Sunday, February 15, 2009
Well, Hell. I Tried.
So last week in a fit of some sort, I actually applied for a job at the local hospital. Yes. I did. Online.
It was for the "family unit" which is where they put the new mommies and babies and the years of experience required were ZERO.
I figured that even I could feel uteri and help with breastfeeding and check stitches (and why is it that doctors can't deliver a baby out of a vagina without doing an episiotomy and yet midwives can?) and oh, I don't know. I could do whatever they could train a monkey to do. Right?
So I filled out the online application and I admit my "work experience" was pretty lame and thin. I did work at a birth center years ago and I assisted the midwives during births and did postpartum care and did the three day postpartum check and I listed all of that stuff but I didn't list the part where I also cleaned out the hot tub, scrubbed the toilet, took out the trash, and did all the laundry afterwards.
Maybe I should have.
Because here's the answer I got back:
Thank you for applying to the position of RN/Family Care Unit FT 7a - 7p. This email is to notify you that another candidate will be chosen for the position. If you have an interview scheduled for this position please attend that interview as there may be multiple positions within the department that are still open.
Haha! As if I'd been scheduled for an interview. No way.
And I love that part where they say "another candidate will be chosen for this position."
Like, "Uh, we don't have anyone yet but we're certainly not going to choose you. Some poor schmuck will definitely walk in off the street who will be more qualified than you appear to be. But hey, thanks for trying."
And thank God because I don't think I could work for twelve hours in a row if my life depended on it.
Mr. Moon was beside himself with joy when I told him I'd applied for a job (although he tried mightily to restrain himself and hide that joy but hell, I've known the man for twenty-six years and I could tell) and he was sorely disappointed when I told him they'd rejected me without even an interview. I mean, the way they talk about the shortage of nurses, it sounds as if any old crone with a nursing license can make sixty thousand a year WITH benefits.
I guess not, though.
Oh well. Life goes on.
And probably more safely without me being responsible for any of it.
So instead of asking questions like, "Have you moved your bowels today?" and "Are you experiencing nipple pain?" and "And how's your bleeding today?" I'll be asking questions like, "Can I get you another beer?" and "Would you like chips with that?"
And I'd love to say that I'm thrilled about that and actually, I sort of am, but then again...babies.
Oh well. Lily's going to bring a new one into my life soon and HoneyLuna has a new baby, too. Sort of.
And I'm sure the entire planet would rock on its axis if I got paid for doing anything so in a way, we're all better off without me working in a hospital.
And I was feeling really, really depressed when I started writing this but now I feel better for some reason and I think I'll go out and dig up some border grass. It's hard work but no one's going to die if I do it wrong and I won't have to wear scrubs. Or even a bra.
Now if I could only get paid to do it....