Sup, Ya'll

Um. I am sooooooooo bored. Totally totally totally bored. All-encompassingly bordorama-rific.
Yesterday I worked. I answered the phone several hundred times. I called considerably fewer people. I used to call a lot of people. Used to set up a lot of appointments, confirm appointments. Or appts, as I call them. My work shorthand sometimes tries to creep into my other types of writing. Well, actually just here. Since I really don't do a lot of other writing. Back to work. I typed dozens of messages. I talk to patients on the phone and I type messages to the nurses to call the patients back regarding this or that.
Usually they look like this: Dr soandso's rn:patient's blood pressure is high and or low and or he or she is experiencing chest pain, chest discomfort, jaw pain, high pulse, hard heart beat, rapid heart beat, etc. Or patient had labs done 5 minutes ago and is calling to find out if we have results yet. Or patient had labs done 6 weeks ago and never got results. Or had a test done and never got results. Or is returning a call from you. Or is returning a call from somebody but they don't know who it is. Or, mostly commonly, "my heart feels kinda funny, weird, I can't really explain it." There are a lot of things I put in quotes so as to make sure the rn knows that this is what the patient said, not something I would actually say. But a lot of times I just rewrite what they are complaining about more succinctly with an eye for efficiency and get-to-the-freakin'-pointedness. Which reminds me of a conversation I had recently about letters to the editor in newspapers.
I type about 50-100 of these sorts of messages a day. I am a very good little typist. When I first moved here I took a typing test a temp agency. It was the stupidest typing test I've EVER seen. It wouldn't allow you to double space after sentences so basically I had to modify how I type completely in order to take it. I still got about 75-80 wpm. I am much faster now. Since I type so many strange messages all day long. Many of them are the same but quite a few come straight out of the blue. And I have to type a lot of medication names like amiodarone and furosimide and aminophylline and metoprolol and isosorbide mononitrate and isosorbide dinitrate and the list goes on. Like the beat. So my stream of consciousness writing style is all the more perfected now that I can literally type as I think. For the most part. Which leads to stupid crap about my job. BUT! Someday I will read this and think, "oh yeah, that's what that job was like. Fancy that."

So that's what I did yesterday. And today. And Wednesday for that matter. And nothing really interesting happened at work. And nothing really interesting happened at home. And I started realizing.... slowly... that I am not in a play! And when I am in a play all I want to do is have one freaking hour at home when I can just sit around and watch TV or two freaking hours to go see a movie. Or five fucking hours to sleep in and play video games. But when the down time is sort of forced by not having much of a life it sure doesn't seem as great anymore. So it turns into doooown time. But I'm down with that. Yo.

I work in a tiny little box. Little boxes made of ticky tacky. It is actually a room, not a cubicle but it is really more of a walk in closet. With two people. One of those people isn't me. One of them is. Which makes for interesting conversation. Office pitter patter and jibber jabber. Constantly. Today, my cohort is taking a long lunch. Because I told her to. Because I am her pseudo-supervisor and I get to say things like, you have too much overtime, take a long lunch. Biotch. So I get a whole hour to myself. Alone. Answering phones and typing. I cherish this time so much. And yet I complain about spending too much time alone. Huh.

We have a new employee who I will be training on Tuesday. Today and Monday my boss is training him. He will come to me on Tuesday with a general awareness about the job but no real training. He is the husband of another coworker. He is one of 4 men who work in our office, not including the doctors. I worry about him assimilating. He was in the army for a long time. We'll see. I think I like him so far but it is going to me and him and my coworker in this tiny, literally (I measured, just now) 7ftx8ft room. Which makes for a very crowded stressful environment to try to train in. I feel for him.

My friend at work Marie invited me last weekend to go to Red Lobster for drinks and dinner and I did. I met her sister and some other people and they were really funny and fun. Just now, she walked in and invited me to a party she is having at her parent's house while they are away. So that's pretty cool. She said it is not a big party. They may play cards and may watch a movie or something. But Marie is kind of a drunk so I'm sure it will be an interesting "small get-together." I'm not sure for sure if I'll go but I probably will. Unless something else comes up between now and then. Which is possible. Marie reminds me of Sheila. A LOT. Mostly in the way that she has these weird boundaries but you give her one drink and she has NO boundaries at all. Sheila was like that. Probably still is. Oh Sheila. I miss you.