Monday, May 26

I Am Not A Nurse

My job sucks. You probably already know this. If you aren't someone I speak to everyday and regale with tales of the ridiculousness of my workplace, then you are in fact one of God's chosen people. Consider yourself lucky that you don't have to listen to me yammer on about the newest craptastic rule or unwritten rule they've instituted.

When I started in October, the uniform was black and white. Not black and white together, as in a pretty stripedy shirt or pretty polkadotty skirts. One article had to be black and one white (e.g., black pants, white shirt or white pants black shirt); you could have a little bit of a white tank or something hanging out from underneath a black shirt. That would be acceptable. A few weeks later, I came to work and the receptionist said, "Oh. Did I forget to tell you we're wearing all black now." Uh...yeah.

Lemme state for the record that matching blacks is my fashion nemesis. It is the bane of my existence. Besides, I promised myself I would never work somewhere that required me to wear all black. PSA: This does NOT make you fancy, people!! And...if you have product in your hair, as many women do at a salon, you will have flakes on your shirt! FAIL. So I had to go out and buy some black shirts, because I gave the majority of them away in protest. (Allow me to say that during this time I was wearing black shoes everyday until the first real cold day when I noticed everyone had on boots. We're allowed to wear green shoes if we want, but no black shirts with white trim. WTFH?) of June 1, we have to wear all white. Yes, you heard me right. All. White. Pants. Shirts. All. White.

I'm too pissed to keep writing.

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