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My glamorous new job as kennel assistant
I started the vet job this weekend under the supervision of Tery, who thoughtfully stayed with me all night after working her regular shift. That's the kind of considerate boss she is. I absolutely needed her to, because there is so much more to it than I expected and the woman who's been at it for 22 years doesn't have a lot of experience training people for it. She just hustled me through everything really quickly and superficially, doubtlessly anxious to avoid having me cut into her break time too much. Still, from working this weekend I'm optimistically thinking that I'm really going to enjoy this job.
Doubleplusgood #1: The uniform. I get to wear scrubs, and if you can't work in your underwear like I do when I'm working from home, then scrubs are the next best thing. So comfy and soft like pyjammies, and, unlike the cheap-ass material RGIS uniforms are made from, won't rip at the seams every time you reach above your head. I also love the Einsteinian decision-making the scrubs make of my regimen. Now when I'm dressing for work the only question is dark blue or light blue? (Leaves my brain free to consider other loftier issues.) Plus I'm sure it's making the Alcoholic, who monitors my every movement, insanely curious as to why I'm suddenly wearing medical garb when I leave the house.
Doubleplusgood #2: The solitude, the blessed solitude. I was right....having only animals for company is blissful. Being in the hospital after hours isn't as creepy as I feared, but of course I haven't been totally alone there yet. That might be a different story. It's in kind of a dodgy part of town and they have problems with homeless people and car windows being smashed in occasionally, but inside is reasonably secure. If it's safe for Joyce (the 22-year veteran) who's about 100 pounds overweight with hypertension and tendinitis, then it's nothing I can't handle, I'm sure.
Doubleplusgood #3: Driving to work at 9 pm. Means most of the idiots are safe at home, not out terrorizing me because I don't want to go 85 mph. Of course, this means (like tonight) that I'm that much more intolerant when I DO encounter the idiots because I've seen how much nicer it is without them. There's the passing lane, right there. Totally empty. USE IT, motherfucker.
Doubleplusgood #4: The job requirements. Cleaning shit doesn't bother me in the least, with two free-range ferrets who only remember the litter box about 1 time in 10. My biggest squick about the job was the threat of having to take rectal temperatures. Luckily for me this weekend I got to work with Roxie, a parvo puppy who was so starved for attention she didn't care what I did to her as long as I pet her while doing it. I'm not saying that I now look forward to taking temps, but I was glad I got to face this particular fear head on.
Doubleplusgood #5: The animals. The whole point, after all, is the animals. Here is the more memorable cast of characters (for this weekend anyway):
Then there were the not-so-good animals, which I expect is also inevitable in the job. #1 on this list is undeniably Honus, a beagle. Honus barked and barked and barked and barked all. night. long. I'm telling you, I could have cheerfully strangled him by the time the sun came up. Tery implored me to give him a pseudonym here on the infinitesimal possibility that his owners read my blog, but I said if they didn't know by now their dog can bark for 8 hours straight without stopping for breath, they needed to know. I secretly believe they aren't away on vacation at all, merely boarding him so they can get a good night's sleep for a change. He barked so much that when I finally got home and lay down to sleep, I could still hear him echoing in my ears.
The second of the most ill-mannered boarders was Buddy, a huge white shorthair cat. "Buddy" it turns out is the grossest misnomer ever, because the cat it belongs to is surely one of the most vicious creatures on the planet. I thought I could handle Buddy; I adore all cats. But no matter how sweetly or softly you spoke to Buddy, all you received in return were growls, spitting hisses and baleful glares of stabbity death for your trouble. I could only clean his cage and feed him with the aid of a squeegee in one hand and a broom head in the other, crouched in a lion tamer position. This cat was big enough and strong enough that he literally almost batted the squeegee out of my hand, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he had broken it right in half. No, Buddy wasn't to be trifled with or underestimated. "Mad at the world," was written on his chart. I suppose if I had to sleep with that beagle barking his fool head off next door all night I would be a little peeved too.
So that's my night. Cleaning cages, doing laundry, feeding animals and watching them poop, giving meds to patients, with a good 2 or 3 hours in between where there's nothing at all to do and I can nap, or read LJ, or watch a movie, or whatever. For this weekend I brought no entertainment and unfortunately the breakroom is equipped only with an ancient TV with an antenna. Last night I learned there isn't much to choose from at 2 am besides Spanish channels, a free Abba concert (worth every penny) and Weird Al Yankovic's opus, UHF. It turns out the latter was perfect to doze to and so I did, mightily.
Again speaking optimistically, the biggest difference I can see between this and RGIS is that at the end of the night I have a real sense of accomplishment, of feeling like I did some good in the world. Because of me, these animals are fed and sleeping comfortably on clean blankets (overlooking the matter of Honus, which was absolutely beyond my control). This must have been what Tery was talking about when she called inventory a soulless, meaningless job that did nothing to enrich her spiritually. Perhaps that's been my problem, I've been suffering a karmic drain all these years.
As I work these last nights of RGIS, I can't help mentally going through all the things about the job I won't miss. I won't miss roasting in mall stores all night (the hospital has lovely central air that's kept on all night long). I won't miss having my break dependent on the whim of a supervisor who has 40 things on their mind and my personal comfort is #39. I won't miss being trampled by customers or being treated like a moron by store people. I won't miss going to work with no idea how long of a night to expect, and relying on co-workers who I swear are people who applied to RGIS to appease the unemployment office, and then suddenly to their shock and dismay found themselves actually being hired. I won't miss having to watch increasingly stupid decisions being made by my "superiors" as this company thinks more about the bottom line and less about incentives to keep experienced veterans working for them.
This is the epiphany I had while talking to Tery. I believe people go through stages when they work for a company for an extended time. When you're first hired, you're optimistic, energetic and usually fairly ignorant about the detailed workings of the job. Ignorance is most definitely bliss, for it is ignorance that allows you to come to work, do what you're told and collect your paycheck happily at the end of the week. But if you stick around long enough, ignorance is lost as you learn more and become more experienced. This is good in terms of comfort level at work, but bad because it means you're relied upon to do more of the dirty work they don't give newbies. And if you stick around really long enough (like, say, 14 years), you have time to realize how things are supposed to be done and can therefore become frustrated and bitter when they aren't done correctly and aren't being run as smoothly as they could be (assuming you are a conscientious person who cares about doing a good job). That's about where I am right now. That's where Tery is at the hospital, only she's management now so she has more control over seeing things are done correctly. I figure MyFriendDeb has gone on to stage IV -- she knows things could be better but she's willing to turn a blind eye because it's easier than finding another job. More power to her and to everyone else at this stage, I say. Me, I need something more. Let's hope I found it.
Doubleplusgood #1: The uniform. I get to wear scrubs, and if you can't work in your underwear like I do when I'm working from home, then scrubs are the next best thing. So comfy and soft like pyjammies, and, unlike the cheap-ass material RGIS uniforms are made from, won't rip at the seams every time you reach above your head. I also love the Einsteinian decision-making the scrubs make of my regimen. Now when I'm dressing for work the only question is dark blue or light blue? (Leaves my brain free to consider other loftier issues.) Plus I'm sure it's making the Alcoholic, who monitors my every movement, insanely curious as to why I'm suddenly wearing medical garb when I leave the house.
Doubleplusgood #2: The solitude, the blessed solitude. I was right....having only animals for company is blissful. Being in the hospital after hours isn't as creepy as I feared, but of course I haven't been totally alone there yet. That might be a different story. It's in kind of a dodgy part of town and they have problems with homeless people and car windows being smashed in occasionally, but inside is reasonably secure. If it's safe for Joyce (the 22-year veteran) who's about 100 pounds overweight with hypertension and tendinitis, then it's nothing I can't handle, I'm sure.
Doubleplusgood #3: Driving to work at 9 pm. Means most of the idiots are safe at home, not out terrorizing me because I don't want to go 85 mph. Of course, this means (like tonight) that I'm that much more intolerant when I DO encounter the idiots because I've seen how much nicer it is without them. There's the passing lane, right there. Totally empty. USE IT, motherfucker.
Doubleplusgood #4: The job requirements. Cleaning shit doesn't bother me in the least, with two free-range ferrets who only remember the litter box about 1 time in 10. My biggest squick about the job was the threat of having to take rectal temperatures. Luckily for me this weekend I got to work with Roxie, a parvo puppy who was so starved for attention she didn't care what I did to her as long as I pet her while doing it. I'm not saying that I now look forward to taking temps, but I was glad I got to face this particular fear head on.
Doubleplusgood #5: The animals. The whole point, after all, is the animals. Here is the more memorable cast of characters (for this weekend anyway):
- There's Blackjack, a 6-month-old Sheltie puppy. He's like a ferret in dog form and so adorable I could've eaten him up. He plays this game where he dances around just out of reach, becoming more and more excited the closer you get, until he lets you scoop him up into your arms. When he's not being carried he prances around like the cock of the walk. Sooooooo precious.
- There's the Corgi herd, Pokie, Gizmo and Speedo, who line up like perfect little gentlemen to get their treats before returning to their kennel. Who doesn't love Corgis?
- There's Shanahan, a big white German shepherd, who never barked and who stared up at me with complete adoration in his big black eyes.
Then there were the not-so-good animals, which I expect is also inevitable in the job. #1 on this list is undeniably Honus, a beagle. Honus barked and barked and barked and barked all. night. long. I'm telling you, I could have cheerfully strangled him by the time the sun came up. Tery implored me to give him a pseudonym here on the infinitesimal possibility that his owners read my blog, but I said if they didn't know by now their dog can bark for 8 hours straight without stopping for breath, they needed to know. I secretly believe they aren't away on vacation at all, merely boarding him so they can get a good night's sleep for a change. He barked so much that when I finally got home and lay down to sleep, I could still hear him echoing in my ears.
The second of the most ill-mannered boarders was Buddy, a huge white shorthair cat. "Buddy" it turns out is the grossest misnomer ever, because the cat it belongs to is surely one of the most vicious creatures on the planet. I thought I could handle Buddy; I adore all cats. But no matter how sweetly or softly you spoke to Buddy, all you received in return were growls, spitting hisses and baleful glares of stabbity death for your trouble. I could only clean his cage and feed him with the aid of a squeegee in one hand and a broom head in the other, crouched in a lion tamer position. This cat was big enough and strong enough that he literally almost batted the squeegee out of my hand, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he had broken it right in half. No, Buddy wasn't to be trifled with or underestimated. "Mad at the world," was written on his chart. I suppose if I had to sleep with that beagle barking his fool head off next door all night I would be a little peeved too.
So that's my night. Cleaning cages, doing laundry, feeding animals and watching them poop, giving meds to patients, with a good 2 or 3 hours in between where there's nothing at all to do and I can nap, or read LJ, or watch a movie, or whatever. For this weekend I brought no entertainment and unfortunately the breakroom is equipped only with an ancient TV with an antenna. Last night I learned there isn't much to choose from at 2 am besides Spanish channels, a free Abba concert (worth every penny) and Weird Al Yankovic's opus, UHF. It turns out the latter was perfect to doze to and so I did, mightily.
Again speaking optimistically, the biggest difference I can see between this and RGIS is that at the end of the night I have a real sense of accomplishment, of feeling like I did some good in the world. Because of me, these animals are fed and sleeping comfortably on clean blankets (overlooking the matter of Honus, which was absolutely beyond my control). This must have been what Tery was talking about when she called inventory a soulless, meaningless job that did nothing to enrich her spiritually. Perhaps that's been my problem, I've been suffering a karmic drain all these years.
As I work these last nights of RGIS, I can't help mentally going through all the things about the job I won't miss. I won't miss roasting in mall stores all night (the hospital has lovely central air that's kept on all night long). I won't miss having my break dependent on the whim of a supervisor who has 40 things on their mind and my personal comfort is #39. I won't miss being trampled by customers or being treated like a moron by store people. I won't miss going to work with no idea how long of a night to expect, and relying on co-workers who I swear are people who applied to RGIS to appease the unemployment office, and then suddenly to their shock and dismay found themselves actually being hired. I won't miss having to watch increasingly stupid decisions being made by my "superiors" as this company thinks more about the bottom line and less about incentives to keep experienced veterans working for them.
This is the epiphany I had while talking to Tery. I believe people go through stages when they work for a company for an extended time. When you're first hired, you're optimistic, energetic and usually fairly ignorant about the detailed workings of the job. Ignorance is most definitely bliss, for it is ignorance that allows you to come to work, do what you're told and collect your paycheck happily at the end of the week. But if you stick around long enough, ignorance is lost as you learn more and become more experienced. This is good in terms of comfort level at work, but bad because it means you're relied upon to do more of the dirty work they don't give newbies. And if you stick around really long enough (like, say, 14 years), you have time to realize how things are supposed to be done and can therefore become frustrated and bitter when they aren't done correctly and aren't being run as smoothly as they could be (assuming you are a conscientious person who cares about doing a good job). That's about where I am right now. That's where Tery is at the hospital, only she's management now so she has more control over seeing things are done correctly. I figure MyFriendDeb has gone on to stage IV -- she knows things could be better but she's willing to turn a blind eye because it's easier than finding another job. More power to her and to everyone else at this stage, I say. Me, I need something more. Let's hope I found it.
no subject
Scrubs are awesome! I used to go shopping for scrubs with my mom cause she's done a lot of secretary work in hospitals.
no subject
I lurve my scrubs, even if I look like an actor in an adult continuing education commercial.