Work and life
That's a deep subject line right there. I'm not gonna ramble for too long, though.
Not really sure what I wanna say even. I was asked by one of the oldies, as we were chatting before she went to bed, if I liked my job. I told her that I did, because I like working with people, and she told me she thought that I was really suitable for the job, which is the highest compliment you can get. Your collegues can give you compliments, but they're not the ones you're taking care of.
I guess it got me thinking, though, because as I told her that I liked my job, I felt like I was lying. It's not an awful job, as a matter of fact, it's the best I've had so far. Maybe it's the unpredictable nature of it. Not so much that you're inevitably working with people who've come to live out the last years of their lives, and thus might get seriously ill (see: die) at any time. But the fact that the quality of every work shift is so dependent on who's working. We're working with a minimum working force, so if one person isn't pulling their weight, you can tell instantly. Take that, plus the fact that the floor I work on is pretty heavy (lots of people you need to be two to help to bed, to the bathroom etc.) and the uneven work hours (12-21 one night, 7-16 the next day, or the classic one, 12-21 evening and then 7-12/16-21 the next day), it's tiring.
I don't know. I wasn't lying when I said I liked working with people, and I do enjoy the fact that having worked on that floor for a year now, I know how the routines go. And I know that this is just one facet of this kind of work, if I was working at a hospital, I wouldn't just be dealing with dying people (of course, I wouldn't be allowed at a hospital, since I have no formal education).
Or it could be that one of my fave oldies died last week, and I'm not feeling much about it. I mean, I understand that I need to distance myself, because otherwise work will bury me. But nothing, really?
Not really sure what I wanna say even. I was asked by one of the oldies, as we were chatting before she went to bed, if I liked my job. I told her that I did, because I like working with people, and she told me she thought that I was really suitable for the job, which is the highest compliment you can get. Your collegues can give you compliments, but they're not the ones you're taking care of.
I guess it got me thinking, though, because as I told her that I liked my job, I felt like I was lying. It's not an awful job, as a matter of fact, it's the best I've had so far. Maybe it's the unpredictable nature of it. Not so much that you're inevitably working with people who've come to live out the last years of their lives, and thus might get seriously ill (see: die) at any time. But the fact that the quality of every work shift is so dependent on who's working. We're working with a minimum working force, so if one person isn't pulling their weight, you can tell instantly. Take that, plus the fact that the floor I work on is pretty heavy (lots of people you need to be two to help to bed, to the bathroom etc.) and the uneven work hours (12-21 one night, 7-16 the next day, or the classic one, 12-21 evening and then 7-12/16-21 the next day), it's tiring.
I don't know. I wasn't lying when I said I liked working with people, and I do enjoy the fact that having worked on that floor for a year now, I know how the routines go. And I know that this is just one facet of this kind of work, if I was working at a hospital, I wouldn't just be dealing with dying people (of course, I wouldn't be allowed at a hospital, since I have no formal education).
Or it could be that one of my fave oldies died last week, and I'm not feeling much about it. I mean, I understand that I need to distance myself, because otherwise work will bury me. But nothing, really?