Wahey, I was feeling pretty damn motivated this morning! Yes indeed, we have now made the dreaded move to the new building, so I am determined to make the best of it! Who knows, maybe I will make friends with Eyes and have opportunities undreamed of for cheery and helpful! First, I am going to check out these brand new MFD printers, then maybe print out a bit of artwork just to decorate my room, like. Then, onward with the clinic typing and despite the move, I can have everything bang up to date for clinic day tomorrow, and maybe even get in a wee bit of helping my team out! It may not be the world’s best job, but by god I can rock it!
So I practically skipped all the way in through the fallen branches in the park, with the home-made muffins for my colleagues and the home-grown chillies for my martial arts instructor, and my new gumshield and all. And went to the correct hospital. My, this hospital is pretty big, it takes forever to get to my office! I may have to leave a good ten minutes earlier in the morning.
En route to my Printer Mission, I went to drop some files off with my Colleague of Skull Scarves and lend her my patented ‘sticking cables up the back of desks’ skewer – and ran straight into the Boss. Which I did not expect, but I managed not to scream the place down and everything.
Come with me! said the Boss, I will show you the printer!
SIX HOURS LATER, I still had not got a test-sheet printed. I hadn’t even attempted to get a test-sheet printed. I hadn’t even got one other useful thing done! I had, instead, been trailed hither and thither to no discernable purpose, culminating in a ‘ten minute’ whole-team, hour-long pep-talk and motivational meeting about this move; during which, I see from my notes: we were told that we suck at our jobs, we are not proactive, we don’t come up with solutions, we are making negative comments, we are banned from making negative comments regarding the move (I don’t know about you, but I always find being banned from making negative comments makes me feel SO much more positive), that we need to change our ideas in order to provide a decent level of service, that we are bloody lucky to be employed (which I will grudge is true enough);
… and that everyone hates us – and by ‘everyone’, the Boss does not just mean, ‘people at our hospital’ or, ‘people at the rival hospital’, she means, ‘people at hospitals I have never even set foot on the premises of nor ever emailed – people in every hospital in this fair city, to whit.’ And nobody wants to be on our team, so did she mention that we must totally suck? Everyone thinks so!
Wow. I have never had a motivational talk that has made me quite so keen to hang myself with the cord from my ID badge.
When the dust had settled and stunned silence prevailed, my Colleagues of Skull Scarves and Cakes stood up, stone-faced, frog-marched me from the building to a car and we drove like the wind and went for a Panini, where we sat in a row like the Three Depressed Monkeys. Being at the far end, I sat with my head in my hands, trying not to sob. I don’t get it! Yesterday, my life was filled with joy! This morning, my life was filled with joy! Now, I want to go home and stick me head in the oven!
My boss is truly the worst motivational speaker ever.
And what does she mean, everyone hates us? She name-checked records, who tell us to our faces that we are very helpful compared to everyone else, (and also keep asking when more muffins are coming in) and cancer tracking. Who think I am the Messiah come again – I have emails. But apparently I am not the Messiah, I am a very naughty girl.
I’ll take a -10 penalty to morale and a -3 to appetite, please Bob.
I went to fightclub anyway. Well, it was that or actually hang myself when I got home, and while it slightly cheers my heart to imagine my flatmate’s face when she walks in on Saturday to find a half-week old corpse in the sitting-room, it would not be nearly as satisfying as chucking myself off the roof of this brand new private building, to great show and panache and my boss being in trouble Forever for being such a lousy motivational speaker that someone actually topped themselves within the hour. Alas, we do not get roof access – they saw that one coming.
Instead, I will concentrate on the multiple ironies of this situation: Firstly, I got basically accused of being a lazy malcontent with a bad attitude by a woman who had just eaten my muffin. This is not a euphemism.
Secondly, despite listing all our shortcomings for over an hour, our main crime is described as ‘being negative’. Ha, don’t you just love it when someone tells you a long list of your flaws and has the cheek to stick ‘you’re negative’ in there. There seem to be rather a lot of people in my life at the moment who do that, actually. Maybe that should change.
(And yeah, maybe I am, but with all these cheery people jumping on my back and telling me I’m crap, HOW COULD I POSSIBLY NOT BE?)
When I got to fightclub, a big lanky Aussie guy gave me a free meatball wrap and asked for nothing but a smile in exchange. This is also not a euphemism. We partnered up and he made kind compliments about my triceps and asked if they were implants. Hee. Technically, one of em is, but it’s the Three Years’ Bullet-proofing one (bit like Ronseal For Folk, really).
In return, I had to put him over my shoulders and do squat reps, and later kicked him in the elbow by mistake and had a bruise the size of a Cadbury’s crème egg to show for it. He cheered me up moderately, and it was a well-tough class, I shoulda been right in the zone, but the adrenalin simply wasn’t flowing tonight. As well as the Warm-up From Hell, I thought we were gonna slot out and was mightily relieved at the prospect – when suddenly we had the Warm-down From Hell also. Twenty caterpillar press-ups followed by twenty half-clap press-ups when we’ve just done a whole buncha shadow-boxing and squats and sprints? And it did not even end there! I should cocoa! I lay on the floor at the back and did not even move when the Cagefighter came to check I was still alive by standing on my fingers. (This is not as psychotic as it sounds, he was very careful).
So I was mightily looking forward to the end of the four mile walk home. I was also having major carvings for tonic water and mango juice, not at the same time, but still. Weird. I bought a huge batch of both, as luck would have it, and was just mentally celebrating having reached the halfway point on the walk, when my Colleague I Suspect Is Up To Something leapt out at me from behind a bus-stop and tried to tell me all about her conversation with a ninety-year-old woman about the joy of sex. I Am Not Making This Up. Golly, yes, you like sex and she used to like sex, what are the odds, whoda thunk it, really, yes, now please GO AWAY.
It was not quite the very last thing I needed, but it was close. I would marginally have preferred to be faced with Hannibal Lecteur jumping out at me dressed as Lady Gaga. I would even have preferred having Hannibal Lecteur jump out at me dressed in Lady Gaga. I made my excuses, fled, locked the door, drank that entire carton of mango juice, had a very hot shower, realised I was too demoralised to eat, and went straight to bed.
In conclusion: God, I love Not being around people!