They're Out To Get You
One of my least, least favorite aspects of my job is pulling the repeat charts for the next day's surgeries. I hate this process because that's what it is, a process. Ideally, one should get the number and go into the back room and find it numerically in order. Not here. That's not how we do things at The Surge. Currently there are 11 different places a chart can be because it's only allowed in the file cabinets once it is complete. The key word is complete which on a very rare occasion actually happens. But I devised a system to help the search process to be easier and I even wrote up a page of instructions on how to use my system and even labeled where everything is with large index cards. You know, just in case I'm not here someone can find the charts.
Yeah. That doesn’t work. Not here. At any other business I'm sure detailed explanations on how to do a job would work but I'm not sure detailed explanations work here. I think only a few of us have the attention span to actually read something.
Today is a Ditkoff day. This particular doctor comes twice a month with almost 20 cases each day. He does one eye then two weeks later, the majority of them come back for the other cataract. What I do is keep all his files together by day so it cuts back on retrieving-repeat-chart time. Two days ago, Valerie comes in looking for a number of one of these patients that are returning today so I lug out the folder and plop it onto the desk. There are at least 12-14 charts in this thing. She watches me flip through them but I can't seem to find the name she's looking for. We chalk it up to the person might have been cancelled and I put the charts back in date order in the medical records room. Yesterday, I go to pull the charts so the nurses can prepare them for today. I grab the 9/20 folder. It's very light. Like, only two charts light.
I go and ask Cathy, our Director, Clinical Services (why there is no "of" in there is beyond me) if she might have pulled them already. She did not. I go to the Recovery Room and ask the nurses down there. They did not get them either. I'm not sure why I'm asking because no one ever helps me out and pulls them anyway but I just don't understand how 8 repeat charts just disappear from my office. I make sure to look for everything again and start to get upset. I stop. There is no use in getting upset over something I did not do. I'm starting to think I moved the charts somewhere without thinking but the fact that I left one repeat chart behind in the two that is left, leads me to believe I am not the one that moved them.
I think someone is fucking with me.
Okay, so someone does not like me. Understandable. I don't like me too sometimes so I understand someone may want to play a prank on me. But hiding someone's charts is not a prank. Most likely if dad wasn't my boss, I would be fired for something like this. How irresponsible to lose pertinent medical information. Total HIPAA violation. And believe me, I know HIPAA. Genesis made sure to drill it into our heads every single training. Now, I'm a good sport about pranks because if I do them then I have to expect them back.
The best one I pulled here was about two years ago when François kicks me off Debbie's computer to check his email while I am actually working. I am furious. He is dumb. I take advantage of this and simply crawl under the desk and pull out the internet cord just enough to make it not work but still look like it's attached. I then take my place in the kitchen and just watch as it all unfolds. Of course I fain ignorance when asked why it isn't working. I take this opportunity to talk to François like he's a child and I love every minute of talking down to a millionaire. And he listens intently to everything I say and tries every ridiculous option I give him. I wonder if I told him to hop on one foot in a circle while grunting like an ape makes the connection happen if he would have done it. Quite possibly. But to spend an hour in the kitchen watching everyone in the office try and figure it out is so worth me actually touching the dirty floor to play the prank in the first place.
So I understand someone hating me. But stealing work is not a prank. Putting mustaches on everyone in my Harry Potter calendar is a prank. Smearing glue on the outside of the phone is a prank. Switching color and black/white ink jets is a prank. Moving important files is not a prank. It's actually, against the law.
I have to leave for class so I tell dad what happened and he is infuriated. He spends extra hours later on in the night looking through everything but can not find it. He makes it known that this is a huge problem and heads will roll once it is figured out. This morning the files never turn up, not like last time when someone took the repeat charts then slyly stuck them back in random piles. And that time I had a suspicion who it might be. But this time, it could honestly be anyone.
My dad kinda knows me, you know? He knows I stack papers in certain orders and if something is removed I know by just looking at it. The man lived with me for 20 years, he knows I color coordinate the family's toothbrush holder and label extra buttons to which article of clothing they go to. This mystery prankster failed to learn one thing about me...I have moderate OCD.
They better hope these files never return. Because when they do, there's going to be an opening at The Surge.
Yeah. That doesn’t work. Not here. At any other business I'm sure detailed explanations on how to do a job would work but I'm not sure detailed explanations work here. I think only a few of us have the attention span to actually read something.
Today is a Ditkoff day. This particular doctor comes twice a month with almost 20 cases each day. He does one eye then two weeks later, the majority of them come back for the other cataract. What I do is keep all his files together by day so it cuts back on retrieving-repeat-chart time. Two days ago, Valerie comes in looking for a number of one of these patients that are returning today so I lug out the folder and plop it onto the desk. There are at least 12-14 charts in this thing. She watches me flip through them but I can't seem to find the name she's looking for. We chalk it up to the person might have been cancelled and I put the charts back in date order in the medical records room. Yesterday, I go to pull the charts so the nurses can prepare them for today. I grab the 9/20 folder. It's very light. Like, only two charts light.
I go and ask Cathy, our Director, Clinical Services (why there is no "of" in there is beyond me) if she might have pulled them already. She did not. I go to the Recovery Room and ask the nurses down there. They did not get them either. I'm not sure why I'm asking because no one ever helps me out and pulls them anyway but I just don't understand how 8 repeat charts just disappear from my office. I make sure to look for everything again and start to get upset. I stop. There is no use in getting upset over something I did not do. I'm starting to think I moved the charts somewhere without thinking but the fact that I left one repeat chart behind in the two that is left, leads me to believe I am not the one that moved them.
I think someone is fucking with me.
Okay, so someone does not like me. Understandable. I don't like me too sometimes so I understand someone may want to play a prank on me. But hiding someone's charts is not a prank. Most likely if dad wasn't my boss, I would be fired for something like this. How irresponsible to lose pertinent medical information. Total HIPAA violation. And believe me, I know HIPAA. Genesis made sure to drill it into our heads every single training. Now, I'm a good sport about pranks because if I do them then I have to expect them back.
The best one I pulled here was about two years ago when François kicks me off Debbie's computer to check his email while I am actually working. I am furious. He is dumb. I take advantage of this and simply crawl under the desk and pull out the internet cord just enough to make it not work but still look like it's attached. I then take my place in the kitchen and just watch as it all unfolds. Of course I fain ignorance when asked why it isn't working. I take this opportunity to talk to François like he's a child and I love every minute of talking down to a millionaire. And he listens intently to everything I say and tries every ridiculous option I give him. I wonder if I told him to hop on one foot in a circle while grunting like an ape makes the connection happen if he would have done it. Quite possibly. But to spend an hour in the kitchen watching everyone in the office try and figure it out is so worth me actually touching the dirty floor to play the prank in the first place.
So I understand someone hating me. But stealing work is not a prank. Putting mustaches on everyone in my Harry Potter calendar is a prank. Smearing glue on the outside of the phone is a prank. Switching color and black/white ink jets is a prank. Moving important files is not a prank. It's actually, against the law.
I have to leave for class so I tell dad what happened and he is infuriated. He spends extra hours later on in the night looking through everything but can not find it. He makes it known that this is a huge problem and heads will roll once it is figured out. This morning the files never turn up, not like last time when someone took the repeat charts then slyly stuck them back in random piles. And that time I had a suspicion who it might be. But this time, it could honestly be anyone.
My dad kinda knows me, you know? He knows I stack papers in certain orders and if something is removed I know by just looking at it. The man lived with me for 20 years, he knows I color coordinate the family's toothbrush holder and label extra buttons to which article of clothing they go to. This mystery prankster failed to learn one thing about me...I have moderate OCD.
They better hope these files never return. Because when they do, there's going to be an opening at The Surge.