After my Ben was born while I was still in college, I had to reexamine the whole, “I’m gonna be a doctor” dream that I’d been nursing for as long as I could walk and talk (to be fair, however, I should point out that it wasn’t bloody likely that I was going to get into med school anyway.). So I had a choice: teaching or nursing. The only two professions I was likely to make any scratch at upon graduation.
(okay, hindsight being what it is, I should have broadened my horizons somewhat. I hear there’s a huge need for Underwater Basket Weavers these days.)
I settled on nursing, knowing that I *probably* wasn’t going to like it. My family wasn’t entirely supportive of my choice, and to be completely honest, I really didn’t know what nurses did. Besides get HUM-VEE’s as a sign-on bonus at hospitals.
I’ll give you a second to laugh.
But the moment that I walked into my first nursing class, I knew I’d made a mistake. I was NEVER going to like it. I spent the first day (no seriously) learning how to properly wipe a patient’s ass. Important, yes, but did we REALLY need the power points?
I’d already done a year of pre-reqs and I knew that if I brought my sorry butt back to my parents (where Ben and I lived) and begged to change majors, it would be another tick mark in the Becky Sucks A Lot category. Which was already steadily outpacing the Becky Might Not Suck Quite So Much category.
So I sucked it up, thinking that I could do anything for awhile. I’d just go back to school when Ben was older for something I really wanted (I knew then that Medical School was out, but microbiology was in. Kind of like skinny jeans except not). I’d get by. Whatever.
I graduated 2 years later, my BSN neatly in my back pocket and still completely aware that I hated the profession I was about to enter into. So what? Plenty of people went to their 9-5 hating every second of it, right?
About 2 months before my wedding (which, as any bride knows, is when things start to go apeshit), I made the gravest of errors. I’d gone in to interview for an ICU position at a local hospital, and I let the HR person talk me from the ICU position (the only position I swore I would do in a hospital) to a Cardiac Floor.
Floor nurses, I should add, lest anyone think I hate NURSES which I do not, deserve a special place in heaven. Really, they do. Hospitals are run by them and they’re notoriously used an abused by pretty much every single staff member. It’s hard work. And it’s NOT the sort of job one can fake it ’til they make it.
Any job that comes with a Do This The Right Way So You Don’t Get Your Ass Sued Off disclaimer is a job that you need to LOVE. Otherwise, in this litigious-happy society, do you really want to bet your own house that you gave the patient the right meds?
I didn’t last 6 ever-loving weeks on the floor I later learned was a Bad Floor. Bad management trickled down into a bunch of unhappy employees who constantly undercut each other. No wonder HR wanted me there: they had a ton of vacant positions.
After 6 weeks, at the not-so-delicate urging of my soon-to-be husband The Daver, we decided that I was going to stay home with Ben for once. Which I did, nearly at the cost of my own sanity, for a couple of months until we moved back to St. Charles and the prospect of dueling mortgages left me once again looking for work.
And then I found my perfect job…
Part II will air tomorrow. I know, I know, I’m an asshole for the cliffhangers, I’m sorry.
So, The Internet, have you ever had a job that you absolutely hated? I don’t mean “disliked” or even “really disliked” I mean HATED so much it that thinking about having to go into work left you sick to your stomach.