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Thursday, May 13, 2010

Where is my Job © Claudia Schlottman


The waiting is killing me.  I’m trying to be patient and act like an adult, but it gets harder every day.  I have a license to practice nursing.  (Aside to Clint:  I know how proud you would be).  There is supposed to be a job waiting for me at Hospice of Central Georgia, a job that was posted months ago and which no one wanted because it is a shitty job with lots of “as needed” and nights and weekends on call.  I am willing to take it, eager to take it so I can get my foot in the door.

I’ve done a preceptorship with Hospice, received my license, and the job has mysteriously disappeared from the Medical Center’s job site.  Every time I log on, I get this: 
Category: Nursing 
 Location: Hospice of Central Georgia (325) 
 Schedule: All 
 Results: 0 Job(s)
There are no positions at this time under this category. Please check back often as positions are added daily.

I have talked to Hospice management, and they have no clue as to the reason Human Resources took down the job.  They have assured me that they want me to take it and have even contacted HR with a request to repost the job so I can apply for it.  They have said on more than occasion that they want me to have the job so I can use it as a stepping stone to an inpatient job when the house is finished.

And here I sit, frustrated and suffering a dearth of original thinking and wanting to drink too much. Even my dogs are beginning to act depressed.  Depression is contagious, you know, especially to those who love us the most. 

I am depressed.  There.  I said it.  Well, as you all know, I am chronically depressed, but this is just more shit on the toilet paper.  I hate it, but I know how to deal with it.  I can’t go out and buy something because I don’t have a fucking job.  So, I’ll go grocery shopping and plan to meet the usual suspects at Bonehead Grill at 5.  I renamed the restaurant in honor of my wonderful and hardheaded friend, Loren.  He’s one of the usuals.

Yesterday, Frances, my sweet 82 year old friend, had to have her dog, Ollie, put to sleep.  I have been crying for her off and on since I learned of it.  I have been missing Clint so much that  got out the letter he kept on his bedside chest - the one I wrote to him on our 33rd wedding anniversary - and read it in a shower of tears.   I have been crying a lot about that, too.  All those memories still make me miss him more than they comfort me.  

Shit.  I’m going to get dressed and get out of here.  And I’m taking my dogs, too, so they won’t be so depressed.

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