Another week in paradise, part two
By 3wyto0 on Thursday, March 8 2018, 11:14 - Permalink
Sadly, more of the same.
Wednesday day 23 - 9 days to go.
Even more chaos in the stores this morning. The visiting technicians ask me why I spend all my time down here - I tell them I believe it to be a punishment for daring to resign. Much of the stuff that was there from yesterday lunch time is still there so I attack it best I can. There is a hold up when the fire alarm goes off again, another false alarm. It is so loud as to be painful, you are in a confined space with the thing on the wall six feet away. After five minutes I go off and get some tea, it's still howling when I get back so I wait outside in the corridor as the crack team from ISS try and find out what's wrong. At this point Mrs G arrives, well storms out of the lift - "why aren't you answering the phone she bellows" , I open the stores door and cup my hand to my ear - "pardon, what did you say". The things you have to do to educate people. Back in the stores later Ms. J comes in, she's heard I'm off but she strongly advises me to put it in writing, recounting the story of a colleague that had given verbal notice to the WW to have that conversation denied just before she was due to go. The WW then enforced the two months notice.
Afternoon is reception again. All the time I'd been doing this job I'd been uncomfortable with the personal questions I have to ask people that are probably not feeling at their best. We are told we have to gather this information so the correct ward can be sent a bill for the medicine, this requires us to obtain the patients full name and address and "do they have to pay?". At this point they may have to disclose that they are on benefits. Some older people, the over sixties, will often be proud of their survival and will volunteer their date of birth to confirm their age, parents will often disclose their child's birth-date as under 18's don't pay. So if you're our pantomime villain, (who has to be Mr Crawford in our fiction) stood in the queue at the window you can glean some very useful information just by keeping your ears open. This gets worse, in order to charge the right department we have to ask which consultant they've seen today? Well, as they could have been here 8 hours already and seen more people than the Queen on an official visit, they are justifiably confused. If they can't give us a consultant's name we have to ask which department they've been to, as these often have complex names the patient will default to telling you what's wrong with them. This can be very embarrassing for all concerned. Now if you're Mr C and you hear that Lady Loxley (no not that one) has just been to the Genitourinary Clinic following her holiday in Egypt you might, being a totally unscrupulous character wonder if Lord Loxley is aware of his wife's complaint. This is of course speculation. The reality of asking very sick people what's wrong with them can elicit the response, "the same f*****g thing that was wrong with me last time you asked, the prescription is for my chemotherapy, where else do you think I've been?" So we embarrass people and get them to disclose personal private information to anyone that is listening in order to keep the bureaucracy happy. There must be a better way.
At 5.45 I'm summoned by the WW for a further interrogation as to my reasons for leaving. What could we do differently? Has someone upset you? I stick to the line that it's not for me and keep apologizing. When I finally persuade her I've nothing to add I get away to find the bus has gone and it's 20 minutes for the next one.
Just 8 days now.