Office Space

I was having an e-mail discussion with a good friend the other day about "getting out of hospital nursing." This post is my revised reply, because I think it proves something about something. You get a bonus for figuring out what, exactly.

"I've always thought about ways of getting out of the hospital, especially those that don't involve me jumping out off the heli-pad landing zone as per Wim Wender's Wings of Desire suicide scene.

Seriously, the office job thing would be intriguing. I'm not sure, however, I'd fit into
office culture, especially after being a floor nurse, where you get to curse a lot, be a tetchy bitch in front of your superiors and get away with it, and generally act like a fucked-up crazy human being because everyone else--including your clientele--is so busy being crazy they don't have time to notice or care how crazy you are.

If I were to become Office Jamie, on the other hand, I'd totally be known around my place of business as "Crazy Jamie" and not in the affectionate way nurses think of "crazy," because nurses have a lot of tolerance for crazy. In fact, if there were a titer for crazy, we'd all be positive for it. Way, way, way friggin' positive.

As Office Jamie, however, I'd quickly gain a reputation for sitting in my cubicle browsing craigslist "rants and raves" and buying random things off ebay and then having them shipped to me under the company's FedEx account when I should be staring into space introspectively thinking of ways to creatively gouge the Little Man, and crafting memos detailing Corporate X's Plan For Universal Domination.

I'd continue my hallowed tradition of missing as many staff meetings as possible (I believe the last one I got out of at my old hospital involved me saying, "Oh geez, I'm sorry, I think I'm the only nurse on the floor now for eighteen patients, and I'm cleaning poo off of a patient so I can send him home properly. But I can stop and sit in your meeting if you'd like the patient to continue lying in his own filth?")

The staff meetings I did attend would be spent doodling on pieces of paper, sniffing in the air suggestively, and laughing at inappropriate moments, such as when they fire me. I'd go around at coffee break time making rude comments about illicit office romance in front of visiting spouses. I might even start a rumor about myself that I was having an illicit office romance, just to mix things up a bit.

The thing is, I'm pretty used to running around swearing under my breath, scrapping with my superiors and generally being a bloody pain in the arse, and I don't think that is what Grey Cubicle World looks for in a drone, particularly. I know hospitals don't care for it particularly, but they're so desperate for a fall guy (popularily known around the world as "nurses") for their pitiful medical "care" that they overlook these undesirable traits in an indentured servant.

On the other hand, in an office setting, I'm pretty sure no one would fling their poop at me or threaten me with bodily harm and if they did, I could sue them for OSHA regulation violations and in the latter case, have them arrested for assault or battery or whatever. I could leave my house in the morning looking great and smelling pretty, and come home the same way, without MRSA breeding in my hair and C-diff clinging to my watch. I wouldn't need a HazMat suit to meet my clients.

I'm just not sure I could ultimately hack an office job, though, poop-less environment or not. I think hospital nursing has warped me beyond repair, and therefore stunted my personal and professional growth.

But, after several more years of nursing, I'd probably be willing to join the carnival or
hawk my Westie for crack money (wasn't there an actor that did that?) just to get out of hospital nursing.

Which makes one wonder why the hell I'm going back, doesn't it?"