bureaucracy sucks

Showed up right on time for filling out paperwork Thursday, looking rather spiffy, if I do say so myself. Blouse, slacks, heels (yes, heels). Shoot, I even wore pantyhose. I may have been slightly overdressed, since the other new employee showed up in jeans and a "somewhere over the rainbow" t-shirt. It took about an hour and a half to fill out everything I needed to fill out. I don't think I ever want to write my name, birthdate, and the last four digits of my social security number again. Phew! Then they hustled me up the stairs for a pee test and a blood draw (the tech laughed at me after I pointed out my best vein, then turned away and cringed when she came at me with the needle). I was then informed that I would have to come back for a physical in approximately an hour.

Okay. Sounds good. The physical included some random balance testing (walking heel to toe, starting on heel, rolling up to tip-toe) which I can't do even on a good day, people!! God help me if I ever have to do a sobriety test. . .grace is certainly not my strong point (I have been called disgraceful. . .oh, wait, that's something different), although, starting when I was in kindergarten, my parents did attempt to streamline my klutziness into something that passed for normal with years of ballet and then yoga. . .so now I'm an extremely flexible klutz.

Anyway, that segued into fit testing a mask for airborne pathogens and a decon suit physical exertion test which involved me donning the equivalent of my firefighting SCBA, a seatbelt, a car battery, a helmet, muck lucks, and a vinyl shower curtain, and running up and down the hospital hallway several times to "get my heart pumping."

Did I mention I was wearing heels? Tall ones? And have I also mentioned that I am earlythirtysomething, but because of the previously stated long-term lack of coordination, I didn't get my first pair of high heels until about a year and a half ago? I just got my training wheels off, for goodness sake! Ride a bike in heels? yeah, I can do that. Run in heels? With a bunch of extra gear on? Probably not.

So I kicked 'em off, jogged in my stockings. Got some strange looks, but that may have been because of the outfit, not the stocking feet. Finished up with a HR of 68, BP 117/76, RR 12. RN then told me that she needed all my worker's comp paperwork from my on the job shoulder strain from November.

I went home, retrieved the paperwork. Came back. Was informed that I needed a doctor's release to return to work before I could start at Meth Central. I argued, in my nicest, sweetest voice, that because I didn't miss any work for the injury, I didn't get a release to return to work. Was informed that I needed one, anyway.

Huh. So Diva Daughter and I vroomed to the MD's office clear across town. Brought bubble gum, paper, and crayons, and hunkered down in the waiting room for an anticipated long wait. After an hour, the receptionists finally took pity on us and set me up with a doc who, I've heard, ordinarily has the bedside manner of a dirtclod, but who this time managed a grunt and a smile as he signed me off. Seven minutes and a signature, for the cost of a regular appointment, of course.

Back to Meth Central Med Center. (anyone else keeping track? The tally is now at 4) Slid papers under RN's office door. Headed home, kicked off the heels, cooked dinner for my kiddos.

Tuesday, tuesday, thank my lucky stars for Tuesday. A paycheck is on the horizon. . .