Thursday, January 24, 2013

I came THIS CLOSE



to just quitting my job today. To just shutting it down, and not doing that again.



Oh, I couldn't do it without Paul's blessing, because it would leave him supporting us by himself while I find out what the HELL I'm supposed to be doing instead of this piss-ant, mind-numbing BULLSHIT of a "career."

So what's the big deal that would make today any different? I've been working REALLY hard on psyching myself into the job before my shifts, praying for good work and concentration, that I'd do it well even if I usually hate it. Today I start my shift by checking to see if any of my work has been graded. It's been nothing all month, but I know last week I cranked out 400 lines in some hours, 536 in one hour, averaging about 350 lph. I was proud of my effort. But my scores.... sheesh! I got a 91, a 94, a 95, some 97s. That's like, firing scores. I may not have to quit. I think this rather sardonically and then (discouraged and a little pissed off at myself, because many of these were editing errors that I missed myself) fire up my first report. And it's some mushmouthed, bored, monotonous, jackass of a physician who only gives about 0.5% more of a damn about this report than I do. I had like a total panic attack, pushed myself through the first half, cried during dinner, BEGGED Paul to consider just letting me QUIT. To which I know he would have LOVED to say yes, but first we MUST reach the milestone of paying the house off. So he just held me and I whined and moaned, then I took a little tiny Xanax and went back to work. It didn't make the physicians any better but took the edge off the hysteria, and I made it through the night.

Holy hell...wtf am I going to do? I have to find some way to put my entrepreneurial spirit to work really fast, because as a "transcriptionist" --no no, we've now been renamed "medical language specialists," or MLS's for short (OMG somebody SHOOT me if I another acronym attaches itself to my ass) my give-a-fuck is officially BUSTED.

Is what I'm sayin.

Peace y'all....and in the absence of peace, Xanax.

1 comment:

  1. Let's hear it for benzodiazepines! I hardly ever make it through a day without 'em, myself. Hang in there, Tam. I think the people who know what they want to be when they grow up are exceptions to the rule. Most of us have no clue and still have a few things we'd like to give a whirl even up to our last day. However, the frustration of being stuck in a got-ya-comin-and-goin situation is not unique. We've all been there. (BTW, I just got an e-mail from my supe with the "weekly metrics" for our team. She actually told us that we needed to pick up the lines-per-hour rate in order to comply with company quantity requirements, but we needed to slow down to comply with company quality requirements. I adore my boss, and I know this contradictory statement was generated at management levels well above hers, but still, as you say, WTF?)

    When it's time, it will be easy as exhaling, and if you don't mind, I will just anticipate that it will be SOOOO GOOD!!!!

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