I got called into the office last night to help out since they're one short this week. As I was getting settled in, I happened to glance down and see a huge three-ringed binder, completely full of all kinds of paper. With my name in 100 point font taped to the side.
Hmmmm......
I picked it up and started going through it, thinking it was perhaps some training manual I received when I first started. This would make complete sense for it to be randomly stored on an open shelf where anyone can grab it and start going through it. Who keeps those, right?
It wasn't.
It was, instead, a complete snapshot of me. Well, the professional me, anyway. This binder had my original application to the hospital, copies of training certificates from trainings I had a few years ago, copies of my diploma and licesencing certificate, my resume, my credentialing packets for the hospitals where I work....
And let me digress for a moment. First, those packets are a shere pain in the arse and I detest completing them. I wait until the last possible moment to turn them in because, well, I just do. (I told you about my Oppositional Paperwork Disorder.) Thankfully I only have to turn them in every other year. On the flip side, you have to complete different packets for each hospital. And they're both LONG packets. And you have to sign all these assinine forms that verify you're a US citizen, and that you understand HIPPA laws, and that you understand the hospital's policy on medical records, and that you're not a convicted felon, and that you've never been cited for ethics violations, and that you've never used illegal drugs....(this one gets a bit sticky. Who went to college and never smoked pot? Never mind. I recently discovered three people in my circle of friends who have never toked. Ever. It still blows me away. So to speak. I mean, smoking doobage in college is a right of passage that ranks up there with your first kiss and learning to drive, right?) Say you: Your drug use history is fascinating, but could you save it for the rehab people and get to the point?
Say me: Almost there.
So. All of this information about me--my address and phone numbers, references I've used in the past--including their addresses and phone numbers, my entire work history, my educational history, my W-9 * from my old job--all of it was nicely compiled, with dividers and colored tabs, in one folder.
Which was sitting on an open shelf, on the floor (thus easily accessible) in the admissions office.
Taunting people.
"Open me!"
"Browse me!"
"Peruse me!"
"Study me!"
I was stunned. I read it, naturally and even then felt a bit reticent doing so.
When the tech walked in I asked him how long the folder had been in the office:
Me, holding up the offending binder as exhibit A: How long has this been in here?
Tech: Since I've been here.
Me: Well, how long has that been?
Tech: I dunno. Couple of months?
A couple of months. Which means in reality that binder's been there since the dawn of time. Patient records? Those are literally under lock and key. Employee records? Lying on the preverbial coffee table, ready to be snagged for bathroom reading.
Excellent. ->
*A tax form I had to complete when I worked as a contractor. It has my social security number on it. Not something I want advertised. Thanks for asking, though.)
Read the complete post at http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/tXCM/~3/WMv_11yVCl8/office-reality-as-opposed-to-slick.html
Posted
21 Jul 2009 4:09 PM
by
Trench Warfare
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