The Burden of the Hoard

Here we go again. Another update after a long absence. I’m certain nobody cares anymore at this point, but I’m compelled to write because things have happened, and once again, I can’t talk to my friends about it.

First, I have been employed since November 2023 as a nurse in a Psychiatric facility. It’s not bad work on a good day, but it’s scary and life-threatening on a bad one. One particularly bad day ended when I got bashed in the head and ended up in the ER with a minor concussion. Most days weren’t like that though. Most days were simply dealing with people with pretty severe psych problems — schizophrenics mostly. The BPD patients were the ones who really tried my patience, but most days, it was okay.

However, this being upstate NY, we had a few days of severe weather during which, I called out. That plus the call out when my head got bashed by a patient meant I had taken one too many days off. A month shy of my six-month contract — two weeks ago — I was summarily canned. Luckily for me — or so I thought — I had another job lined up, also in psych, but closer to home. My assumption that it would go easy was absolutely wrong. Even though I’d already successfully interviewed and been offered the job, additional paperwork and a background check had to be submitted. Which I did. And now I’m stuck in limbo awaiting a start date. I wanted to start this week — actually, I wanted to start LAST week — but nothing is in writing yet. Very disappointing. And scary, because I’m literally down to my last $300. After all that time, I barely saved anything. I wasn’t expecting to be fired without so much as a warning.

Anyhoo, so that’s where I’m at. $300 to get me — at best — through the next two weeks with no additional income. I’ve signed up to start DoorDashing again, but since I’m no longer Top Dasher status, and it’s the end of the month, I’m not being offered anything of worth. No idea what I’m going to do.

In the meantime… I got a strange local call on my phone this morning. That started a whole new pile of crapola that I’m now literally knee deep in.

So, you may remember that in November of 2021, I moved out of my shithole hovel hoarded apartment into this new, elegant one-bedroom locale. You may also remember that I didn’t bring much of anything with me except my dog and the clothes on my back. Well, I’ve been paying rent on both places ever since, not wishing to deal with the hoard and the mess that I left behind. I felt that if I could just lose some weight and get some money, I could buy my way out of the situation somehow.

Well, you can’t run away from destiny.

The phone rang and it was the thing I’d been dreading. There was a leak in the bathroom and they needed to get into the apartment to fix it.

I’ve been gone so long that they now have a new superintendent for the building — a very nice chap named Dave. I explained my absence with a white lie: I’m staying “with a friend” elsewhere (hinting that it’s a boyfriend) and that I’ve been worried the relationship won’t work out which is why I’ve kept the old apartment, in case I needed to move back in.

It’s not entirely a lie. That is “part” of the reason why I kept it. Every time something goes wrong here at this new luxury suite, I fear I’ll be kicked out and land back where I started.

So — let me get to the point — Dave bought the story and is allowing me a couple days to spiff up the apartment before he goes in to fix the leak.

HOWEVER — this means, I need to clean up, and fast. I have a feeling he’s seen the place because he said “if you can just clean up the bathroom, I’ll get in and out and we’ll be done before you know it.”

I think he knows.

Anyway, for the first time in literally a year, I went back to the old place. First thing that strikes you is that everything in my hallway looks dusty and deserted — like someone hasn’t been there in years (because they haven’t!) The second thing that catches as you go up the stairs, the closer you get, is the faint musty, mousey odor. It’s a unique smell — not one you run across unless you know someone who’s a hoarder. It’s a funky, slightly spoiled odor, faintly urine-like. Definitely off-putting. At the top of the stairs, I noticed the hall light was out. There were old shoes, long forgotten and covered in dust. I fumbled with the keys, but eventually got the door open.

Inside, everything is covered in dust. Piles of debris and detrius everywhere, just as I’d left it. Old clothes. Shopping bags. Dirt. And tons of mouse droppings. Mouse droppings all over everything.

In the bathroom, accessible after walking over more shopping bags and old mashed clothes, the toilet was noted to be empty of water, except for some gray scum in the bottom. I turned off the water to the tank. Elsewhere, I looked for drips or water leaking but couldn’t find anything. There’s tons of trash, but everything is dry.

Every walkable surface is covered in something. Dirt. Droppings. Old clothes. Old mail. Miscellaneous crap. But no water.

I went downstairs and around to the empty apartment below mine where the superintendent was. I let him know that I didn’t find any water leaks, but he showed me where the water had been leaking. There’s definitely something there, but I told him it wasn’t me. Nonetheless, he wants to look. He’s quite obviously someone who has dealt with the shame of hoarders before because several times he reassured me that he can fix it as long as I can just clean the area where he needs to get in.

He’s giving me a couple days to deal with the hoard (in the bathroom) — so I went to the dollar store to get cleaning supplies.

I decided to clean the entry hallway and the bathroom which is right across. I estimated 10 bags of trash and a couple hours of time. As long as I throw everything out and don’t start picking through things.

The hall in front of the door was first. I replaced the broken bulb and picked up the debris. That was one bag of garbage. However, I chose to keep a couple pairs of the shoes that I felt I could use. One bag of stuff kept.

Inside, I just started picking up stuff and jamming it in to a bag. It’s gonna take a lot more than 10 bags. The piles are so dense. And the smell — while not overwhelming or nausea-inducing — was ever present. Something about mouse droppings, the odor hangs in the air and sticks to objects like cigarette smoke does. A good wash down with a good quality cleaner will help tremendously once the crap is removed.

I got rid of three large heavy bags so far. There’s much more to go. Among the stuff that I tossed? A lot of newspaper. Grocery bags. Old mail. Notes from college. A number of unused trash bags — I had attempted this cleanout before, clearly. So many groceries that were never put away. Apparently I had a thing for pickles and cheese toward the end of my stay and, rather than deal with them, abandoned them to the hoard. Jar after jar of pickles. WHY? I don’t know. Tons of canned goods too. Corn. Beans. Soups — lot of soups — all now in huge heavy black trash bags.

I’m not gonna lie, the bags are heavy! And the piles are densely packed. It’s a little like an archeological dig — how many years back are we now? Three? Five? Eight? The abandoned mail will tell the story. It’s scary. I gave up a couple years after I moved in, so there’s going to be a lot (and I do mean A LOT) of stuff as I begin to get to the farthest corners of the rooms. The bathroom and front hall have been cleaned out before — some of the only areas that were ever cleaned in the last several years — so this will be the light end of things.

By the third bag, I was exhausted. I’ll go back tomorrow to continue. My hands felt grimy (I’ll need to wear gloves) and my clothes reeked of musty mouse smell. I rescued a few things from the hoard. Three good chef’s knives (brand new in the package) and a brand new Fire TV stick, still in the wrapping. I have no idea why I bought it. But there it was just the same, mid-way down the first pile that I tackled. Why did I have so much stuff? Why couldn’t I throw anything out? Why did it actually PAIN me to clean when I do it so easily now?

Which brings me to a point I’d like to make. If you saw my current abode, you would never think that I actually lived like this for years. My current place is clean — not perfect, but CLEAN. I pick up my garbage, it doesn’t stay of the floor. And I’m every vigilant regarding clutter.

Why? How could this happen?

I used to live in a hoard. A shame inducing, disgusting hoard.

I remember when it started. I’d had a particularly bad day. I was broke. I was deeply depressed. I was eating something, I forget what, but when I was done, I threw the wrapper on the floor next to the bed. I just felt like giving up. There was something almost comforting in just throwing it on the floor instead of in the garbage.

Maybe it was a way of accentuating or reflecting how I felt inside — like thrown away garbage. Like something no one cared about anymore. Fuck the world, I won’t clean! Punishing myself for being such a loser. Lost my career, lost my friends, lost my figure, lost my entire life. What’s the point?

So, that day was the day I gave up. Oh, occasionally I would try to clean. But I assure you when you stop picking up garbage off the floor, it piles up fast. And soon, it’s a massive, overwhelming, and shameful problem. I never invited anyone in — and to be honest, it was a rare time when anyone voluntarily stopped by. Maybe once a year? And that’s when I’d try to tackle the mess. I lost.

When I moved into the new place, I brought virtually nothing with me. I bought new things (I had money to do that). I shut the door on the old place and said I’d deal with it later.

Been a couple years, but now I’m forced to finally deal with it. I’m going to get it cleaned out because I’ve learned some things. I’m not that person anymore — and I don’t want to be. My life isn’t perfect, but I’m okay. It’ll be okay.

I mentioned that the elegant apartment I’m in right now is kept very tidy. Is it perfect? NO. I have a tendency toward clutter, and this being a tiny apartment, I’m constantly battling to keep it clean. I generate a lot of garbage on a daily basis, and that garbage needs to be dealt with every day. So, I do. It’s not perfect, but I’m a whole lot better about throwing things out.

And part of what helps keep me on track is the fact that I’ve opened my apartment to visits from my friends. For some this may not seem like a big deal, but to me — as a person who lived alone in shameful conditions — it’s new and healthy. It also forces me to be as clean as I can — or as I like to say, to be as NORMAL as possible!

I’m also acutely aware of the clutter issue, so I try really hard not to overdo anything. For instance, a friend of mine was getting ready to have a big sale, and invited me to scour the place for anything I wanted or could use. Oh, man! I could have taken SO MUCH but I resisted. I even brought a few things back once I got them home and realized I didn’t have any place for them. Or that they would have contributed to my clutter problem.

I’m concerned that as I go through the hoard, I will find more and more things that are “worth” something, are usable, or have sentimental value of some sort. It’s going to happen. I know it will. And I’ll have to make some hard decisions. I will have to limit what I keep by some kind of criteria. I have settled in my heart that 95% of it must go straight to the trash cans. But it’s awfully tempting to think, “oh, somebody could use this!” but no. It’s honestly stressful to have to make these decisions repeatedly as I’m scooping up stuff a lot of which is covered in mouse poop.

For instance, I ran across a formerly favorite sweater and thought I should take it to the laundromat — but I ended up throwing it out. What if the smell doesn’t come out? And I’m going into summer — why do I need a sweater? Into the trash it went. But this won’t be the last decision like that.

Additionally, I’m finding NEW items, still in Amazon packaging. WTF? Why did I buy things then not use them? One package had white cotton gloves. WHY did I buy them? I don’t know. Into the trash they went.

I’ll be going back tomorrow to keep sweeping things out in the hopes to get that hallway and bathroom cleared out so the superintendent can do his job. I’m ashamed, but I know I’ve changed. I will survive this and move on. And once it’s done, I’ll never need to do that, or talk about it, or feel terrified that someone will find out my secret hoard situation ever again.

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“Out of life’s school of war—what doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger.” — Friedrich Nietzsche

Take this job….

I quit.

I had enough of that crappy ass job and submitted my resignation.

So… here’s the thing, dear reader. You know I’ve been dissatisfied for some time. I loved this job when I first got it. I felt like I fit in . I had purpose. I LOVED the people I worked with. Things started to sour this year, but I had no idea how much worse it would get.

In recent months, the situation got a whole lot worse. New management moved in with draconian rules and loads of disrespect. I was told, on almost a daily basis, that I was stupid and worthless and if I didn’t like it here, they weren’t going to fight for me, and I could leave because there’s the door.

No exaggeration. I don’t want to belabor the point, of course, but all it took was ONE person to upend our successful if sleepy little clinic.

Also understand, dear reader, that we WERE a success. We were just awarded a million dollar state grant. Our patients loved us. We were on the upswing. A small but hard working crew.

Then… a few months ago, administration hired a “middle manager” — someone between the big boss and my supervisor — to help with day-to-day management stuff. This woman (we will call her Lucifer) came on board with a giant chip on her shoulder and an absolute, unstoppable desire to sow chaos and destroy any office morale we might have once had.

Why did Lucifer do it? I honestly don’t know. Maybe she wanted to fire us or get us to quit to save money — it’s usually about money — but there’s no particular correlation here. Lucifer seemed to get off on hurting, insulting, and threatening the employees. She enjoyed finding something to punish you about. Maybe she had friends who she wanted to put in our positions. Maybe she’s just hateful and loves chaos. I’ve rarely experienced anyone so hateful.

Who knows? Some people just want to watch the world burn.

First thing she did was crush morale and drive off our office manager. Next, she decided to hard-line enforce all policies and actively looked for reasons to fire people. So, let’s say you got in an accident on the way to work, and as a result of this accident, you went to the hospital. During this time, you didn’t show up for work, nor were you able to call to let management know you would be out. Lucifer would mark it down as a no-call, no-show and you would get a written warning that if you did it again, you would be fired.

This is no exaggeration. See, most policies are up to your supervisor to enforce as they see fit. If you have a lenient supervisor (or someone with an ounce of common sense,) they will enforce things, not to the letter of the law, but to the spirit of it.

Third, Lucifer changed policies that she felt were too indulgent. For instance, our office was closed for an hour at lunchtime. This gave people the chance to take a long lunch if they needed, and gave others the chance to get caught up on charting and phone calls. Lucifer saw that as ridiculous. It’s a lost opportunity to make more money — so she changed all that. Half-hour lunches became STRICTLY enforced and scheduled by her, alternating times so the office was always manned. Patients could literally be scheduled at any time, up to 15 minutes before closing. Start and end times were also STRICTLY enforced and our comings and goings were observed and monitored. Even bathroom breaks were monitored.

These were just a handful of examples. Employees who had worked there for many, many years with not a single blemish on their records were suddenly being written up left and right for idiotic, minor infractions. One person, with 16 years with the company, found himself with a final warning. Wanna know why? He asked for a copy of his job description because it seemed he was being asked to do a lot of things outside his scope. Accused of refusing to do work, he was given a final written warning (he would have been fired if the union hadn’t stepped in.)

A few months ago, my office manager left. She told me later that her job was likewise being threatened over something frivolous.

Every person packed their offices in anticipation of finding another job or randomly being fired.

A few weeks later, another employee packed her shit and quit at lunchtime, leaving nothing but her badge and keys with a note on her desk that read “Fuck you, I quit.” This girl had been with the organization for 6 years and gave up her banked PTO just to get out from under Lucifer’s thumb.

And me? I quit at the end of the day just a few days later. I had already packed my desk, gathered up all my contacts, and deleted all my computer files. I said goodbye to my coworkers (who were always awesome), wrote a brief but professional resignation letter and left my keys on the boss’ desk (who had, ironically, left early for the day.) No notice.

The last straw for me was that I had asked for the morning off. I spoke to Lucifer directly regarding the morning’s PTO, who approved it verbally. I left the necessary form on her desk which she instantly “lost” — so when the morning came, I was accused of pulling one of her favorite “no call no shows” and had my job threatened.

Just a few days prior, she told me I was stupid, but it wasn’t my fault because I wasn’t trained right. And not to worry because now that she’s cracking the whip, at least I’m improving. Keep in mind, Lucifer is not a nurse. She has her degree from a fly-by-night online school.

FUCK. (all the way) OFF.

The no-call-no-show thing wasn’t even the final straw. There was one more.

One of our providers was sick with COVID. She made the provider come in saying she couldn’t afford to have thes person take any more time off. Because the place would lose money. So this provider saw patients all day while running a fever and coughing with COVID.

So… unsafe work environment coupled with daily harassment? They’re lucky I only quit an didn’t sue. I may still, honestly.

More have walked off the job since I left. Testament to Lucifer’s “skills” as a manager.

I finally found a new job that seems pretty sweet. Hard work, but it shows promise. I’m hoping it stays that way. And? It’s $20K more than that shitty other place was paying me.

I just finished my first week. Only time will tell if it’s gonna be awesome. But I’ll be getting paid a lot more, I get a computer, a phone, and travel expenses paid for. It’s worth a shot.

Success really is the best revenge. (Though if a house fell on Ms Lucifer and crushed her like the cockroach she is, I wouldn’t complain.)

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“Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” — 1 Peter 5:8

A few random news items

1. Thank you to everyone who emailed me to check on me. All things considered, I’m doing okay. I’ve settled in to the idea of leaving and going elsewhere, but ONLY when I can find something suitable. Not sure I want to dive headfirst into something much worse just to spite myself.
2. My boss is leaving! The Boss is taking a new job; next week is their last week. Best of luck to them.
3. I’ve lost 51 pounds so far since mid-January when I started. I really wish I could lose weight faster, but that’s just the way it is when you’re post-menopausal I guess. No, I didn’t have gastric bypass. I’m just doing the low-carb Atkins thing along with pure, unadulterated gumption and stick-to-it-ivenness to power through the rough spots (and there are a lot of rough spots).
4. I’ve started listening to the Arnold Pump Club Podcast. I’m about a year late to the game I guess, but it’s daily positive health news. Okay, not exactly daily even though that’s how it’s marketed. More like every few days podcast. But honestly — after having watched the Arnold Schwarzenegger documentary/biography on Netflix, I think I have a new hero. He’s not perfect by any means and has made many mistakes in life, but he IS undeniably driven and goal-focused — and successful at it. There’s a LOT to learn there, and I intend to allow him to motivate me. Highly recommend signing up for the daily email at least. It can be a bit of positivity in an otherwise gloomy day.
5. I joined Conqueror Virtual Challenges and obtained my first medal by walking my way a bit at a time to 20 miles. I always wondered why, when one is losing weight, there isn’t some sort of reward for certain milestones. Like when I hit -25 pounds. Or (in this case) when I hit -50 pounds. One should definitely get something to commemorate the experience. So, I signed up for this so I’d get a medal. How it works is, you pick your challenge, set your own pace, and at the end, they send you a very heavy, well designed, and very cool medal. Completely virtual (I guess they started during the pandemic.) My first one was Angkor Wat in honor of a friend of mine that I work with who is from Cambodia. (The medal is so cool.) My next challenge is Holland, commemorating my friend and former mentor, Mrs H.
6. The puppy is doing amazingly well. According to the vet, he’s sound as a pound — no problems with his knees, his heart, his teeth, etc. Couldn’t ask for a better deal on a dog, honestly. He’s about 6 months old now and as handsome as all get out. His adult coat is coming in and he’s gonna be gorgeous. Smart too — I’ve been getting him puzzle games to exercise his mind. He is pure joy.
7. The car is also (so far) running well. However, the air conditioning doesn’t work. I suspect it wasn’t working when I bought it, but since I got it in the winter, how would I know? For now, I’m just riding around with the windows open because I can’t afford to fix it.
8. Last but not in any way the least… one of my favorite websites has closed down. Rest In Peace, DListed. I have read that site on an almost daily basis for the past 18 years. Most of my pop culture knowledge (and a large part of my healthy snark) is as a result of Michael K’s clever pen. I — and many others in the know — are incredibly saddened by the passing of this cultural landmark. Even if it wasn’t exactly Pulitzer Prize-winning material, it was VERY IMPORTANT to me. No more Hot Slut of the Day (or month, or year!) No more Phoebe Price news. No more Hot Ginge. No more Stains the Dog! No more stories about Michael’s abuela and her flying chancletas! And it wasn’t just the snark that I tuned in for, but the writing. The Writing! Michael K was a gifted master at the turn-of-phrase, always finding exactly the right words to fit the celebrity crime. Whether fashion or GOOP or just simple-minded celebrity nutballness. Michael K, if you’re out there, I wish you all the best in whatever you do next (and I sincerely hope it’s great!) Thank you for so many years of laughing out loud at my desk, embarrassing myself as I spit out my coffee, and for all the times I had to call my friends and read the article over the phone because what you wrote was so incredibly perfect. Especially for the times when my life was crap — I could read what you wrote about some far-distant, cluelessly wealthy celebrity acting like a doofus so I could have a chuckle on the bus while riding to work in the pouring rain. THANK YOU.

Righteous Pessimism

Sorry for the lack of articles. I’m extremely depressed and tired. My job has gotten as bad as the last one — worse in some respects. I keep telling myself that the common denominator in all these jobs is (frankly) me, so I need to examine my own demotivators and try to find some joy amidst the chaos so that it’s tolerable. But I’m failing. I’m failing at this job every day that I’m here. Tumbling mercilessly down a rocky cliff of failure and feeling every bump.

I’ve begun compiling a list of tasks that are mine to do each and every day. So far, I’m up to 60. Some are small and simple. Most tasks on the list are large and complicated — so complicated I feel amiss listing them as a single item. Why am I doing this? I want to gather evidence as to why I’m failing. It can’t simply be that I’m a pessimistic asshole. Can it?

Some of it must be circumstantial. So I’m seeking evidence.

Not only am I listing tasks, but I’m reviewing the job month by month to see how much my job has changed from when I first got here last year. I know I couldn’t have been expecting this.

When I first started, it was a sleepy little clinic, mostly ignored by administration. We had a reasonable number of patients for whom I was the only nurse. (I am still the only nurse.) I could do the work and have time leftover to review patient charts and ensure everything was being taken care of. I liked it. I was well liked and found that actually enjoyed coming to work. I felt as if I’d finally found a use for my skills and a place where I belonged. My opinion mattered and had value.

Not anymore.

Since this time last year, there has been a 400% increase in overall patient load. A 300% increase in the number of new patients — and most of them are quite complicated.

We started with three part-time providers who were never (or rarely ever) present at the same time. We now have five — one is full-time so now there are always multiple providers present simultaneously.

And I remain the only nurse to manage all these tasks for all these patients. It’s unfair to ask me to continue alone under these conditions.

I’ve used this singular reason (I am the only nurse) to explain my multiple recent failings and inability to meet deadlines whenever I get called into the boss’ office (which is a few times a week on average) but they’re getting tired of hearing that old chestnut. They want me to adapt and smile more — have a more optimistic outlook — and have hope because they claim they’re trying to hire additional personnel to help me. But many months have gone by and that’s not happening. They’ve had only one applicant in the two months that the job has been listed. One.

I’ve begun looking at outside jobs in earnest, mostly because I worry what will happen to my mental health if I continue failing at this pace. But I have to tell you that the effect of all this failure is, I look at these job listings and sigh, thinking I’ll never be able to handle that. Or, That job looks too hard. Or, They’ll never hire me because I suck at this.

The damage that’s done as a result of having a job where you are set up to fail is devastating. Maybe some people can maintain a positive self-image in spite of it all, but I can’t. All I want to do is go home and go to sleep. I don’t want to exist anymore. I have no hope. I have no desires outside of sleep.

To add desolation to devastation, my friends basically hate me now. They go out of their way to avoid me. All I can do is complain about my job, while they themselves are struggling to get by with even less than I make — they don’t wanna hear it. So I can’t blame them.

Additionally, I can’t meet my financial obligations anymore because the cost of everything has skyrocketed. My student loans alone have put me half-month behind on rent. And the landlord is seriously pissed. Since the COVID restrictions ended, landlords everywhere have lost their chill. I can’t blame them.

Then there’s the cost of the car and insurance — which I knew were going to devastate my personal economy and I never understood how badly. While I’m doing uber eats and door dash on the side to help make ends meet, it’s not enough. MANY people have signed up to do it as well, which means there’s fewer runs and they don’t pay as well. I was available all weekend and made about $40 total.

I’m going to offer my landlord my last $100 that I have until the end of next week and hope it’s enough to keep him satisfied for the moment. The fact is, I’m not sure when I’ll be back on my feet again. This has been going on for months.

Financially, my only option within nursing is to take a suck-ass nursing job at the hospital where I’ll be juggling 8 critical patients and busting my ass for 16 hours a day, hoping and praying that I don’t kill anyone in the process. This should pay well enough for me to get out of the hole I’ve dug myself into and often comes with a healthy bonus (if you last long enough to get it, that is.) So — I’ll have enough money, but no free time and I’ll still get yelled at for every stupid little thing.

Basically, it exacerbates one problem, but solves the other. And creates new ones as my dog will have to be home alone for 16 hours a day with no one to care about him. Yeah. Great plan.

I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what I’ll do because no option is a good one. So for now, I try to stick it out at my current job and hope that by cancelling all my subscription services, cutting my internet bill, and eating very little food, it might be enough for me to skate by.

It probably won’t.

Oh my lord maybe my boss is right. I am a pessimistic jerk.

Or maybe I’m the only one appreciating things for how bad they truly are.

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“Seeing the glass as half empty is more positive than seeing it as half full. Through such a lens the only choice is to pour more. That is righteous pessimism.”― Criss Jami

Welcome to Nurses’ Week

Sorry it’s been a quick bit since my last post. That was unintentional.

I’ve been remarkably busy at work these last few weeks. You know, as it turns out, burnout is a real thing. They’ve pushed me all the way around the Matterhorn past caring too much to the point of not caring at all. And since I’m naturally a pretty caring person — someone who has, since birth, wanted to excel at every single bloody thing I do — that’s an impressive feat.

With exactly 26 major deadlines in my inbox that I should be attending to, I’m taking a good hour out of my day to write for myself instead. Why? Because I don’t care. See, if I do a crappy job, I’ll get hassled. But if I do a great job, I’ll get hassled and I’ll get more to do. Actually, whether I do a good job or a poor one, I’ll still get more to do, so honestly, it doesn’t matter one way or the other.

This is a far cry from what I thought this job would be — let alone nursing itself. What a complete waste of time these last ten years have been. The hope of a better life sure was shattered, wasn’t it?

A few weeks ago, my company decided to switch things up on the spur of the moment. My company is like an umbrella organization with all these little companies underneath it. Hospitals, outpatient facilities, labs, etc. Well, for whatever reason they moved me and my job from This Company to That Company. And, while under any normal umbrella organization that might mean minimal changes for me, it does not in this instance.

By moving me to That Company, I lost my time in grade, my PTO, my 401K, and my Direct Deposit. I no longer have the same pay date. I no longer have the same vacation days. It really is as if I got fired — but “lucky me” kept my job — yet ended up working for a company I didn’t ask to work for.

Now you would think That Company would have planned this ahead of time and thought it through. It’s a HUGE umbrella organization so you’d THINK this would have been well considered. After all, I wasn’t the only person this happened to — everyone at my office had the same thing happen. But I assure you, it was NOT planned or thought through well or at all. Nobody knew what was going on. Then or now.

It just, one day, happened. I was told only after it had occurred.

I fought to ensure I was getting paid. I called HR each and every day. And each day I spoke to someone else who didn’t know what was going on either. In the end, I was paid. It was late, but it was there. Problem was, this little “minor change” threw off all my automatic payments, like my rent, my car loan, and my student loans. They all tried to go through and failed, and my bank generously took their $35 fee for each bum transaction.

Do you think my company cared? No. I was told to be happy because I still have a job. As a matter of fact, when I called HR to complain about this massive boondoggle, I was chastised for not planning my automatic payments better. That I should have a safety net for such occasions. That I should manage my finances better.

Yes, they really said that.

(Even though NONE OF THIS was my choice.)

It’s one of many irritants these days. Every company wants you to provide adequate notice if you plan on departing, but they can change the very ground you stand on with no notice at all.

For instance, if I choose to separate and leave this godforsaken land, under This Company, I would have had to give a standard 2-week notice in order to be rehirable and get all my banked PTO. Under my new title at That Company, they expect a minimum 3-week notice to be rehirable but will get NONE of my banked PTO either way. So what if I don’t wish to be rehired? Can I just go?

Before you ask, yes I am looking for another job. And yes, when and if I find something suitable, I plan to offer a 2-week notice which is what I originally signed on for. Especially since my PTO is no longer a deciding factor and so my coworkers don’t have to suffer a sudden departure as a result of admin’s unnecessary nincompoopery.

My body clearly knows that I’m not having a good time. Because yesterday, after months without an episode, my heart went into afib again — so bad I had to take the day off. I had to shut down and let my body heal because it’s clearly rejecting everything. Five hours of hell, then rest.

I came in to work today to discover a Happy Nurses Week poster and some goodies from my coworkers. I’m grateful for the recognition — especially since I hold nothing against those I work with. The staff at my job is wonderful. The upper management, however, has a lot to learn. Not that they care, honestly, because they don’t. They really don’t.

Our parent company (the umbrella of which I speak) advertises they’re all about patient care. “We care about your care.” But in reality, they — like every other health care organization — cares about your money, not your health. While organizations get compensation for providers office visits and hospital stays, nurses don’t bill for their services. They fall under overhead. The same pool of money that pays for supplies and cleaning staff. That’s why, for nurses’ week, I got a branded lunch bowl from my umbrella organization instead of a bonus check. Yes, a bowl.

Still better than the last place I worked which gave me a non-working pen stamped with a local bank brand instead of the hospital’s name. Happy Nurses’ Week. Another place handed me a “hero” sticker.

You can’t make this stuff up.

See, the thing is, I never got into nursing to get rich. I wanted to help people — and I figured it was a rock solid career move wherein I’d always have a job that pays decently if not well.

I started life off as an artist. Back when artists could make a living at commercial art because we had a talent that no one else had. Then computers became ubiquitous and teenagers had a lot of time on their hands, so being a commercial artist was no longer lucrative. Everyone did it. For fun. They could do a crappy job and still get paid.

So with that no longer viable, I went into nursing. Thought this would be safe, but it’s not.

Now they’re saying that computers — AI — are going to take over the nursing industry as well. Why? Because we humans are too expensive. And a robot won’t ask for a raise or go on strike when they’re asked to work seven 12’s in a row. And they won’t require any Branded Bowls for Nurses Week because Nurses Week will be no more. Admin everywhere will rejoice.

Twenty years from now, you’ll see hospitals filled with AI Robots while the administration will claim that they’re providing “superior patient care.”

Now what?

Maybe I can go back to singing. AI hasn’t taken that over… yet. (Probably because there’s no money in it.)

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“The higher the minimum wage goes, the lower the threshold will go for robots to replace humans in many minimum-wage roles.” — Tom Purcell

Breakthrough

I finally broke through the negative 30 blockade to wind up at -32.8 pounds. A wee moment of celebration until I go back to feeling shitty for not being at my -150 pound goal yet.

I’ve been adjusting my goal weight. I originally wanted to get back to my high school weight which would put me at -200 pounds. However, having seen a few “thin” people my age looking decidedly wrinkly, I’m opted to aim for my weight circa 2005 which was -150 pounds. If I got there, I wouldn’t be thin, I’d be merely “overweight” and — honestly — I think I’d be okay with that. A little fat to round out the deep wrinkles, but thin enough to wear an XL in most sizes. It would be a satisfactory compromise.

But dudes, I’m still a L-O-N-G way from -150. While 30 pounds is nothing to sneeze at, it’s still early in the game. A lot can happen. I still have to hit a lot of mini-goals inbetween before the Big Kahuna comes along.

And let’s fact it, the possibility exists it won’t even happen. It is a rare thing indeed for someone to lose 150 pounds by diet alone.

So what’s different this time around that leads to such frustration? Well, 30 pounds, when you weight as much as I do, doesn’t look like much. My face is still fat. I still have a double chin. My clothes, while smaller, still fit the same. No one is looking at me and asking if I lost any weight. I look pretty much as I did 30 pounds ago. I can see some minor changes, but yeah. I’m still pretty damn big.

And I’m still tired. Before, when I lost 80 pounds in the early 2000s, losing 30 pounds gave me a lot more energy to get out and do things. Exercising became a natural course of events — I wanted to, therefore, I did. I walked with ease. I went to the gym occasionally. I could move in ways that were impossible prior to that. I could cross my legs!

But now that I have basically twice that to lose, 30 pounds is comparatively bubkus.

Therefore, it gets frustrating when I look at the calendar and wonder why I’m not feeling like an exquisitely lean gazelle yet.

I remind myself that it’s all worth it, of course. I’m not going to give up that easily.

But sitting where I am today, seeing the scale ease down slowly, I can honestly see why so many DO give up. After a while, it feels like a lot of effort for very little reward.

I know that logically, if I keep up my efforts, in time it will show and people will say that I look like I’ve lost weight. But, yes, it’s frustrating not seeing it now.

So I press on. On and on. Eat right, get a little exercise, weigh in every few days, hope for the best.

And on.

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“Perseverance is not a long race; it is many short races one after the other.” – Walter Elliot