It's the small stuff

I usually drive to work but due to an ice-related car accident, I am now enjoying all the fruitful joy that is the NJ Transit system. It's so nice not having to drive, just traveling slowly through Manhattan early in the morning, soaking in all that the city has to offer. Ah, is that urine I smell? Oh look, it's coming from that questionably alive guy slumped over in the corner there. Or perhaps it's that mystery smell that seems to linger in New Yorkers' hair and clothing for much longer than would be deemed acceptable.

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Wait a minute, did I actually say that I was enjoying taking the train to the train to the bus to work? No. Not when it takes me 2 1/2 hours to get there. Not when the bus stops at every. single. fucking. stop. And you start to question if having a job and making money is really all that worth it anyway. I should just develop [more of] a drinking problem, never wash my hair and become a hipster or an arteest or something that would give me a good excuse to sleep til three and chain smoke all night.



Here's a tip: try at all costs to avoid getting stuck in the elevator at my work. It goes at the rate of 0.0000000001 mph, so you might falsely think you are stuck. Also the heavy AC blowing at you from above does not help to warm your fingers and toes from the FREEZING WEATHER OUTSIDE. But mostly, don't get stuck in the elevator, like a couple of old ladies did today, because we will leave you in there for over 30 minutes, while my manager is feigning concern while reading her latest issue of People or Parenting Magazine or Jersey Weekly or whatever she pretends is the stuff that she's actually supposed to be reading. Also, don't call the office to ask if we can call the fire department, because my manager will flat out say "no" and dial 6 numbers on her phone and talk to the dead air.

In fact, I haven't quite figured out what she exactly does do. There's a large stack of charts on her desk, all from post-op surgery patients, waiting to be sent to insurance companies. Some of them are from December, she told me as she was haphazardly rummaging through them for a lost chart the other day. We are horrendously understaffed, and we're all dying as we are juggling going through charts and answering the incessant phones and talking to patients about "omg i might be dying! oh wait it was just gas," and she wanders about all day saying things she thinks are hip and cool like "wuzzup."

One thing I have figured out though, is that people are out of shape. With the elevator broken, people actually had to walk. Up stairs. Not an escalator. Everyone comes into the office, grabbing for air like one would grab Hennessey while looting a liquor store in Detroit, collapsing onto the front desk, and almost fainting when we tell them they have to exert themselves once more: to fill out some paperwork.

things i have learned so far working at a doctor's office

1. Most people want whatever the fuck they want RIGHT NOW. It's irrelevant that the phones are ringing off the hook and there are 394082735934897 charts that I have to go through which are all patients that have records dating back to like 1982, and you're asking me to ship your whole damn chart across the country for no reason, but you want it done today. RIGHT NOW. In fact, you want me to tell you over the phone when i will complete this task. I'll let you know, I'm not going to do it RIGHT NOW.

2. Some people are just straight up crazy. Also, i do not understand how/why these crazy people have children.

3. Kids are not really that bad. That being said, OMG YOUR KID NEEDS TO STFU HOW ABOUT SOME DISCIPLINE ONCE IN AWHILE. I could rant on about the various monsters that come and go through my office, but I won't. Maybe another day.

4. I really do not like looking at pictures of someone's inner ear. I work at an Ear, Nose and Throat doctor and I have yet to get used to the spiraly, waxy, hairy insides of old man ear. It always pops up when you're least expecting it too, rummaging through someone's chart and BAM there it is. The throat is not much better.

5. Girls here are not like California girls. They are loud. They have fake nails. They cannot properly pronounce the word "drawer."

6. I get the feeling that I've learned nothing yet.