I Work SOOO Hard at Being The Nice Girl…

Some days, though. I can’t even, for the most part.

Yesterday was one of those days. I woke up, thinking it was Saturday, but it was Wednesday. How soul-crushing is that?

I get to my office, head up to my daily Safety Huddle, grab an omelette from Chef Carl, who is my reason for getting up on Wednesday mornings, even if I think they are Saturdays. I order my usual: egg whites with the good veggies, some ham and mozzarella inside and out.

I get in front of my computer with my Tabasco-laced breakfast and open my email and there it is. The downfall of my day. I went home early sick on Monday and on Tuesday morning I found an email from my nemesis, written during second shift. The content of said email is neither here nor there, but I respond in kind, sort of drawing a picture without crayons, even though I believe the recipient needs an actual picture drawn out for them. The response was sent early yesterday morning, to which I replied. I worded my response as carefully as I could, simply because I know my nemesis would probably forward this response to my boss and his bosses above him.

I’m still not exactly sure what transpired between this person and my boss, but I receive a call from my boss wanting to know what, exactly I sent to my nemesis, so I forwarded all correspondence to him.

By now? I’m pissed (sorry, Mom) because while I used to be able to do evaluations and write-ups? That falls in my boss’s lap, now, and just about every day for the past week or so, my nemesis has screwed something up, so I keep my boss in the email loop, yet NOTHING is being done. In the old days? I would have already written her up for insubordination and lack of professional communication, separately, which would have gotten her terminated. It’s out of my hands now.

I regressed to my former, unprofessional, Sicilian-tempered self and blurted (out loud, no less) that should I come across this person on the street, I would happily whoop her ass. (Again, sorry, Mom.)

A nice girl can only take so much.

For every email I now send, my boss has a courtesy copy, and I print everything, so to say I have a thick file of paper-trail is an understatement. I don’t know what my boss is waiting for, but I’m hoping that someone will do something before my nemesis takes another patient off of the cardiac floor without notifying a monitor tech. These techs need to know where their patients are at all times in case their monitors (or God forbid their hearts) go ka-floo-ey. I don’t need someone dying on my watch to prove a point.

All that being said? I’m done being the nice girl. Nice doesn’t save lives and it doesn’t win friends and influence people in my immediate circle.

Until next time…


About Julie the Workaholic

Mom of three (grown) sons and one (grown) step-daughter, wife of one, friend of many, and owned by seven 4-legged critters, writer, photographer, friend, huge fan of life, and most of all, lover of all things beautiful .….Getting healthy, and hoping to make a dent in the world in a most positive way! (And then there's my alter-ego, the Workaholic, who is me, just unfiltered.)
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