HR chimps in the zoo
I'm not sure today, why I'm thinking of this past August hospital occurrence. Well, maybe I do. I hope everything went fine, without a hitch.
There are only a few good rules to remember when you visit your H: Listen to your mom and wear clean knickers. Don't forget to bring along a good book. Above all else, remember the ebb and flow of your new hospital attire. There can often be much to view, as you carelessly stroll by. And always be prompt for your long awaited specialist appointment.
You soon find out though, that health specialists are a busy new breed, who sometimes can't always work to appointed time lines -- especially, when it comes to your appointment.
As I remember, such was the occasion back in the late summer period, as I patiently waited for an introductory meeting with my new Cardiac Doc. It was a hot, sticky August afternoon. Nothing, it seemed -- the air-conditioning and my heart, in particular -- was functioning properly that day.
Waiting uncomfortably in hospital corridors with your expanding bag of pills and new paperwork, can usually give you time to inwardly reflect about past events, that likely brought you to these crossroads in the first place. If you're of that particular ilk, then this is your great opportunity to look forward in Zen silence, at nothing more than fading lime green paint across the hallway.
Ummmmmmm.
Or what the hell, take this equal opportunity to chat up your nearby sick neighbour, who also seems to be inflicted with a similar bout of specialist delay. Given half the chance, I'm usually a Door Number Two kinda guy.
It's time then for me to now introduce you to a somewhat aging gent of my era, whom we'll call Ron (not his real name.)
Ron looked to be in his late-fifties, former mid-management stuff, the beaten down end-product of more than one white collar downsizing. Today, stress seems to ooze from all pores. He's now relegated to intermittent contract work. It soon became obvious, Ron was in a quiet slow-burn mode, with cause. Who could have blamed him?
Apparently, he was earlier driven from his place of employment with chest pains to the same emergency area as myself, four floors below us both. The next day, his boss suggested he take whatever time off to recover. Nice touch. A week later, he finds out that he's been docked one-and-a-half days of pay for not being at work!
It just got better. He reported, that he and his boss were even long time friends, which these days must place a whole new strain on the term: master-slave relationship.
I'm supportive of course, but inwardly gobsmacked. It's not always about the money. Surely, it can't be, between friends. But I'd be wrong in his case. He seemed more than a little disoriented, angry, anxious, yet strangely proud. Of relevance, he was now an unemployed contract worker, trying hard to still be positive about uncertain times ahead. Any concept of a happy early retirement, was the last thing on his mind that sweltering afternoon.
I think Ron was just glad for the opportunity to talk to someone of his age. In the waiting process, I quietly became a good listener, nodded frequently, and said to myself: This guy really deserves a brand new pump. And a break.
It's simply incredulous in 2006, that there are such well-intentioned employers abound, who still drag their HR knuckles, and think like chimps. Can you ever wonder these days, why it takes so long to see your cardiac specialist?
Unfortunately, I couldn't commiserate any longer. It was finally my turn to see The-Man.
I hope they looked after you OK, Ron. Maybe, we'll meet again soon in rehab.
There are only a few good rules to remember when you visit your H: Listen to your mom and wear clean knickers. Don't forget to bring along a good book. Above all else, remember the ebb and flow of your new hospital attire. There can often be much to view, as you carelessly stroll by. And always be prompt for your long awaited specialist appointment.
You soon find out though, that health specialists are a busy new breed, who sometimes can't always work to appointed time lines -- especially, when it comes to your appointment.
As I remember, such was the occasion back in the late summer period, as I patiently waited for an introductory meeting with my new Cardiac Doc. It was a hot, sticky August afternoon. Nothing, it seemed -- the air-conditioning and my heart, in particular -- was functioning properly that day.
Waiting uncomfortably in hospital corridors with your expanding bag of pills and new paperwork, can usually give you time to inwardly reflect about past events, that likely brought you to these crossroads in the first place. If you're of that particular ilk, then this is your great opportunity to look forward in Zen silence, at nothing more than fading lime green paint across the hallway.
Ummmmmmm.
Or what the hell, take this equal opportunity to chat up your nearby sick neighbour, who also seems to be inflicted with a similar bout of specialist delay. Given half the chance, I'm usually a Door Number Two kinda guy.
It's time then for me to now introduce you to a somewhat aging gent of my era, whom we'll call Ron (not his real name.)
Ron looked to be in his late-fifties, former mid-management stuff, the beaten down end-product of more than one white collar downsizing. Today, stress seems to ooze from all pores. He's now relegated to intermittent contract work. It soon became obvious, Ron was in a quiet slow-burn mode, with cause. Who could have blamed him?
Apparently, he was earlier driven from his place of employment with chest pains to the same emergency area as myself, four floors below us both. The next day, his boss suggested he take whatever time off to recover. Nice touch. A week later, he finds out that he's been docked one-and-a-half days of pay for not being at work!
It just got better. He reported, that he and his boss were even long time friends, which these days must place a whole new strain on the term: master-slave relationship.
I'm supportive of course, but inwardly gobsmacked. It's not always about the money. Surely, it can't be, between friends. But I'd be wrong in his case. He seemed more than a little disoriented, angry, anxious, yet strangely proud. Of relevance, he was now an unemployed contract worker, trying hard to still be positive about uncertain times ahead. Any concept of a happy early retirement, was the last thing on his mind that sweltering afternoon.
I think Ron was just glad for the opportunity to talk to someone of his age. In the waiting process, I quietly became a good listener, nodded frequently, and said to myself: This guy really deserves a brand new pump. And a break.
It's simply incredulous in 2006, that there are such well-intentioned employers abound, who still drag their HR knuckles, and think like chimps. Can you ever wonder these days, why it takes so long to see your cardiac specialist?
Unfortunately, I couldn't commiserate any longer. It was finally my turn to see The-Man.
I hope they looked after you OK, Ron. Maybe, we'll meet again soon in rehab.
posted by leisurelan at 3:30 PM
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