"It's taken care of."

On call shifts are #2 on my list of things I seriously dislike, second only to night shift. I got called in on my call shift last night... only to FLOAT to another floor. It took all of my strength and energy (which was very little considering the time of day-- 11pm) to prevent myself from bursting into tears. My distraught-ness was potentiated by the knowledge that I have to work the next three nights in a row anyway. So, this is my first four in a row on nights stretch, and I'm pretty sure that it will be what kills me. =(

They did just post a day position and I cannot even come close to articulating how essential to my sanity getting that spot is. I am losing my marbles-- they're all pretty much gone.. and this is just the START of my second week on nights.

(I genuinely love my job. And I am genuinely grateful for employment-- especially doing a job that fascinates me and challenges me and is something I feel good and excited about doing. I am very very very fortunate in that realm, and I fully recognize it).

My sister came up last weekend to visit. We had a grand old time. Actually far better than I expected. Saturday night we decided to go out to dinner to a fondue restaurant in Bellevue. She drove up that day and I had slept half the day after working Friday night, so we were both looking slightly scrubby. We went anyway with a 'who cares' attitude. We were smart enough to call and see what the parking situation would be like, but failed to think about making a reservation. It didn't cross my mind as I don't go to places where you need a reservation.. too hoity toity for me and chances are I can't afford it. So we hoof'd it over to Bellevue, and after a lap or two around the block, finally found the mysterious parking garage that had maybe 14 parking spots. Lame! But after circling the place several times, found a spot.
So we walk into the restaurant and we were both really hungry. Nicole walked in first and the host asked "What can I help you with?" This perplexed us. Usually they ask 'How many in your party?' Nicole later put it best: "What do you mean 'what can I help you with?' You can show me my table!" But instead of speaking she just looked at him awkwardly. So I walk in right behind her and without a second thought I say "Two please," and just in case he was hard of hearing or completely inept, I held up two fingers to really drive the point home. "Do you have a reservation?" he inquired. "...Nooope." He sighed and said that it would be a 30 to 45 minute wait. I was too hungry to search for another restaurant (and we brought a coupon for this place!) so we decided to wait it out in the bar.
We shuffled over to the overflow bar area where the bar tender informed us (kindly, not mean) that reservations are a good idea when one dines at this establishment. We were apparently lucky since it was Father's Day weekend, they were a little slow and we only had to wait 30-45 minutes. We shrugged our shoulders and he talked us into an appetizer which neither of us normally orders, but we were so hungry we decided to go for it. It was really good actually-- pesto and brie cheese and they brought crackers, grapes, apples and ...something else to spread it on. I was hesitant but it was delicious. 45 minutes later our table was ready and we cashed out at the bar-- Nicole threw her plastic down before I could, and so I said "okay, I'll pay for dinner then." I hate asking them to split the check. We hoof'd to our table and embraced the menu that offered POTS of melted cheese... and goodies to dunk in it. Seriously, whoever came up with fondue is a genius and should be publicly recognized as so.
This is where it gets ridiculous.
Our waiter (name NOT known.. young looking ..21 or 22 we decided, but cute) came when we were done looking at the menu. I (for no reason) had my menu open to the ridiculously long wine list (it was seriously like four pages of the menu) because we'd been commenting on how insanely expensive the wine was. So Waiter comes up and asks "Would you like a bottle of wine?" I said "..nope," and he gestured to the fact that it was open and I laughed shut it immediately. Then Nicole told him how it was too expensive for us. Classy. He crouched down and was super chatty in the I want a good tip so I'm going to try to befriend you in three minutes way.
Waiter: "What are you ladies up to tonight?"
Me: "She's in town visiting..."
Waiter: "No way, where from?"
Nicole: "Salem, Oregon..."
Waiter: "No way, I grew up in Klamath (?) and went to school at OSU!"
Us: "Awesome."
Waiter: "What else are you going to do tonight?"
-Nicole and I looked at each other and shrugged
Me: "...this is kinda it... I have a coupon!" THROWS coupon in his direction
Waiter: "WHAAAT? You're not taking her out on the town?"
Me: "...um... well... I'm still kinda newer to the area, I don't really know what to show her. Where do you think I should take her?"
Waiter: "oooh hmm.. there's a bowling alley in Capitol Hill that's really cool... wait-- you guys are 21 right???"
Us: fits of laughter
Nicole: "Oh, bless your little heart... yes we're over 21."
Waiter: "That's a cool place, I'm newer to the area, too so I'm trying to think of places.. there are a ton of bars that are good.."
Nicole: eye roll in my direction to which waiter picks up on and gives a confused look
Me: "... yea, the bar scene isn't really my favorite."
Waiter: "oh, do you drink at ALL?"
Me: "I don't NOT drink."
Waiter: "hmmm I'm trying to think of places. I'm not a big drinker, either..."
HE FINALLY DECIDED TO TAKE OUR ORDER

Not long after our melted cheese and delicious dippers (minus the moldy apple) came out and he put on a little show of mixing and melting the queso. He checked in frequently to make sure our dining experience was nothing short of delightful. The coupon I'd brought (brought'n.. hahahaha) was for a free dessert, so he knew to bring the dessert menu. We quickly decided and he brought it out within a few minutes. As he laid out all the insanely delicious things to dip in warm silky milk chocolate, he said "Enjoy, ladies. And it's all taken care of. The cheese, the chocolate.. it's taken care of." And he tossed the coupon back in my direction. Nicole and I were in a cheese coma and getting ready to embrace chocolate euphoria on top of it, so we were just like "Okay thanks..." But like two seconds after he walked away our brows simultaneously furrowed. "It's taken care of?" WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!
We spent the next ... twenty minutes trying to figure out what he was talking about as we embraced the chocolate-y goodness.

"Nicole, you need to CLARIFY what he means!" I hissed. She of course refused to do anything so logical. She insisted that means that we didn't have to pay for our meal and I was so confused as to WHY. (still am). We weren't heinous looking, but we weren't drop-dead-give-them-their-meal-free-gorgeous either.. what on EARTH made someone give us a free meal? Maybe between complaining about the pricey wine and chucking my coupon at him, Waiter decided to do his good deed for the day... I just don't know! So we were in quite the quirky mood by this point-- I'm pretty sure they spiked the chocolate, we couldn't stop giggling. It was SO MUCH FUN-- my sister and I fight far too much, and it was insanely refreshing to laugh with her for a whole night.

As we finished the chocolate fondue-- no dipper left behind, Waiter brings out slightly smaller pots of the dark chocolate and white chocolate fondue with extra dippers. Our eyes got huge as he said "And I brought you some extra goodies too!" I didn't know whether to laugh or cry-- I was SO FULL. But what sensible woman says "No thank you" to a pot full of chocolate with strawberries begging to be dunked?! So we went at it. We still didn't know what to do about "It's taken care of." Waiter kept checking in more and more frequently to see what he could get us.

As we lost steam on the second round of dessert, he came by and asked how it was blah blah blah and reiterated: "And it's alllllllllllll taken care of, you guys are set." I said "...really?" And he said "Yes, absolutely. It's taken care of." So we gave due thanks and he walked away. PERPLEXED. NAUSEOUS. STUPID HAPPY. So my genius sister convinced me (I blame drunkeness by chocolate) to leave my phone number for our generous Waiter and we left him a hefty tip. Shoot, if we were getting out of what would have been a very pricey meal, the least we could do was tip appropriately. I figured one of three things could happen:
1) Nothing at all.
2) He would call or text me and there are worse thing in the world than attractive young men calling me.
3) We totally misinterpreted what "It's taken care of" means, we walked away without paying AND they had my phone number to give to the police.

My new motto is 'without risk there's no reward,' so I made Nicole be the lookout as I scribbled my digits on a scrap piece of paper (he NEVER brought us a check!) and as I laid it on the table I insisted we leave IMMEDIATELY. The only thing more embarrassing than leaving your phone number in a public place is being caught by whoever you're leaving it for. So we scampered out like school children and burst into laughter as soon as we got out the door. We waddled to the car, decided to go bowling on a different day and made it back to my apartment without tossing our delicious fondue cookies.

It was a fun weekend and I'm glad she came up. No word from Waiter yet, but no word from the police, either. Fine by me.

SERIOUSLY: case in point.

Blinking Bug Bites

**EDIT** Shout out to David-- who introduced me to Hyperbole and a Half. I swear this person is me. When reading her posts I think "omg-- that's ME." it's uncanny.. check it out.

It is a shame that posting work-related stories on here is frowned upon.
Night shift and my ability to cope with it inevitably create situations that to the outside audience would undoubtedly be humorous.

That's all I have to say about that. Well, actually not-- I have a lot more, but will bite my tongue (...fingers...?)

I will say this:

-I have 24 bug bites. "What in the world from?" you might ask. From playing a riveting game of disc golf (aka Frisbee golf, frolf, etc). Last Sunday it was so nice out, so a friend and some friends of a friend went down by SeaTac to an 18 basket disc golf course. (Confession: I had no idea such courses existed). It took SEVERAL (read: more than five) hours to complete the course due to me not knowing how to efficiently or effectively throw a disc (don't dare call it a Frisbee..) to save my life. I was grateful for the other disc golf newbie who at the beginning shared the burden of 'that girl' who is really bad. But alas, it was her second time playing and she started to catch on about 6 baskets in. For the remaining twelve, I was the reason that each basket took a RIDICULOUS amount of time. My fellow disc golfers were pretty nice about it, though.. offering tips or showing me different ways to throw. For the record, before agreeing to go I said "I'm a kicker, not a thrower. I don't want to be a wet blanket, I've NEVER played before, and you guys are super good.." But the invitation to play stood, and I had no other plans for the sunny Sunday. So while I felt bad, I gave fair warning to at least one person in the party. ANYWAY-- those bug bites itch with FURY. Also, they blink like Christmas lights. They go from pink to white to pink to white to pink to white with my pulse. It's quite a freak show let me tell you. I am grateful that the majority of them are on my legs where my scrubs cover them for work. Wouldn't that be the treat-- the night shift nurse with blinking bug bites slinking into your room at 4am to take your vital signs. Geez louise.

-One of my good friends from high school is currently staying with me while she looks for an apartment in Seattle. She's moving here and it is SO EXCITING. I have really enjoyed having her company around and am genuinely looking forward to having an old friend here!

-I feel like I have more to say but that will have to be all for now. I need to try to squeeze a run in (no matter how half hearted it may be) before working tonight. ...night-shift is a swear word to me. But you all know how I feel about it so I will withhold my ranting for the time being.

Night Shift Blues

I am getting ready for my last day shift for six weeks. It is a tragic tragic tragic time.

I would rather have gloomy weather forever than work night shift.
I would rather eat this skin off a raw onion every day for breakfast than work night shift.
I would rather clip the toenails of a 90 year old man with a gnarly foot fungus than work night shift.
I would rather shave my head and eat all my hair than work night shift.

..Give me straight days or give me death.

I like interacting with my patients and their families. While the challenge of being a 'silent ninja' is slightly entertaining for a while, it is not enough to make night shift worth it. Yea, there are fun coworkers on night shift, but I am too beside myself due to the time of day to enjoy any of them. It is far from ideal.

Needless to say I haven't gotten any of the day shift positions I've applied for. It has been a great run on days. I made two patients my primaries and I love 'em. And I've learned SO MUCH on days-- it's crazy. Being involved in rounds makes a world of difference. Waaah, I'm really going to miss the chaos.

Please knock

My gym. Ugh.

I frequent an express version of my gym. Meaning it has less equipment and classes, no locker rooms and that, despite its name, it isn't actually open 24 hours a day. I am not sure how much longer I can grin and bear it. But, I don't know what other options are practical, especially in the financial department.
So this morning I went to the gym. I went to use the restroom before I got going (a last ditch procrastination effort...). There are four individual bathrooms in one hallway. I appreciate the individual part-- I've never been a fan of stalls. The doors have locks on them which is really good because instead of knocking on a closed door, people just wail on the handle and jiggle it furiously until they piece together that that particular bathroom is occupied.
I have a nervous bladder. If I know someone can hear me pee, I freeze up no matter how badly I have to go. This condition has taken on a new twist while at the gym. I am so terrified of two situations:
1) I forget to lock the door
2) The handle breaks (which judging by how aggressively some patrons open doors is bound to happen sooner than later).
So now, even though no one can hear me go, I get stage fright. I know that the second I let loose, some meat head is going to come barging through the door and see me in my half naked squatting glory (I'm a hover-er in public places... especially the gym, they're bad at cleaning). The anxiety of using the bathrooms at this place is enough to give one's heart a cardio workout without boarding a treadmill or bouncing along on an elliptical.
What happened to good old fashioned knocking?! This is how I approach the bathrooms:
1) Soft knock
2) If no answer, try the handle; if answer, move on.
It's really one of the simplest two step processes EVER. SERIOUSLY PEOPLE.