Not My Favorite Day
Today I feel lucky to be alive. Not because I've had yet another poignant experience at our hospice house, but because I travelled on the interstate during the morning commute time. I almost never use the interstate, and my drive to work completely bypasses that stretch of highway. Thank goodness, for those interstate people are maniacal! Cutting folks off, abruptly changing lanes... it's like the daft and deranged were all running late and were more concerned with shaving a few seconds off their trip than arriving in one piece.
Today I'm just feeling cross. No volunteers showed up to make breakfast, so the staff did it all. Including our director. Want to feel like you are not doing a good job? Cook pancakes along side your boss. I've never seen her cook here before. She does a fine job, but at a much slower pace than the rest of us. Whereas I was scrambling eggs and making toast and brewing coffee and answering the phone, all at the same time. And I was frazzled and overheated, and she was calm, making museum-worthy pancakes. But with an air of disapproval, as if I needed to know she really should have been doing 32 other things. Believe me, I know.
Today I'd like to shake a couple of volunteers. We had a hospice volunteer in the House. Because she's been through a 10-week training program, she is qualified to do things "my" volunteers can't, like work directly with residents. However, she is also a female human, which means she knows how kitchens work. But did she jump in to help cook? No... she stood in the kitchen, getting under our feet and making me want to whack her with a frying pan. Finally, after watching me unload and dry a second batch of dishes from the sanitizer, she asked, "Would you like me to help with that?" "Yes," I answered, and handed her a dishtowel. Only, she took about 13 minutes to dry each item. Instead of grabbing a handful of silverware and drying several pieces at once, she would pick up one knife, give it a spa-worthy massage, walk it across the room, place it lovingly in the flatware drawer, then saunter back to the sanitizer to grab another utensil.
Today I'm ready for menopause. I wore a sweater than is too heavy for pseudo-spring, but it was the only green, work-worthy thing I own. So I'm feeling a little hot-flashy, plus I'm wearing this sweater, plus I was working in a hot kitchen, plus I was running the dish sanitzer, which we operate at 160 degrees. Let's just say my antiperspirant failed me today. I was ready to go lie down in a snowbank.
Today I look like an eejit, for I've been walking around with a dishtowel slung over my shoulder. I kept dashing back into the kitchen to dry more dishes, and kept throwing the dishtowel over my shoulder. I spent an entire new-volunteer interview with a plaid dishtowel over my shoulder like a burp cloth.
Today I am going to grind my teeth into dust. My car is in the shop. It needs $350 worth of brake work. I'm driving an unfamiliar loaner car. My husband is testifying before the legislature, so getting off to work was a bit tense for us all. Two of my three interview appointments never showed up. One of the lunch volunteers was in a car accident. I may get fired, for I'm on the verge of snapped at one of the nurses who keeps coming into the kitchen and telling me how I should be doing things differently. I had to walk outside at one point, for I was so tempted to say, "So, _____. You can administer medications, or you can micromanage me, but you Can't. Do. Both." Wonder how THAT would have gone?
Today I'm just feeling cross. No volunteers showed up to make breakfast, so the staff did it all. Including our director. Want to feel like you are not doing a good job? Cook pancakes along side your boss. I've never seen her cook here before. She does a fine job, but at a much slower pace than the rest of us. Whereas I was scrambling eggs and making toast and brewing coffee and answering the phone, all at the same time. And I was frazzled and overheated, and she was calm, making museum-worthy pancakes. But with an air of disapproval, as if I needed to know she really should have been doing 32 other things. Believe me, I know.
Today I'd like to shake a couple of volunteers. We had a hospice volunteer in the House. Because she's been through a 10-week training program, she is qualified to do things "my" volunteers can't, like work directly with residents. However, she is also a female human, which means she knows how kitchens work. But did she jump in to help cook? No... she stood in the kitchen, getting under our feet and making me want to whack her with a frying pan. Finally, after watching me unload and dry a second batch of dishes from the sanitizer, she asked, "Would you like me to help with that?" "Yes," I answered, and handed her a dishtowel. Only, she took about 13 minutes to dry each item. Instead of grabbing a handful of silverware and drying several pieces at once, she would pick up one knife, give it a spa-worthy massage, walk it across the room, place it lovingly in the flatware drawer, then saunter back to the sanitizer to grab another utensil.
Today I'm ready for menopause. I wore a sweater than is too heavy for pseudo-spring, but it was the only green, work-worthy thing I own. So I'm feeling a little hot-flashy, plus I'm wearing this sweater, plus I was working in a hot kitchen, plus I was running the dish sanitzer, which we operate at 160 degrees. Let's just say my antiperspirant failed me today. I was ready to go lie down in a snowbank.
Today I look like an eejit, for I've been walking around with a dishtowel slung over my shoulder. I kept dashing back into the kitchen to dry more dishes, and kept throwing the dishtowel over my shoulder. I spent an entire new-volunteer interview with a plaid dishtowel over my shoulder like a burp cloth.
Today I am going to grind my teeth into dust. My car is in the shop. It needs $350 worth of brake work. I'm driving an unfamiliar loaner car. My husband is testifying before the legislature, so getting off to work was a bit tense for us all. Two of my three interview appointments never showed up. One of the lunch volunteers was in a car accident. I may get fired, for I'm on the verge of snapped at one of the nurses who keeps coming into the kitchen and telling me how I should be doing things differently. I had to walk outside at one point, for I was so tempted to say, "So, _____. You can administer medications, or you can micromanage me, but you Can't. Do. Both." Wonder how THAT would have gone?