I am not sure why someone in hospital administration thought this was a good idea, but we have a robot that travels around the place. It apparently carries menus, small supplies, Do Not Resuscitate Orders and other frippery.
The robot looks like a cross between R2D2 and Rosie O’Donnell, with a personality strongly favoring the latter. Whenever it gets in your way (planted astride the corridor, blocking access to the elevator etc.) it detects your presence with its venomous little electric eye, and says something friendly like PLEASE STAND CLEAR. If it does not get its way, it sulks, emitting hostile robot rays, relays faintly clicking with disdain.
My feelings toward it go beyond Ludditery. It is a malevolent little entity. I do not trust it. And while I would never, ever wish any harm upon its squat self, if someone were to trip and accidentally send a huge glurt of coffee down its innards, short circuiting it with a squealing of sparks and rending groans of metal, I would not be entirely sorry.
There’s one of those type things in a building around here that I visit sometimes. It doesn’t look like Rosie O’Donnell, though, nor like Rosie the Robot. It looks like a small, purposeful, self-propelled filing cabinet. They use it to deliver the mail.
Jeez, You have a freeking ROBOT at your hospital and you are complaining? The hospital I work at barely has computers! I stock our floors with supplies, and have to do the inventories by PAPER AND PENCIL! And the facility is only four years old! We were promised State-Of-The-Art at first, but thanks to a lousy budget and insane wages for certian medical staff, there were sacrifices made.
I would have prefered an evil robot to my last co-worker.
I’ve been thinking about pitting the robot for some time. What crystallized things was hearing one of the orderlies/transporters bitching to a patient about it. I think there may be concern that the hospital will buy a fleet of them to chaffeur patients around, which is a gruesome thought (I envision a mass malfunction, resulting in a huge jam-up of patient carts and frantically beeping robots down some obscure corridor by the laundry).
Or worse, they will be trained to detect and treat sudden cardiopulmonary adverse events (***CODE BLUE!! CODE BLUE!! CODE BLUE!! ***—smooshing sound as fleet of robots trample everything in their path to get to the victim, who tries to wave them off— “But I don’t wanna be defibrillated!” ZAP!!!).
The robot of which I spoke is actually called “Rosie” by some, just “the #$^& robot” by others. Maybe I am reading too much into its sullen demeanor. Maybe it is dreaming of making time with that cute EKG machine on 4 North and not paying attention.
Our mail robot followed a magnetic strip embedded in the floor. Maybe you could detour yours with a trail of liquid leading to the nearest down staircase.
I guess I could explain myself a bit. In some cases, like the doctor’s office, or maybe vacuuming my rug, I would like a robot better than a person. The robot wouldn’t be looking at his watch, or thinking about his 50,000 other patients, or putting senior citizens *sans * appointment in front of me just because they were old (has happened).
Any machine that tells me what to do better have a case hardened titanium battery cover or a blue twisted teel power cord because I am pulling the plug pronto.