Sunday, December 14, 2008

Ideal vs. Real

Sometimes during shifts I imagine what my ideal day involving work would be like. At this point I stare dreamily into space (or start doing the sleepy head bob) and start going through ideal scenarios. After many hours spent trying to avoid work, I’ve come up with the following as my ideal day.

Wake up thoroughly refreshed and run for 45 minutes. Take a shower, get dressed, have my hair arrange itself perfectly and merrily walk to the train station. When I get to work, I’d give the Starbucks guy a winning smile while ordering my latte and perhaps flirt a little (he’s cute!). When I get to the ER, I receive a perfect report that only includes what the patient came in with, the plan for the patient and what I have to do. I complete my assessments and interventions flawlessly while amiably chatting with fellow coworkers. I receive patients who are pleasant and don’t ask for narcs every 10 minutes. The docs write sane orders in legible handwriting and understand if there are delays from the lab. At the end of the day, I merrily go back to the train station after meeting up with friends for a treat before going home. When I get home, I’d shower, eat a delicious yet nutritious dinner and then crawl into bed and sleep a peaceful and restorative sleep.

Unfortunately my real day goes something like this:
I wake up 30 minutes late and first words out of my mouth are ‘OH CRAP I’M GONNA BE LATE AGAIN!’ I blindly find my way to the bathroom and stub my toe unleashing another deluge of profanities and then get dressed. I run like a madwoman to the train station and barely make it on only to face the glares of the commuters who made it on time. I catch a glimpse of myself and look something like this but am too drowsy to care. I glower at the coffee guy when he gives me a large instead of an x-large and wish a pox on his house. I stumble my way inside to be assaulted with a needlessly boring and drawn out report and then realize that there’s a boat-load of stuff that needs to be done. When the doc decides to be bitchy about a lab delay I utilize my proxy vernacular of passive aggression and steal his pens before passing out during my break. After wishing I chose chocolate-taster as a career I give a scathing smile to the narc addict while telling him/her that they can’t have another dose while the charge nurse brings me a patient with a chart that might as well say colostomy bag explosion. At the end of my shift I pass out on the train (probably drooling) and count-down to when my next set of days of begin. I get home, shower and furiously stuff my face before crashing and repeating the whole thing again the next day!

Clearly my ideal and real days are lacking some congruency but for the most part, my real days don’t have quite such an acerbic flavour as the one I’ve described above! What’s your version of an ideal day? What’s your real day like? Share please!


Glee said...

Real day: Wake up at some godawful early hour. Book it to work. Greeted by patients who are pissed off that I woke them up to take their blood pressure. Sometimes greeted by poo. Go home 12 hours later, feed Cecil, fall into bed for SSDD tomorrow.

Ideal day: Wake up, realize I'm in Maui and my own personal cabana boy is rubbing lotion on my...
Sigh. Again, huge disparity.

massageon said...

Ideal Day: Wake up after a peaceful nights rest. Walk with no pain to the shower and invigorate myself to wakefulness while patting myself on the back for having such a beautiful and perfect body. Leisurely do my makeup and hair and pick out a suit, which has been perfectly dry cleaned and looks professional. Take the bus to work, receiving a free hazelnut iced coffee on the way for being so awesome. Fly through all my implementations at the bank and leave work early. Get home to a meal that has already been prepared and a perfectly clean house and smiling child.

Real Day: Wake up bleary eyed at the first alarm. Hit snooze. Toss and turn till the alarm goes off again. Kick myself for not getting up when the first alarm went off. Drag my tired ass into the bathroom and accidentally shampoo with body wash. Hurriedly whip on some makeup and throw my hair into some weird looking pony tail/bun thing. Look in mirror - Shrug. Jesus, I look like a beached whale with this pregnant belly. Rush to the bedroom and pick up a wrinkled "dress shirt" from the floor, shaking it for good measure. Find some awkward fitting maternity pants. Shrug again. Oh well. Rush to the little ones room WAKE UP!!! Make him sit on the potty and put on big boy undies. Hurry up~!!!! Aaaaaaaarrrrggghh. He INSISTS on dressing himself which takes 10 years. Rush out the door holding him like a football and throw him into carseat. Drive to nanny's, push him through the door and wish for a drink already. Take the bus to work. Lot's of traffic. Going to be late for sure. Get to work and every Single Freaking implementation has delays and issues which I am blamed for. Trudge through 8 hours of corporate BS and cry on my way home in front of everyone else on the bus. The house is a mess. Order pizza, thinking Forget Nutritious at least we're eating. Realize I've forgotten my kid at the nanny's. Pass out from sheer exhaustion.