Dum Dee Da Dee Da!
Come pick my roses!
Okay, enough of that. Anyhow, where on EARTH to begin. Firstly, I shall leave you with this--this blog is to remain PRIVATE at ALL costs. No one is to run their mouths about what I say. Unfortunately, I vent best through writing, and I must rant about this.
Work. Is. Insane.
There, I said it. Basically, long story, making it short, the Big Cheeses from my place of employment are going to lay off or fire a whole slew of workers after today. Who is going? There is no way to know for certain. I wouldn't be shocked if I were to be let go.
Yesterday the caregivers got reamed for not working well enough, hard enough, or fast enough. I am infuriated by this, because, while I concur that there are some pretty lazy people working at this institution, I bust my ass for that place. My back hurts, my knees hurt, and I am sick to my stomach by the time I am off at 3pm... after what seems a lifetime spent within those walls. I calculated calories burned through the job, and it came to an obscene 1,040. This wasn't even factoring in all of the lifting, transferring and boosting I do. I usually, also, am on the second or third assignments, meaning that my hypoglycemic butt doesn't get a lunch break until 1:30... after no food since 5:45am. By that point, I am so low on my blood sugar I am shaking, dizzy, and almost incoherent. I am afraid that one of these days I will faint at work... most embarrassing. *shudders*
Worse, though, was the fact that my supervisor looked straight at me and told me that I wasn't picking the job up quickly enough. I was so offended and shocked by her statement that I could literally only stare at her, not even speak to defend myself or ask how I could improve. What I really wanted to ask was, "Okay, so I need to get to know the routines, likes/dislikes, personal needs and health histories of 100 residents in one month then?"
It doesn't help that my work style is HIGHLY methodical. I work slowly, but thoroughly. When I am done getting my residents ready for breakfast, they look impeccable. They have been taken to the bathroom, changed, with matching clothes, teeth brushed, hair combed, deodorant applied, you name it. The whole gamut. I do this for all of my residents. Why? Because--oh, God forbid--I give a damn about them. I do this for them, not to make the bosses happy (or unhappy in this case) or for my pay check. On top of this, I have their beds made, trash removed, and rooms straightened up. ALL of this, for between eight and fifteen residents, in two hours. Oh, but I'm still not picking up on it quickly enough. WHAT THE FUCK?
It figures the only person who thinks I am a terrible hack at my job is my supervisor, while everyone else seems to think I'm performing just fine.
Just to put a little icing on our proverbial cake, there is a coworker (we will call him Dick Jerkem) who is under investigation for harrassment, of the sexual, verbal and physical kind. He was certainly not the kindest to me when I first started working. He would pick at me for the most ridiculous things, from being new to what I ate for lunch. Apparently, another of my coworkers (we will call her Miss Daisy) received such harrassment from Dick Jerkem that she reported him. I got a call from the director of the establishment, asking me if I had witnessed the altercation that had caused Miss Daisy to report this guy. (I had.) I also told her about things that Dick Jerkem had said to me, just in case they were relevant. (They were.)
Yesterday, before getting reamed for doing a slow and shitty job, Ms. Big Supervisor called me into her office to query after the truth of Dick Jerkem's claims that I am trying to instigate shit from him. I guess he told her that I continually have approached him, trying to start a row through being falsely friendly and making him uncomfortable. Oh, please.
I informed her that yes, I had said my usual "hi, how are you" greeting to him that I do everyone, but he didn't respond with anything other than a nasty look, so I just put my hands up, said, "Okay," and went about my day. I didn't know he was aware of the fact that I had talked to Ms. Big Supervisor at that point. That, obviously, clued me in, and so I left him alone from that moment on.
So basically he is trying to get me fired instead. I think. Am I overreacting?
I am so absurdly stressed by a job that barely covers bills and living expenses. If it was a lucrative position, it wouldn't be so terrible. Unfortunately, I get paid shit to get treated like this and watch other good employees get screwed alongside me.
And I need to keep it. Because I have little choice otherwise.
*sighs* Just keep swimming...