Diaries Magazine

Some Notes About Nothing

By Torontoemerg

So. I didn’t get the job. When Human Resources called at last, I did get a version of the much-mocked praise sandwich:

Top Slice — Praise:  ”The Hiring Committee was very impressed by your interview, and was particularly intrigued by your idea to eliminate the hospital deficit by wheeling “surplus” patients into Lake Ontario. . .”

The Meaty Filling —The Crappy News Which is the Real Purpose of this Phone Call: “. .  . however ultimately some other hospital drone, carrying much less cat hair about their person, and also having a clear command of the English language, was chosen as the successful candidate. . .”

Bottom Slice — More Praise: “But the Hospital Corporation thinks you have potential and encourages you to apply to another of its many fine positions in the near future.”

To be honest, I was a bit disappointed, I think, because the interview went well enough to give me reason to believe I had some hope of getting the position. At any rate, my various spies tell me that I did quite well in the interview, there was a seriously ridiculous number of candidates, and — from an Important Hospital Personage — I am “on the very edge” of hanging up my greens forever. So stay tuned. I’m applying for another postion this week. Maybe this time I will utter the precise magical phrases.

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Mini-rant. Dear Prospective Emergency Department Patient: Please, when you present yourself at Triage, please refrain from bringing along your Tim Horton’s Extra Large Double Double and box of all-chocolate glazed Timbits. One, because it makes me doubt your sincerity and the validity/importance of your putative appendicitis, shoulder dislocation, haematemesis, giganto axillary abscess, Crohn’s exacerbation, pneumonia, myocardial infarction, major multi-system trauma, what-have-you; and two, more importantly, it causes me to spike my serum cynicism level, which I am trying to avoid. Thank you.

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I’ve been in conference/education Hell for the last few weeks, which is part of the reason for scanty posting. The other reason is that I’m pooped. Not from writing — it’s from the never-ending flood of patients lately, and also from some pretty horrific codes and traumas. Tons of shit — I mean some really awful things: I will have the image of the dead child we tried to resuscitate a couple of weeks ago etched in my mind forever, I think. We work in a culture which silently expects us to suck it up and deal with it. It shows how we treat each other as nurses, on how we relate to our families, on ourselves.


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