Room Service

"Room Service"--the new patient food delivery system in the hospital where I work--can all too often be likened to Peace Negotiations. Only, the thing is, you're a pathetic little mouse marching alone into a frickin' army of starved alley cats and the only hidey-holes are big enough for a creature but half your size. Not only are the felines well equipped to tear you to shreds, but their allies (let's call them guard dogs) are also armed to the teeth. Granted, you'd think the mutts would be on your side as opposed to the cats', but they're not. Oh. And did I mention that you yourself are unarmed? What a dangerous world in which to be a mouse. *sigh* Yet, the negotiations must go on and, somehow, you learn to survive the ordeal with all your personal members intact. Or... mostly intact.

For the most part, though, "Room Service" really isn't that bad, despite my numerous declarations of "I hate this!!!" when we'd first transitioned back in May. It still isn't a glamorous job, nor one I would wish to have for any significant portion of my life, but it fills the gas tank and it's conveniently close. Therefore, I march on, however reluctantly, to face seemingly endless periods of catering to finicky patients and biting my tongue to keep from voicing my opinion of the apparent idiocy on the part of some of the nursing staff.

... did I mention that I agreed to work two shifts today? Ugh. I'm too nice sometimes...