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fredericksGotten yelled at by two docs over the last week for *doing my job*, which is utterly ridiculous but still has left me feeling crappy. Even if I'm doing all I can I end up walking around feeling incompetent so anyone who aggressively tells me so adds to the situation. I find myself sapped of energy at the end of the day, and this whole cycle of work-work-sleep, lather/rinse/repeat has become old fast. I've applied for a change in position, an office spot (mainly office; field work still required, but the focus will be assisting at the home base) that's recently opened up. My manager seemed pretty stoked about my interest in the job, but it really depends on what the regional managers thinks and whether they're willing to take a gamble on me since I'll only just have one year of home care experience come June. I hope I get it, because I can't see how I'd ever be able to go to school even part-time with the schedule I'm keeping now (it also comes with a slight salary increase, so *bonus*).
I called one of my co-workers on something work-related this afternoon and she just went on and on (she's lovely, but one of those high-energy frenetic folk who's always "oh my god!"ing and, yeah) about how she's seeing so many patients and the cases are so heavy and "oh my god!" she's tired of this job and we have to leave together. Speaking with this woman always leaves me feeling like I just can't do anything *well enough* or *fast enough* because she seems to handle everything efficiently...even while bitching and moaning. I've noticed there's a lot of that in my line of work: people like to complain that they're so overwhelmed because they've seen X amt of patients, but really they just want to brag about the fact that they can regularly handle seeing X number of patients. Anyway, I didn't tell her I'd applied for the position; I figure if I get it I'll tell her before it's announced at our meeting, and if I don't no one's the wiser.
And I'm working this weekend. *headdesk*
My youngest brother was quick to tell me that he was wearing middle bro's jeans (he actually started out the conversation with "how do my jeans look?", which I guess is guy-speak for "how do I look in my jeans?"), because he's lost enough weight that his jeans don't fit him properly anymore. He's managed to lose about 20 pounds over the last year and a half with only minor changes in his intake ("no soda" being the main one). I've never seriously contemplated the effects growing up overweight has on young boys. Young boys have always seemed to have more leeway when it comes to being large - they may be called "fat", but they're still generally considered date material and they're not called ugly. Or maybe I'm wrong about things. Anyway, my weight loss attempts when I was in high school were attempts to quiet the negative voices in my head and make myself more attractive to others. Little bro's weight loss is to improve his speed on the football field. *shrug*
Still reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. I've just passes the Pemberley section (ahh, Pemberley...I'm totally flashing back to the BBC version here). The author's Victorian double entendres are completely hilarious (because I'm stuck in middle school I find Darcy telling Elizabeth "My balls belong to you" when she attempts to return the ammunition for the gun he lent her v.v. giggle-worthy). Gotta figure out what to read next.
Three and a half weeks until vacation. Can't wait!
I called one of my co-workers on something work-related this afternoon and she just went on and on (she's lovely, but one of those high-energy frenetic folk who's always "oh my god!"ing and, yeah) about how she's seeing so many patients and the cases are so heavy and "oh my god!" she's tired of this job and we have to leave together. Speaking with this woman always leaves me feeling like I just can't do anything *well enough* or *fast enough* because she seems to handle everything efficiently...even while bitching and moaning. I've noticed there's a lot of that in my line of work: people like to complain that they're so overwhelmed because they've seen X amt of patients, but really they just want to brag about the fact that they can regularly handle seeing X number of patients. Anyway, I didn't tell her I'd applied for the position; I figure if I get it I'll tell her before it's announced at our meeting, and if I don't no one's the wiser.
And I'm working this weekend. *headdesk*
My youngest brother was quick to tell me that he was wearing middle bro's jeans (he actually started out the conversation with "how do my jeans look?", which I guess is guy-speak for "how do I look in my jeans?"), because he's lost enough weight that his jeans don't fit him properly anymore. He's managed to lose about 20 pounds over the last year and a half with only minor changes in his intake ("no soda" being the main one). I've never seriously contemplated the effects growing up overweight has on young boys. Young boys have always seemed to have more leeway when it comes to being large - they may be called "fat", but they're still generally considered date material and they're not called ugly. Or maybe I'm wrong about things. Anyway, my weight loss attempts when I was in high school were attempts to quiet the negative voices in my head and make myself more attractive to others. Little bro's weight loss is to improve his speed on the football field. *shrug*
Still reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. I've just passes the Pemberley section (ahh, Pemberley...I'm totally flashing back to the BBC version here). The author's Victorian double entendres are completely hilarious (because I'm stuck in middle school I find Darcy telling Elizabeth "My balls belong to you" when she attempts to return the ammunition for the gun he lent her v.v. giggle-worthy). Gotta figure out what to read next.
Three and a half weeks until vacation. Can't wait!
