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Torture Squad on the Way

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post #5
bio: vera
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10/8/2004
11:38

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Torture. Spies. Dumbass.

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Torture. Spies. Dumbass.


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Have you ever worked with one of those people who always manage to NOT do their job? And, somehow, the boss lets this happen year after year? They get little reprimands and allowances, and nudges, and are allowed to make excuses like: "I didn't know. Oh, I forgot. Hmmm...when did that procedure develop? THAT'S how we do it?? No one ever told me! There are too many changes, I can't keep up. It's always different; it's not fair; this isn't right. Well, someone just needs to tell me these things and I'll do them."

I have worked with this exact person as part of a "team," for 5 years now and his name is Dick, but mine is certainly not Jane. He's had his job making more than I do 15 years and is in his mid-fifties--old enough to have learned something from his three work suspensions per year, the negative feedback from co-workers, the heavy hints and direct insults, the disciplinary actions, the corrective training, the D's on his performance reviews, and moreŚlike, no one wants to have him for dinner nor remembers his birthday. Why has he never been fired? Is it something about employing teamwork-challenged individuals because they need the most help? He's a charity case? He makes everyone else look good? Wait, is it butt-kissing?

Yesterday, he failed to complete a task at 2pm which he led two supervisors to believe was done and this failure caused reverberations which lasted well into the night and detrimentally affected 25 patients. Every day for 15 years now he is supposed to deliver the 24-hour supply of medications we prepare daily for all hospital inpatients. Late last night it dawned on me why there were a slew of phone calls to the pharmacy about "missing meds" and why my pharmacist and I were crazed with the onslaught and running relays in the (long hospital) halls and enduring numerous complaints: "I can't find...I don't have...where is...was anyone working in the pharmacy today?" And add on the catch-up work, needlessly angry nurses, and other hospital departments screaming for their turn to get attention. Oh, and, Dick is the one who prepared the medications in the first place and yes, the task was riddled with errors, just like ducks peppered with buckshot.

Something had niggled in my head for hours during this daymare then it knocked me on the forehead and at 9:30pm I ran to the bins of stored medications, started yanking open drawers, saw the dirty deed not done, then screamed abuse (death threats) about Dick, then I turned yelling to the pharmacist who thought I was being murdered and threw the entire load of stuff I had in my hands so high it hit the ceiling and bounced around coming down. His mouth fell open.

It's just....I work my ass off and Dick does NOT. I worked with him all day then suffered the results of his jackass stupid retarded purposely obtuse behavior all evening, and this was Evening #666.

When I get to work today Dick had better be fired by the manager or I will fire, kill, dismember, dislocate, decompensate, draw, quarter, string, stretch, and disarrange every bone, muscle, ligament and vessel in his sorry thing he calls a working body. That sound fair?

THE IMPLEMENTS OF TORTURE ARE AT HAND!!


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