Sometimes, I admit, my job sucks. You know, when pts dribble diarrhea across thirty feet of floor or when you get your hair pulled, your shirt ripped, your arms cut open from nasty fingernails—yeah, sometimes work is not my absolute FAVORITE place to be, but I’ve found a job description that I would absolutely Hate.
HR staff trainer.
Had my annual How To Not Get Sued At Work class—7 hours of mock code greens and JCAHO rules and core values and how to tie a person down with leather restraints while offering compassionate care, dignity, and respect. And yeah, I would hate to be a trainer.
Firstly, because staff has sucky attitudes, and while the attitudes aren’t so justifiable, the complaints actually are. For examp, the crisis prevention techniques, while possibly effective with healthy adults are totally unrealistic for geriatric care. You do your IMMOBILIZE move on a 96 yr old and, yeah, she’d be on the floor with a broken hip.
Not cool, my peeps. Not cool.
Well at least, the trainer said, you would be following procedure and not making the hospital liable.
Yeah, that can’t be right.
Anyway, you see my point. How awful to spend your days with cranky staff, upholding rules and procedures, ignoring their weaknesses, and trying to whip up some enthusiasm for the core values of integrity, empowerment, excellence and diversity…
I felt badly. And YES, I tried hard not to be snarky. But, of c, I didn’t buy her flowers either.
M catered a lunch for one of the programs my Dad works with, and they stopped by with a Panera baggy for me. Happened to be while the class was watching a video on customer service. ‘Scuze me, pardon me, and Dad came down, grinning, with my lunch bag.
You are so spoiled, Alicia said, shaking her head.
“Oh, you the doctor’s daughter?” Keith said. “Yeah, I hear about you on the units, but I couldn’t put your face to it.”
Um… Heh? Is nepotism ever… I dunno… cute? All I really know is that my dad is cute and they love him at work and he can pretty much get away with anything. Good enough for me.
