like a boss...supervisor?

I left work this morning all giddy because it's Monday (Holla!) and Monday is my Friday. It was only 2 days because I had a vacay day on Friday night. It was the longest and strangest 2 days. I hate dealing with problems. I ought to write the shit you don't learn in nursing school manual.
-the electricity is out on the first floor in the back hall way and how do you turn it back on? Well, do I look like a master electrician? Fuck no, but you turn into one real quick. A trip to the basement with my mechanical minded nurse with a death wish -who will also serve as a witness should an electrical incident occur- and the right key has up flipping switches on circuit breakers and crossing our fingers.
Nursing students!!!! You are maintenance.
-that bed's broken. Well, you go into your bag of tricks. The bag that is nursing related and contains a tool belt. You get out your screwdriver and crawl around on the floor and fix that fucker. Like it or not. Like a mechanical engineer.
-there's a flood. Well, you throw down some blankets and sop it up. I don't do wet vacs and I don't mop. Cause housekeeping is just beneath me. The most I do is turn off the water source. Like a master plumber.
-the bed is broken part II. The screwdriver just doesn't suffice. The frame has detached and is slightly mangled with a person in the bed. Oh, yeah, bitches. The only empty bed's on the 2nd floor and you and your only volunteer aid push it down the hall, down a hill, onto the elevator to the first floor. Into the hallway, take the headboard and footboard off because it's jammed sideways in the hall and won't make the turn. All the while arguing with the asshat, highly medicated mentally ill  housekeeper with huge trash barrels that is telling you to fucking move. Push the bed allllllll the way down the hall. Move the patient safely, move the other bed, exchange mattresses because one is special and the other is not, put fucking humpty back together again. Like a magician.
-first floor paranoid nurse hears noises and bangs on the outside of the building, 2 days in a row. New noises for this old building and it's freaking people out. What does one do? Call the supervisor who is the only one willing to go outside and check the perimeter of the building to shoo away whatever is banging on the walls. There was no one there and they made sure to watch her from the windows inside just incase an intruder was out there in the attack mode. The supervisor comes back inside and at the urging of paranoid nurse who is freaking out and getting old school nurse mad, supe calls the cops to be on the safe side. Paranoid nurse ALWAYS thinks that someone is watching her and that someone is going to abduct, rape, mutilate, murder her and leave her on the roadside for dead. Meanwhile paranoid nurse has also got the patients awake and involved the fracas of the noises. Supe then has to reassure both paranoid nurse and her patients and calm down old school mad nurse. Then supe gets to talk  to the cop. The patrol car shows up 10 minutes later and paranoid nurse now feels safe. Supe goes to the patrol car and talks to the cop who doesn't even waste time getting out of said patrol car. Supe explains all of this and then he says to call back if someone is actually seen or these noises occur again and do not go outside to chase him/her/they/it away! Oh, yes, Mr Officer, you fine specimen who smells so perfectly delicious as the cologne wafts out the patrol car window. I felt like yelling, "Taze me, Mr Officer! I have been a bad nurse." But I doubted he'd get my sense of humor or take me seriously.
-there is one missing percocet on cart b. What do we do, supervisor? Supervisor doesn't fucking care. Really, I don't fucking care. Not one bit. But I have to care a little and launch into a Sherlock Holmes fucking investigation into solving this fucking mystery all the while avoiding calling the nurses on the cart fucking perc addicts. Where oh where did that percocet go? I dive into this like a DEA agent and sniff out that percocet. Know it all nurse who tells EVERYONE ELSE WHAT TO FUCKING DO BECAUSE SHE IS SO FUCKING PERFECT didn't sign it out. Crisis avoided. I didn't have to call the cops and make a police report for one missing pill.
-did the results of that scrotal ultrasound come back, supervisor? WTF? What's wrong with his balls? Elevate those balls. Prop those old balls up and treat them like they're golden genitalia. Wrinkly old ball sacks, hooray! If that ultrasound says this, then he has to go to the hospital immediately. This is serious because we don't want him to lose his genetalia and have to have a scrotal amputation. What the friggin fuck!? Seriously. A scrotal emergency on a fucking Saturday night? That could have been handled on a Thursday or Friday, but this has to happen on the weekend. And you know what...those balls, that scrotal sack will sit propped on that towel til Monday because Dr on-call doesn't see the emergency that nurse in charge sees. As the scrotum turns...I'm sure he'll need his scrotum sometime between, say, now and the hour of his death.
-you have passed my timeline for dealing with shit at 6am. I love it when bodies hit the floor at 615am and then when supervisor is her most agitated and disgruntled she has to shift from 'get me the fuck outta here' mode to 'let's get  er done' mode and we move fast and we still leave on time because we are a fucking dysfunctional family team. We move fast at 6am because we could not live with ourselves if we had to spend one extra moment in that building...with dayshit's misery.
Lie a boss...the whole crew of us...the plumbers, the engineers, the housekeepers, the security patrol. Jill of all trades master of none.

Jill
3/19/12