Revenge is a Dish Best Served in 57 Minutes

I am firmly convinced that HR departments (at least the one in my hospital) are run by sadistic, soulless evil minions of Satan. After doing four full night shifts in a row, I went to the department to pick up some income tax forms. Now herein lies the dilemma – my shift usually ends at 0700. The HR department opens at 0800. I went down to the department at 0740 to see if some kind soul would just type in a seven letter password, click print and hand me the piece of paper so I could go home, flop onto my couch and dream that I’m a fabulously wealthy traveler. Instead I walked into a room full of people who at first completely ignored me and then proceeded to berate me for being there. I very politely asked if they could kindly print me the form so I could make my train and get some rest before I would have to come back for yet another night. One particular man told me that I would have to come back in precisely 19 minutes to get the form. For a moment I thought he was joking. He was not. I asked him again, this time practically begging. He told me that since the department is not officially open for another 19 minutes, he cannot print me the form I needed, despite the fact that he was logged onto his computer. Clearly, I was going to lose the battle so I retreated to Starbucks cursing under my breath.

In exactly 19 minutes I was defeated but slightly more caffeinated and crabbily asked for my form. And then that malicious troll tells me “2 more minutes”. This was far too much for my over-caffeinated sleep deprived and emotionally labile brain. I started to wildly point at the massive digital clock in front of the department that said 0800 and demanded that my form be print. He then pointed to his clunky analogue wrist watch and said, “not according to my watch”. Standing there for 2 minutes, I watched him calmly sip his coffee and smear icing over his keyboard and thought to myself that I would exact payment from him a hundred fold if I ever got the opportunity. He finally opened the application, asked for my employee number and last name and gave me my form. Feeling livid yet helpless I asked him why he couldn’t have just done that for me 20 minutes ago. “You’re not special enough to break rules for” was his curt reply.

I stormed out of the department, got home an hour later than I normally would have and ate a giant bowl of rice to try to silence the fury within. After a hot shower and a long nap, my encounter with the evil HR troll became nothing more than an irritating memory.

However, on rare occasions, karma works in my favour. On my next set of shifts, the very same troll was in the waiting room and triaged to fast track for flank pain. He looked visibly uncomfortable while I looked positively overjoyed. When I went out to the waiting room to introduce myself and to bring him inside the department, he didn’t initially recognize me. But boy oh boy did that change fast! Normally I use a 20 gauge angiocath – he got a 16 gauge (it’s a much fatter IV needle). He then started to look at me as if he recognized me (and wronged me) but wisely kept quiet. Perhaps he was cursing his dumb luck and was hoping that I wouldn’t remember him. Fat chance buddy. Fat chance. He was ordered 4-6 mg morphine q4h prn. I normally push morphine but for him, I made a cute little mini-bag and let it drip slowly. I kept an eye on him but in 3 hours he asked for another dose. The satisfaction I felt in telling him that he would have to wait exactly 57 minutes for his next dose while watching his face contort in agony and horror was beyond anything I can articulate. After 57 minutes had passed, I took my sweet time in setting up another mini bag. A better person than me would have let the entire thing go. A better person would not have had this to blog about.

So let this be a lesson to evil HR people who don’t take mercy on night shifting staff – vengeance will be sought and you won’t enjoy it one bit!