That’s my mantra for the day, along with “I don’t look good in day-glo orange.”
Needless to say, I’ve been a bundle of nerves for a while. Mondays are particularly bad.
The irritants – in no particular order:
The Loch Ness Monster has put in an appearance since I’ve seen Dr. Boss last. He hasn’t been answering any phone calls, pages, or emails. I may as well work for Big Foot.
I want to quit. There’s a letter of resignation on my desk, but the bureaucracy is holding up this plan. My salary is paid from a grant that Hospital X manages, but I work for the University. Human Resources at the U say that I’m supposed to talk to the Hospital, the Hospital refers me back to the U. They both suggest that I ask my boss. :rolleyes: (If there is a Big Foot and a UFO sighting before I see Dr. Boss again. I’ll stop going to work and they can track me down and fire my ass.)
I work with a great bunch of folks. They’re getting on my nerves at the moment. Most of them are amateur bicyclists. They train for races and discuss work out plans and diets. Weight has been a common topic recently, the lighter you are the faster you ride I guess. I get sick hearing about it and stopped eating lunch with them. (I really want lunch when the times comes. Sitting with people who are counting carbs and calories makes me feel like a pig.)
Also, there is sexism in this field. More women are entering medicine and biological academics, but the senior staffers are almost entirely male. Over the last couple of weeks, I have received comments about my weight. One was from someone who didn’t know that I was pregnant. Another was from a guy who warned me not to fall into the “Mommy Trap” and “let myself go.” Apparently, he has fallen into the Insensitive Prick Trap. :mad:
She’s 16, she’s quite, and I have no clue what to do with her. The Mouse House is on security alert (damn PETA and ALF) so I can’t take her on my rodent rounds. We’ve been going over how to use basic lab equipment: pipetters, centrifuges, etc. Today, I’ll ask around and see if anyone is doing something she can observe. Otherwise, the poor dear will have a very boring summer here.
Dontcha just love working in a frustrating environment that defies all expectation of disintegration and somehow, despite absurd bureaucratic mismanagement, somehow still manages to function?
You know, if you really want to get your boss to call you back, all you need to do is leave the following message (or something in the same spirit) on his voicemail:
“Oh god. Okay, um, this is Mouse_Maven, you know, down at the laaAAAAaab – no! Get away from that, it’s very unstable right now! – Uhhh, there’s been a little uh, accident here, and one of the staff … oh God … well, it happened so fast and aaAAAGGHHH!----” <click>
If you can inject a good quaver into your voice and have someone toss some metal trays and stuff around every few seconds while you’re on the phone, I guarantee you’ll hear from him before the Second Coming. When you do get that call, answer perfectly calmly as if nothing in the world is wrong. Deny knowledge of the message he refers to.
Funny you should mention that…there aren’t any athletes of that level here (that I know of), but most of the ladies are on some kind of diet. I’m one of the few who isn’t. Today, one of the youngest ones looked at my lunch (cold cut sandwich on whole grain, small serving of pretzels, and a regular Mountain Dew) and said “I just read this weekend that you put on, like, a pound with every soda.” I took a generous gulp of the Mountain Dew while glaring at her.
One day last week I decided to work through lunch; I actually enjoyed eating alone for a change.
A pound with every soda? 3500 calories?? That’s one big soda!!
I never understood why people care so much what other people are eating. Not idle “So, whatcha got for lunch today?” but criticizing and analyzing and all that crap. I figure as long as I don’t have to pay for it or cook it, I don’t care what you have.
Incidentally, Mouse, try leaving this message for Dr. Boss: “Hi, it’s me. Don’t worry, everything will be fine. I don’t think they’ll sue…”
Are you saying you want to quit immediately (or give 2 weeks notice), but you keep going to work because no one will accept your resignation? Hand deliver a copy of your letter to your HR rep and get him/her to sign a receipt for it. Do the same thing at Payroll. Mail a copy to the last known address of Dr. Boss. Stop going to work. Unless you’re laboring under some indentured servitude type of contract, you shouldn’t feel bound to keep coming in because no one will take responsibility for letting you quit.