We've been busy lately. I finally had a sit down with my supervisor to tell him what's going on with me and my burnout, and how I'm this close to pulling a Mailman and showing up to work in a dress with a submachine gun if I get off late one more day.
"It's ok. We'll move you next pay period."
Fast Forward: It is next pay period and I have gotten off late 8 shifts out of 11. I have not gotten my schedule changed because it would be to hard to flip around everyone's overtime, which is cool. I understand that. No one told me till last Sunday that I'd be on my shift for an extra two weeks. I mean, that should be on the list, right? Surely someone should tell Burnt Out, on the Verge of Tossing Down his ID and Keys and flipping the bird, followed by a set of deuces*, and storming out MedicMarch what the dealio is, right?
It's ok though. I'll be moving back in with my former roommates, back in my hometown, hopefully getting my old shift back, and hopefully going back to school in the fall.
Also, that BAND I mentioned last month? Well, as it turns out, they needed a bass player. So, now I am in a band again. It's a real stress reliever for me, and considering how much I've found myself inching into the red the past few weeks it's been pleasure to pick up my guitar and play a little. I had forgotten the importance of getting out of my own head from time to time - I used to just numb it all with drugs so I didn't have to worry about anything, almost at the cost of my life. I just need to build up my calluses again, cause my dainty Vaseline glove lady fingers are not made for shredding.
They've had me and my partner precepting new basics lately. I gave one a really bad review - this rookie was a mess. Poor hygiene, inadequate skills, unable to deal with the pace of things. We got a call, not even a bad one, but when things started moving a little quick she froze up, and I couldn't get her to get back in the saddle.
I would like to see more effort on the part of the preceptee, I wrote. Although they will follow commands I issue there is no independent thought or initiative.
I signed my name at the bottom. The next day, talking to another medic, he brings up the same preceptee.
"Totally froze up on me. I don't think they can hack it."
This individual is not XXXX company material. But we are hurting so bad that they are guaranteed a spot. I'm by no means a rowdy, gung-ho, XXXX company medic, but I do not think this person meets the minimum standards, and I do not want them wearing the same uniform as me.
Damn. When did I start caring?
I'm going to go jump over to Peter Canning's blog's greatest hits and check out that preceptee entry again. I don't think it'd hurt for me to read it one more time.