Nurses Behaving Badly

As married as you want me to be Affairs at work are nothing new.Soap operas have produced decades worth of torturous feed from them.Witness them firsthand though, and it’s a bit different.В 

She was an unsubstantial student when we first crossed paths; twice a week Ellen would be on my floor and she’d go out of her way to get in people’s faces.Wanted to be remembered, obviously, in a bad economic time, so after graduation she’d get a head up on hiring.There wasn’t much to remember.Plain Jane white chick maybe about twenty-eight years old, white scrubs like all the other students, running around completing tasks.Every time she’d see me she went out of her way to say something, though each time I saw her was like the first- she just wasn’t memorable.

In June of last year she applied for a job on our floor.I remember the interview well.It was a group interview, all had been students of the same cla*s.All had done well in school.And all arrived to the interview with form hugging black split-skirt outfits.I recalled Plain Jane Ellen, didn’t remember the other two though they professed to know me.They’d be remembered now.

We hired all three. Whatever force had consumed Ellen during nursing school had changed. Gone was the Plain Jane.On came the makeup, the long lashes, hot pink nails, red lip gloss.Gone were the baggy white student scrubs; on were the tight low rise scrub bottoms and bust hugging tops.Many times I’d look up from my papers and there she was sitting and charting, with her low rise bottoms low and her thong up to her waist.If she’d been working at Victoria’s Secret she’d sell bras to the homeless.But this was an acute care hospital.As a manager I had to get that covered up.В 

At first she seemed good.The eager student had transformed into concerned nurse.If she didn’t know how to do something, she found out. And she seemed to get along with everyone.

They hate me because I'm pretty

Then it started.One day she ran into my office crying.«I’m trying to do the best I can,» she sobbed.Streaks of black ran through her mascara and puddled on her cheeks.«I just can’t do enough for Wanda. She’s so mean.»

Wanda.My old nemesis.Wanda was a middle aged nurse, just divorced, what, second time?Third?Wild black fuzzy mane of hair that frizzed out from her head and cascaded in a huge arc to a foot past her shoulders. Her speech was always muddled and unclear, like she wore ill fitting dentures.I got along with her fine at first, then later, not at all. Wanda seemed to enjoy being mean to people.

At first I was sympathetic.I hated Wanda too, and eventually we were able to fire her.Believe me if you aren’t loved by your managers, you’ll be doing something to get yourself fired.Every nurse does shit against policy, every day.

But it went on.Three times a day I could expect Ellen in the office crying.Each time someone had been mean to her: Wanda, the lab, radiology.Finally it came out: «They hate me because I’m pretty,» she blubbered.

Makeup and lashes Okay Ellen, wait one goddam moment.Your two coworkers, the ones we hired with you, are also pretty.One wears clothes like you; one appears to be more professional and wears sensible scrubs.I have no sputtering tear fests with them.And besides, I remember you when you were a student.You’re not pretty.You’re plain.What you are, is makeup and lashes.

After Wanda was fired, Ellen seemed to settle down.The economy was for shit and houses were cheap, so she and her husband bought another home, a big one, big yard, swimming pool.They moved into this mansion with their eight year old daughter.For a couple of months all she could talk about was this great place she was in now.

One day I came in to work and she was in the lounge.She’d been acting strange the past few days, which anyone who works with a large group of females can testify, is in itself not unusual.«I’m getting a divorce,» she blurted out.«I fell in love with someone else.»

Of course.Ha!Stupid girl, fell in love with your manager.Well, you’ll get over- «He works here,» she continued.«It’ll become pretty obvious soon enough.» Are we being too obvious

If I were a younger fool, I would probably actually think she were talking about me.However, age and years of women telling you to f**k off, have a way of educating even the most self-deceiving soul.I thought back to the weeks past, when I’d noticed something was a little off about Ellen.And not just the bawling.

I’d taken the stairs up to our floor.I always take the stairs because A) the elevators are filthy and full of dirty fingers pressing dirty buttons; B) the elevators are old, poorly maintained, and tend to stop for up to an hour between floors; and C) they’re always full of obese nurses from Labor and Delivery, one floor above mine.
They were acting like high school kids

Anyway I took the stairs to my floor and just inside the staircase were the pharmacist and Ellen.The pharmacist was a young, good looking Filipino guy.Friendly enough.Their body language was wrong though.I didn’t know what they were talking about but I could understand their bodies, and it was something intimate.I brushed it off.It didn’t concern me.

Within the next week, those two were walking the hallways like high school kids.Holding hands on the way to the lab.Nuzzling in front of the MRI building.Sam, the pharmacist, wasn’t married.But, he was in a long-term relationship and had just had a child with his girlfriend.The baby was a month old. Drama = Attention

Here it is a year later.Sam and Ellen went to Venice, took a gondola ride, he presented her with a ring and asked her to marry him.They’d had a big wedding, three hundred and some odd guests.Ellen sang a song to Sam during the reception.I heard her voice was magical.I wasn’t invited.В 

Thankfully, Ellen and all her drama transferred out of my department. She’s in ICU now and I hear she’s doing well.I don’t care.For my money she went from an eager student to a drama-intensive whiny vamp, something I do not need on my floor.Twelve nurses of varying abilities and personalities at one time is difficult enough; if I can rid myself of one of them then I’m that much in the black.Or less in the red.

So the other day I took the stairs up to my unit, and my secretary was there, just inside the stair door.One of the maintenance guys was there too.They were both somewhere in their thirties.He was married; she was a single mom.I don’t know what they were discussing, but their body language suggested it was something intimate.

Turning the Corner