Thursday, July 28, 2011
Can I hear you say "MICRO"?
I was passed up not once, but TWICE for full-time hours that should have been mine due to seniority, and TWICE I had to train the person who they gave the hours to instead of me. I was suspended when I missed work because Aiden had pnemonia, and yes, I did have a doctor's note. I interviewed for countless other positions inside of the hospital, some of them I was more than qualified for, and it wasn't until I got a phone call from my now-boss, after an interview I had with him, that he had received a poor rating from my current manager that I realized why I was being passed up for these other positions.
So I fought fire with fire, I started reporting my micro-managing bitch of a boss for every wrong step she took, every time she made another employee cry (which was a weekly occurrence) and every time she put a toe out of line in regards to our code of ethics. For five years, I hated coming into work. I loved my job, I loved my coworkers, but being told every single day what a piece of shit you are, how worthless you are, that you don't know your own job; that wears on a person. But I FINALLY got out. I was offered a position in Materials Management, and Nutrition was more than happy to get rid of me, that they pretty much let me go without having to put in my two weeks.
Then a year and a half of bliss. I was trained in my job, I learned my job, I excelled at my job. My work was done in a timely manner, I was able to actually look forward to coming into work in the morning. I missed two days of work the first year that I was there, the first because Aiden had an ear infection, the second because I was throwing up and couldn't get out of bed. I loved it. I loved the freedom of having being given a task, allowed to complete that task without someone watching over me like a hawk, and then given feedback on that task. I constantly went above and beyond. I picked up overnight shifts, I picked up holidays, I actually laughed while I was at work.
Nine months ago, enter The 'Stache. Normally facial hair doesn't bother me, but this man... there are no words. I knew I didn't like him pretty much instantly. Over the last nine months any additional tasks that were mine have been taken away. My coworkers and I are being watched every step we take, and ordered around by a man who has no idea how to do my job. Today, he proceeded to approach me about adding some new product to the ICU, but came to me each time with only half of the information I needed, and still expected me to be able to do my job. When I offered a solution, I was shot down. My voice is no longer heard, and it no longer matters.
I know I'm not the only one in my department with these issues. We have employees that get away with doing little to nothing every day in the hopes that if they don't do it, someone else will, and we usually do. The more I do, the more I am then expected to do, but I'm not allowed to do it on my own, oh NO! I have to do it under the ever watchful eye of The 'Stache. Being told every step of the way that what I'm doing isn't right, this is how it needs to be done BECAUSE HE SAID SO.
I am at my wits end. I have gone to my director, who has done little to remedy the situation, and I think that my next step is going to be up a notch in the ladder of hierarchy. I hate that it has come to this.
I hate that my voice suddenly, once again, doesn't matter.