There Is No Ground Floor In Hell
Mar. 13th, 2007 07:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thessalianI survived. Just about. Sort of. Oh gods, I don't wanna go in tomorrow...
Okay. The chair still hurts. The stress still gives me a pounding headache within maybe an hour of walking in. The office is overheated, which really doesn't help. This morning began with phone calls, some consultant who works for a completely different secretary taking over my office and massive stacks of notes from yet more clinic stuff yesterday needing to be typed. And this afternoon, I found out just how much of a PA I'm actually expected to be.
About an hour before I was set to pack up and go home, possibly less, one of the registrars walks into my office. Leaves my damn door open and hands me a stack of papers saying, "[Consultant] says he's sorry he didn't get much of a chance to go through this all..." Turns out that, despite the fact that I was called in to clear a typing backlog and no more, the consultants are so convinced that I am their godsdamned PA that I am expected not only to type their clinic letters, but to ship off their private patient referrals to where they're supposed to go, track down umpteen sets of notes, file a whole bunch of correspondence (which probably means tracking down more notes), make appointments (THE APPOINTMENTS OFFICE EXISTS FOR A FUCKING REASON!!!) and, best of all, ring up a patient and explain why he can't do something the patient wants him to do - in short, take yet more patient-related shit on his behalf. This is on top of finishing last week's clinic list typing, starting in on this week's clinic list typing (there was as much for yesterday as there was for all of last week, I shit you not, and there was clinic this afternoon as well, which means yet more to come), correcting my predecessor's entirely shitty work and fielding phone calls from irate entitlement bitches who stop just short of the point where I can definitely call 'verbal abuse' and hang up on them. All this in a chair that is rapidly turning my back muscles into something resembling a paving slab.
HATE THIS JOB. HATE IT HATE IT HATE IT.
There will be a brief turn on JusNoctis (apparently Astrid's new housemate Jack got himself set on fire so I kind of wanted to RP her reaction to her new housemate coming in with 2 Agg worth of burns), and then a brief spin on FFXI (I have plants to harvest) and then I'm going to be comatose for a few hours. Then, come morning, I will try to convince myself that either a) I can actually get out of bed and go through another day of this torture or b) I can justify the loss of income and general issues that will arise if I take the day off.
Okay. The chair still hurts. The stress still gives me a pounding headache within maybe an hour of walking in. The office is overheated, which really doesn't help. This morning began with phone calls, some consultant who works for a completely different secretary taking over my office and massive stacks of notes from yet more clinic stuff yesterday needing to be typed. And this afternoon, I found out just how much of a PA I'm actually expected to be.
About an hour before I was set to pack up and go home, possibly less, one of the registrars walks into my office. Leaves my damn door open and hands me a stack of papers saying, "[Consultant] says he's sorry he didn't get much of a chance to go through this all..." Turns out that, despite the fact that I was called in to clear a typing backlog and no more, the consultants are so convinced that I am their godsdamned PA that I am expected not only to type their clinic letters, but to ship off their private patient referrals to where they're supposed to go, track down umpteen sets of notes, file a whole bunch of correspondence (which probably means tracking down more notes), make appointments (THE APPOINTMENTS OFFICE EXISTS FOR A FUCKING REASON!!!) and, best of all, ring up a patient and explain why he can't do something the patient wants him to do - in short, take yet more patient-related shit on his behalf. This is on top of finishing last week's clinic list typing, starting in on this week's clinic list typing (there was as much for yesterday as there was for all of last week, I shit you not, and there was clinic this afternoon as well, which means yet more to come), correcting my predecessor's entirely shitty work and fielding phone calls from irate entitlement bitches who stop just short of the point where I can definitely call 'verbal abuse' and hang up on them. All this in a chair that is rapidly turning my back muscles into something resembling a paving slab.
HATE THIS JOB. HATE IT HATE IT HATE IT.
There will be a brief turn on JusNoctis (apparently Astrid's new housemate Jack got himself set on fire so I kind of wanted to RP her reaction to her new housemate coming in with 2 Agg worth of burns), and then a brief spin on FFXI (I have plants to harvest) and then I'm going to be comatose for a few hours. Then, come morning, I will try to convince myself that either a) I can actually get out of bed and go through another day of this torture or b) I can justify the loss of income and general issues that will arise if I take the day off.