The New Job and Random Bitching

Yesterday, I accepted a new job. One that will not involve speaking to patients or anyone like the fucking DICK who just hung up on me. (I swear to God, you motherfucking idiot, if you are sending records to a hospital, first get the right address and/or the name of someone specific or a specific department to which you would like them to GO. If you are too stupid to recognize the importance of this step, you can’t get pissed at me when I don’t know where the god damn records are, you fucking douche.)

Let me start again.

Ahem…

Okay, so I got a new job. No patients, no douchebags, and no fellow employees to speak of. All this because I will be working from the office in my apartment. Did you hear me?! MY APARTMENT. I don’t have to trek back and forth to the hell that is my current office. I don’t have to sit in traffic. Hell, I don’t even have to wear clothes if I don’t want to. HA! (In your FACE, yellow!)

The pay is a little less, but the theory is that if I don’t have to spend money on gas, horrible hospital cafeteria food, or internet anymore (they will pay my internet bill and give me a brand new computer and phone line) then I will save as much money as I would have been losing. It is perfect. The downfall is that I will have to work Saturday and Sunday. But clearly, if my office is two feet from my room, getting up at 6:45 to work at 7 won’t really be that big of an issue. (And no one will know when I am hungover.) The three days that I will work during the week are entirely up to my discretion. From what I understand, I will have a set schedule for six months (which I will make myself) and then I can switch it around if need be. That means, more time for school and more time for sleeping in! (I heart sleeping in.)

The best part is that, since the job is within the SAME company, nothing changes as far as my benefits go. It’s a beautiful thing. After being here for almost seven years and starting the process to find a new job, it was scary to think that I would have to start all over from the bottom. And now I don’t. And I am so freaking happy. But now I have to wait another month (18 weekdays) before I am out of this hellhole for good and into the land of the free. You know…where there are no evil, solitaire-playing spies and micromanagers. A land where you don’t have to share a kitchen with that idiot from this morning who was walking around with a doughnut hanging from his fat face letting crumbs fall down nearly missing my coffee while he jumped in front of me in line (seriously, no matter what I was trying to get to, he was in my fucking way). Yeah, that guy can bite me. Along with that patient who calls every day because he thinks that because he lives 45 minutes away, I should accommodate him in any way he feels is necessary. “I don’t want to drive all the way there. It will take two hours out of my day. Can’t you just call my prescription in? While you’re at it, can you go and pick it up for me? And hey, after that, can you drop it at my house, get me a glass of water and place the pill lightly on my tongue. And I don’t swallow too well on my own, could you massage my throat and ease the pill down? What? You don’t DO that kind of thing? What kind of hospital IS this?!” Assholes. I swear.

I could go on about this, but it would be a long, long post. Because clearly, there are more things that I can’t wait to get away from than there are that I will miss. Either way…18 days, suckas!

Also...did Brandy get in a car accident? Because I've had like 78 searches for "Brandy car accident" in the last two days. Do you people know something I don't?