a facility that can’t even update a damned preference card so I can get the required equipment in the room. That’s how the old guard stays “superior” to the new hires. I’m confident enough to take a proactive approach, “We’d have fewer delays if we knew what we needed in the room. If the preferences were listed on the card, that would be a step in the right direction. Why I bet that we’d have less equipment conflicts if the required items were reserved when a procedure was booked!” That’s not the way they do things. I shrug.
It’s not rocket science. I won’t change the world. I hardly need that kind of migraine. I was called to my supervisor’s office over a misunderstanding. “He said that you told him that item was the only one we carried here.” I told my supervisor that I would never say such a thing; I had the Supplies Coordinator with me and she said that the order hadn’t come in. I, however, had said nothing; hell, I hadn’t known where the item was kept until the Supplies Coordinator showed us.. She tells me that the preceptor assigned to the room claimed that she wasn’t there. I stated that she was not only there, she was actively helping the other staff working in the room while I tackled the paperwork and charges. She looks away and tells me that she had to write me up.
I’m given nothing to sign. THAT is unlike any reprimand I’ve had in the past. When I talk to a colleague about it, she scoffs, “That’s not even a verbal warning! They’re giving you the business because you are a new hire!” She gives me the name of the Union Rep at work, “You’re entitled to representation. Sign a card!” I did that today. The Union Rep cautioned me about letting the supervisors know that I’m a union member, but any of us are allowed representation. I’ll gladly pay dues to keep these supervisors remotely in line.
D sends a text that I get when I’m leaving. He’s sweet, flirtatious. He wants to see me tomorrow after work. I think about how it used to be. Highs and lows….like a roller coaster. Waiting for him to become fickle and morose. Only now I think about New Years….and the long conversation at 3 am.
It’s still surreal. When I think about it….I was exhausted….but it was important for him to lay it all out…all the boundaries and expectations. When I asked if it could wait, he said it couldn’t. He had to talk to me. I didn’t say anything about the hour, but I figured he was blowing smoke out of his ass. I couldn’t tell if it was a drunken soliloquy or if he was sincere (I didn’t think so at the time, but I nodded a lot so that he would continue).
It IS different this time. I make no demands, no requests, and I’m apt to shrug when plans go awry, “Oh well, it doesn’t matter.” He surprises me by becoming a bit upset and by going out of his way. It’s amusing as hell. I hardly act like some bored woman, but the apathy is real and apparent. I don’t demand that he prove his feelings. I shrug, or worse….I don’t respond. When he bemoaned the fact that he’s not scheduled off for any of the days he has an event to attend, I shrugged and said, “So? Then you take vacation and go.” Then I shook my head as if I were dealing with a really stupid person. I had turned away, was leaving the room, when he said, “I’m not going to anything this year. I’m not wasting my vacation days.” I shrugged again because there was nothing to say. I turned away and walked to the next room. D followed me.
I didn’t ask anything else. No need. I don’t ask about the fair weathers. I don’t ask about the one who sent the notification. When he offers anything up, I listen, but ask no questions, I just nod. He doesn’t go out with the fair weathers three or four days a week like he used to..but it doesn’t phase me….. I don’t comment. I also don’t try to jump through hoops to see him. THAT bothers him a little. He recovers a little, but it’s apparent that I don’t give a shit.
It’s not a game. I seriously don’t. He knows that it’s the last chance. There are no do overs. When it doesn’t work this time, I’ll whistle while I pack. He knows that. It’s a driving force.
…..it’s pretty amusing to watch him pick out the perfect “thing” for me. It’s sweet, and I tell him that. I also have no issue saying that I’m around for as long as it lasts. He protested and joked about being smothered. I backed off, turned away, while saying, “I can go if you have other plans…” I wasn’t joking. He knew I wasn’t. It distressed him.
Beyond caring about shit like that….Not being cruel, but I’m done playing games.
