My Own Personal Draco Malfoy

I am easy to get along with. I have a good sense of humor and feel at ease with just about everyone. I’m not the type to have an archenemy.

That being said, I absolutely despise one of my coworkers. We’ll call her Brenda--that’s not her real name, but it’s a name I’ve had an unnatural bias against my whole life, so it fits her.

On my very first day of work, I was a scared twenty-one-year-old intern starting a career filled mostly with people twice my age. I remember walking into the auditorium for orientation, not knowing a soul, and faltering, having to master the impulse to run away.

Then Brenda turned in her seat and smiled at me. A friendly face! I immediately moved toward her and took the seat at her side. We commenced conversation, finding out that we were both new grads beginning the internship for the Emergency Department. I relaxed, believing I had found my best friend at work right from the get-go.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

Almost immediately, Brenda took a controlling air with me, sort of steering me. It was always “We’re going to lunch here tomorrow and I’m going to drive” instead of “What do you think about this place to eat? Do you want to drive or should I?” At first, that was fine by me. I was the baby of the ER interns and didn’t really care where we went--I just wanted to fit in smoothly.

As we started the classroom part of the internship, it became apparent that Brenda’s critical care knowledge fell quite a bit below everyone else’s. She was struggling in class and attempted to cover this up by causing other diversions--namely, creating situations in which she could get the ER educator fired. She succeeded, by the way, at the end of the internship.

I thrived in the classroom setting as I always have (because I am a big-time school nerd) and was offended by her attempts to overthrow our educator. Then I watched as Brenda prodded a failing marriage into complete demise for no other reason than enjoying the drama. I started to withdraw, befriending the interns from the other hospital that Brenda looked down upon, but not yet moving from my coveted seat beside Brenda.

The final straw came as we reached the halfway mark through our classes. We had a thirty minute lunch break, as we always did, and Brenda decided she wanted to go to the Black-Eyed Pea instead of eating at one of the hospital cafeterias. I feebly pointed out that this was a bad idea. It’d take ten minutes to drive over there, ten minutes to get seated and order, and then we’d have ten minutes to drive back and walk to the classroom.

Stupidly, I went along with her and the other interns from our hospital anyway. When it was discovered that the Black-Eyed Pea would in fact not be able to serve us in under three minutes, Brenda threw a full-out tantrum and demanded to speak to the manager to have our waitress fired. I was horrified. Why would someone in the service industry turn on someone else in the service industry? Didn’t she realize we might be in similar situations as that waitress in just two short months?

I hastily scribbled a note apologizing to the waitress for the scene and stuck it under my plate as we left. However, Brenda had not been appeased by the manager’s apologies and would not be satisfied until all our money had been refunded. She went back to our table to retrieve receipts and found my unfortunate note.

She was livid. She screamed and yelled and didn’t even look like a person. Her rage transformed her into a scary demon-monster. Completely taken aback, I just stared at her, unable to speak.

(Incidentally, the only other time I have ever eaten at the Black-Eyed Pea was a couple weeks ago, right before I went to the TCU-SMU game in which TCU performed so appallingly. Never eating there again.)

We arrived back at class (twenty minutes late) and I sat on the opposite side of the class, among the “enemy”--the interns from the other hospital. Every now and then, that hospital calls my hospital about transfers they are sending to us, and they always ask to speak to me, to ask me if The Bitch has been fired yet. It always puts a smile on my face.

From that day on, Brenda and I have been archenemies. She has made so many shifts miserable for me, and more than once, I have considered leaving. Right before she was fired, the educator from my internship told me to hang in there, that eventually people at my hospital would realize what a horrible conniving bitch Brenda was. Over the course of my first year, I thought she was wrong, because no one else seemed to notice.

Until now. Rumors are currently flying through the ER about the alleged affair between Brenda and another employee. Other nurses have noticed her complete lack of knowledge and inability to deal with complex patients. Hell, she can’t even start her own IVs. A group of nurses has spoken with our manager on more than one occasion about Brenda’s ineptitude--and I had nothing to do with it. I have just been sitting back and biding my time through all of this.

So, joke’s on you, Brenda. Unless I’m much mistaken, you won’t be around for much longer.

Ah, victory is sweet.

Some Open Letters

Dear Dallas PD,

First I would like to thank you for all you do for the city of Dallas. Also, I really love that you send officers to chill in the waiting room where I work, because lord knows the waiting room gets scary at times.

I just have a small bone to pick with you--the speed traps you have set up along 635. I have enjoyed my commute home at speeds of approximately 80 miles per hour for over a year now, and now you set up speed traps? I’m afraid it’s too late for me to adjust my routine, so the speed traps have got to go.

Do you know what it’s like to have to drive on 635 every day?? Actually, you probably do, so kindly show me some empathy.

Thanks,
The Speeding Black Blur of Mazda 626

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Dear Dallas Commuters/Drivers,

WHAT THE CRAP IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?! DID YOU GET YOUR DRIVER’S LICENSES OUT OF CRACKER JACK BOXES??

Pardon me. All I wanted to say was that I would really appreciate it if you began using blinkers, noticed when my blinker is on, and for the love of god, stopped driving less than 70 mph in the far left lane.

Oh, and repeat after me: Rubbernecking is for morons. I know that the maintenance trucks parked on the side of the road have orange flashy lights, but it’s really unnecessary to stare at them and cause ten miles worth of traffic to slow to a 30 mph crawl.

Cordially,
The Irate Woman Shaking Her Fists At You

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Dear Manager at Work,

No offense, but I think you’re crazy. There are a million things wrong with our department, and the project you are highlighting this month is forcing us to send thank-you cards to patients?! I don’t know how everyone else feels, but I personally would feel slightly creeped out if I got a thank-you card from my ER nurse. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to write in these things.

Dear Patient,
I know you were in intense pain and probably don’t remember me, but thank you for choosing to come to our ER.
P.S. I was the one with the needle giving you a shot in your arse.

Do you think maybe next month we could work on something that really matters and will help us better save people’s lives? Oh, and please stop harping on me about tardies. I commute on 635 to get to work and I can’t help it. I am addressing the problem, though, and expect a positive response from DPD and the other Dallas commuters.

Sincerely,
Lowly Peon on the Work Totem Pole

Whirlwind Weekend

My emotions have been all over the place this week.

Obviously the Hurricane Katrina disaster was horrifying to watch unfold. As flood victims poured into Dallas, the area emergency rooms were...well, flooded, to use a really awful pun.

(Quick background tidbit: I’m an emergency room nurse in Dallas.)

Taking care of the evacuees was heart-wrenching at times. Other times, I delighted in getting to meet so many people from a unique place. I’ve never visited the city before (and guess I won’t be any time in the near future), and I discovered that New Orleans must’ve been an interesting place.

A couple of my patients were Spanish-speaking only, and I usually manage to communicate appropriately with my college Spanish skillz. However, instead of “gracias” for thank you, New Orleans Hispanics say the French “mercí” which amused me to no end. Are you still supposed to say “de nada” when they say “mercí”? I don’t know how to say “you’re welcome” in French. The mixed French-Spanish accent was fascinating to me, and I tried (unsuccessfully) to pick it up.

Friday, I made an error in judgment which possibly cost a patient his life and at the very least, his legs. I sank into a mini-depression briefly, emerging today after I realized that in truth, I didn’t do anything wrong. I reviewed the chart on Saturday, and by the books, I made no errors. My only error was not trusting my gut, something that doesn’t translate into the chart and more importantly, something that probably wouldn't have saved his legs anyway. I tend to want to take responsibility for everything, but I’m forcing myself to acknowledge that I am not responsible for what happened. Truly, the hurricane is responsible. I just feel sad about it because the family was so nice to me in the face of their awful tragedy.

On a side note, the patients with the nice families always seem to have the bad outcomes. The bitchy psychotic patients always pull through, though. What the hell?

(So my emotions over the span of two days so far were down-up-down-moderate...are you keeping track?)

I started my Saturday shift gleefully, having watched TCU defeat OU. I’m the only TCU grad in an ER full of OU grads and supporters, so I basked in the glory for quite some time.

And then Saturday’s shift kicked my ass. So that was another up-down.

To add to this bipolar weekend, I’m spending my Sunday evening at a fancy dinner with my boyfriend’s parents. I can’t think of a surer way than that to produce yet more ambivalent emotions.