Tuesday, July 10, 2007

The End Is Nigh

Killer heads for the door.

I have a serious case of short-timer syndrome. This is a critical condition that is common among people who only have a few days left at a job. It is characterised by a severe lackadaisical attitude and frequent mutterings of, "I'll quit this shit-hole right now!" or "I'll burn this place to the ground."

It is not an uncommon disease, but I, being a person who can change hospitals several times a year, have it more often than others. Since I am usually very upbeat and humor laden, it disturbs my soon-to-be-ex coworkers very much.

I already want to be gone so bad my mind starts to play tricks on me. Tonight a lovely Filipina nurse approached me and innocently asked, "Would like to try one of my Filipino crackers?" My brain heard, "Shove these up your ass, Cracker!"

I immediately became enraged and picked up the small lady and flung her across the room, knocking over a gaggle of Hmong people who were there to visit their Grandfather. I did not really do that, but man, I wanted to.

I realized a Filipina would not know that she could refer to me as "cracker" and calmed down. I calmly accepted the Filipino cracker; it was delicious.

This condition is usually worse in the first few hours of my shift. I am freshly removed from my comfortable chair at home, where I was enjoying the back log of "Dirty Jobs" on my Tivo, so I really did not want to come to work. The fact that I only have three shifts left heightens any feelings of unhappiness and despair.

I arrive at work and they immediately tell me that I am going to have to work on a Medical floor tonight. I am an ICU nurse. I prefer my patients comatose and near death. It makes for a pleasant work environment when I can put on the Cartoon Network as I scramble around to keep someone alive. On a Medical floor a lot of the patients should be at home, and they don't want to be there any more than I do. Both patient and nurse have a palpable level of animosity towards each other; both feel it is the other's fault they are still there.

I enter the room. The patient, a very healthy appearing 68 year old man, is laying in bed watching an infomercial for the Ionic Breeze. I look at him. He looks at me. We both quickly surmise that the other does not want to be here. I check his vitals as he quietly stares at the television. "You know there is a "Futurama" marathon on the Cartoon Network." I inform him; to which her blandly responds, "I hate cartoons. Can you get me some fresh water?" I pick up his jug and walk out of the room muttering to myself, "I should just quit this place right now." I am pretty sure I heard him mutter to himself, "I should just leave this place right now."

It is ironic that we should be enemies. We actually have a lot in common. Neither of us wants to be here, and could leave if we really wanted to. I should just go back in there and tell him, "Get dressed were blowing this joint." I could give him a ride home.

If someone does not let me watch the Cartoon Network soon, I am going to quit this shit-hole.


MOM said...

I vote for giving the poor shmuck a ride home! Kade's been talking about you non-stop; he can't wait to see you! (me too!) MOM

hellohahanarf said...

can't believe you would take that abuse and not quit. don't you have any balls at all?

Roadchick said...

The 'chick feels that way quite frequently and then realizes that she's at home.

Mayren said...

I wish you much Cartoon Network love! They are complete barbarians to not allow a man his simple pleasures. Damn the filipino crackers! on the other hand *YAY* for Tivo.

josiecat said...

i say blow the place that way you can hang out before you leave :)

(and may be i wont end up on the fre&*&ing 4th floor)

josiecat said...

OMG i re-read this post, were you up on the floors again?!?

briliantdonkey said...

Ahhhh shortimers disease. I deal with it all the time yet I rarely get to enjoy it myself. Maybe you should have told the patient the lady called HIM a cracker and then watched cartoon network while they fought it out.


Wavemancali said...

Whenever I hear a reference to "short timers" I think of one of the best Vietnam flicks ever 84C MoPic.

Soldiers about to finish their tour of duty are considered "short" and this particular movie has a ton of short jokes, my favorite being, "I'm so short I could parachute off a dime."

The film is only available in VHS, but if you didn't catch it I highly recommend it(If anyone still has a VCR these days)

I think you should develop your own "short" joke for use in the hospital or steal the one I mentioned.

wreckless said...

I am stuck in a hole as well. I am tempted to video the nonsense and inanity that I must deal with. Along with my commentary this documentary would make Michael Moore look like a boy scout and would leave me more hated than S. Rushdie. I could get evil. I so relate to your feeling!

Churlita said...

I used to get that when I was younger and moved all the time. The only good part was hearing co-workers bitch about an upcoming event and thinking in my head, "Ha. I won't be here any more."

Killer said...

I am eagerly awaiting the moment I can see you guys. I will drop off the schmuck before I get home.

I consider myself of great self control, and every night is worth almost $500, so I power through.

That would be awful...I can always quit work, but I guess it would be more detrimental to quit home.

I agree, why would some asshat insist on watching an infomercial when Adult Swim is on.

You never know, I might just call in sick tonight. I have a sudden case of short-time flu.

No, I wrote this post last night while sitting right next to you.

It would suck to have to see everyone around you get short time syndrome and you have to remain the responsible one. When I was a waiter I saw a lot of short time people.

The short joke I most often use is in reference to the common Southern comment, "Boy, you is a biggun! I bet you was the star of yo' football team." To which I would usually reply, "You're really short. I bet you were the captain of the miniature golf team."
It seemed funnier when I was younger.

You have piqued my curiosity. Please make the film. You see how everything worked out for Mr. Rushdie.

Yeah, the co-workers complaining is good to hear, when you get to leave. They will say, "We should do something about this." I will say, "I don't give a rat's ass, cause I'm quitin' this shit-hole."

Woman with kids said...

Sadly, I've had short-timer-itis for the past... seven years. Certain coworkers breathe and I am SO FREAKING ANGRY.

Oh, er, sorry. As you were.

Killer said...

At my job, I get really angry when they won't breathe. I am often yelling, "Why won't you breath? Don't you want to live? Do you know how much paper work there is if you die?"