Crappy.Dental.Assistant., C.D.A.

there are many things on my bucket list, oddly enough staring up people's nostrils while bits of their teeth fly into mine isn't one of them.

i have been moonlighting as a dental assistant (the non-certified kind) for the last three weeks, a blip on the CV really, it wouldn't even qualify as a "special skill"- unlike 'injecting insulin into an agitated rat terrier twice a day'- and i have found that it's a bit like making chicken stir fry; i can manage it, and it's o.k., but there's nothing that spectacular about my performance.

granted, as an assistant you do get an aerial, front row seat to exciting procedures like extractions, so it comes in handy that osha requires face masks, because there is no poker face happening once a tooth has been drilled open for air. the gross stuff aside, my own personal anxiety comes with the responsibility of spit sucker management; are they going to choke and drown if i let things pool too much, or are they going to choke and gag if i go in for a sweep? and how much pooling is too much pooling? how deep do i sweep? it's a lot of pressure, and i don't want them to hate me, they could bite my finger.

it's also a bit like being back in french class, except instead of conjugating verbs, there is a whole new lexical set to remember- quickly. because dentistry has an extensive collection of 'pokey things', all with very arbitrary monikers; "please pass the plastic instrument" (except that it's actually made of metal and looks pretty much like every other one of the double sided pokers in the cassette). dental schools may have been teaching it their way for years, but as far as i'm concerned the drill bits* are now; 'christmas tree', 'matchstick', 'microphone', and 'arrowhead'.

~ "pass me the diamond burr".

~ "is that the one that looks like a terra cotta plant pot or the latte mug with no handle?"

it's not all bad, i've learned a lot; hot tooth shards smell like corn chips; young women need to be vigilant about examining their chin and upper lip areas for hair; there is nothing worse than a roving tongue; i would much rather wear my pyjamas to bed, than get up and wear them to work. and ultimately, any job description that involves cleaning up after other people's messes and "vacuuming" is something that i've had a lot of practice with.

* burrs.

not your average tea party

jfk airport, downtown la jolla, the midway at the kentucky state fair, and any street corner in gatlinburg, tennessee are guaranteed to provide more people watching opportunities than a wal-mart in any one of 'the lower 48', at 9 o'clock on a saturday night.

the yankee dental conference in boston has now made it into the top ten, displacing the american art therapy association's annual artsy fartsy-fest of hand crafted ostrich egg earings, swoopy skirts, navajo scarves, open toed leather sandals and freud. my former, orally fixated, chalk pastel wielding colleagues cannot hold a burnt umber crayon to a convention centre packed with dental experts and their assorted paraprofessionals.

sir richard attenborough would have 6 weeks worth of BBC programming just focused on identifying the various species roaming the flourescent lit savannah. the "doctor" is quickly spotted in both manifestations; "designer-suit-and-tie" or "middle-aged-pot-belly-and-leather-jacket". the "hygienist" and "assistant" are unable to camouflage themselves due to a distinctive coach purse tail feather. administrative professionals, like the doctors, fall into two subtypes, one is actually not too dissimilar to the "hygienist" (subtract a decade and a high school diploma) versus the "middle aged matriarch in a muu-muu". thankfully, colour coded ID badges remove the guess work on anything too ambiguous. the remaining space is heavily populated with sales people sporting both "anne" and "calvin", hawking their blinged out forceps (extracting a wisdom tooth could never be so 'studio 51'), x-ray equipment and cabinetry systems more costly than bmw's latest leather lined offering. the sounds of the temperature controlled market are replete, not with "cheap rolex, best price, nice quality", but pleas to "never let a patient leave your chair without a hot towel" (note: they smell exactly like the ones handed out on planes right around the time airlines started to do away with peanuts).

the plaque and periodontally obsessed are also able to choose from purple impression trays versus a more whimsical lime green, dental chairs that can do reflexology during a root canal, and gloves that meet both the universal precaution standard and accessorize with this season's scrub colours. and should choices be so overwhelming as to send vendees into a weakened state, trolleys of free doughnuts are wheeled by every three minutes in order to facilitate the decision making process. in fact, conference attendees typically sport more freebie bags than the guy sleeping under the overpass near balboa park.

fortunately there are extracurricular distractions provided for those (spouses) not terribly interested in third molars and gingivitis; all day tours of neiman-marcus, tai chi, and booths brimming with jewelry, purses, pashminas and fur coats- presumably to co-ordinate with marital gold card.

me! me! pick me!

dearest, and most skinny and svelte looking in your dry clean only ann taylor scrubs, admissions committee for the accelerated bachelor's of science in nursing, program;

please consider this, my run-on sentence letter of intent and personal discourse on the many, many qualities that i bring to the pool of teachers, firemen, computer geeks, and med school drop out applicants-- least of which is the "D" i got in GCSE biology, although that was the british curriculum, and you have no idea what it means, so please disregard that statement, but do note that i chose the human science over nerdy physics or 'too many acronyms to learn in the periodic table chemistry' options. and, if it comes down to me and a perimenopausal dance instructor from bangor, then it would behoove you to remember that a truly diverse cohort would include an african-american-blue-eyed-blonde-alien, who has lived in 7 countries (many, third world) before turning 16, who has a british accent- and not one of those unintelligible david beckham varieties, but something with a bit of class and polish.

while i have accumulated a pick 'n mix selection of degrees and certificates (i could teach aerobics; to children; with mental health issues; that do not speak english; waxing poetic about the abstract expressionist movement; while scuba diving), my desire to change careers (once again), in third-life, is brought on by fruitless efforts to obtain any form of employment that pays the equivalent of our equal opportunity friends who greet bargain seekers at wal-mart. unfortunately, my parents were the type who left it up to me to find something that "made me happy", and did not feel the need to coerce and threaten me into a career as a brain surgeon or barrister-- unlike my now, gainfully employed peers (with pushy parents). ideally, i would like to make my living by writing the next new york times bestseller, however, this also falls under the "do what makes you happy/feel fulfilled/unable to contribute to your 401k every month" category, and as evidenced by the teeny-tiny readership on my blog, i'm more likely to join oprah's book club than to feature in it.

in addition to being prepared for the grueling, 13 month, lecture/quiz/clinicals schedule (i trained for a marathon you know), i would like to assure you that i am also extremely comfortable with bodily functions-- faeces and flatulence being a particular area of interest-- where references (from the lunchtable and other random co-workers) to support this, are available upon request. i am also chronically co-dependent, an obvious pre-requisite to bum wiping and catheter insertion, and there are several ex-boyfriends who would be more than happy for me to type a letter for them confirming this.

finally, i am excited at the prospect of wearing scrubs every day, although i must confess to being a little wary about turning into "puffy and matronly nurse", however, i would also like to assure you, dear 'still winsome and willow committee', that my long term career goal is not to become "giggling, vacuous airhead nurse looking for a daddy figure doctor to have an affair with".

i already have one.


sincerely,

the 1-out-of-300-for-30-spots-that-you-choose.

cornhole

i had such high hopes- all of my adolescent giggling and tittering at the noun (verb?). and yet, the all american game of 2007 (and 8) has become the non-fat venti-oversized-purse-and-sunglasses-wearing-wii-playing fad. i should be grateful that i was able to take the hour and a half sanctioned lunch break for a "cook out and cornhole tourney" function at work today. many are less fortunate, and have to endure sara lee frozen bagels and john conti coffee sponsored meetings.

it was a jackson 5 soundtrack special.

i still hate cornhole. i think it is dumb, and for grown-ups who are too inebriated to walk in a straight line, but secretly like appetizers that are "infused" with garlic pesto a la mode on a souffle of redneck tourrine.

(i would far rather play twister).

the definition of insanity

this morning there were more graduate and post-graduate degrees gathered around a king arthur sized conference table to discuss the implications of MRSA. this is a highly contagious and transmittable illness with more consonants than a polish dictionary. for the super nerds http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Methicillin-resistant_Staphylococcus_aureus will give you as much information as it takes to learn how to pronounce the bloody word.

our job, as supervisors/RN's/medical directors/OT's/respiratory therapists was to figure out a way to ensure that direct care staff were following our tediously scripted and re-scripted policies and procedures regarding handwashing and wearing PPE (personal protective "equipment", more commonly recognized as "gloves" and "gowns").

"well, over on our residential house we tend to have a lot of ringworm, lice, scabies, runny noses and leaky bottoms" (i talk to keep myself awake).

president of QI for the agency: "so when YOU wipe a resident's nose, you obviously go and wash your hands right away."

"uhm. well, how am i supposed to build up any immunity to bacteria if i do that?"

little love bites

i really should know better than to bend over in a low cut blouse to give an excitable 3 year old a growling bear hug right before he heads off to lunch. apparently he thought my chest was a good place to take a bite out of.

he left teeth marks on my skin-- and there really isn't an awful lot of subcutaneous cleavage fat to clamp down on.

satisfactory performance

i have a chronic case of childhood onset, rose tinted myopia. in my nascent career as a middle manager with staff to supervise, i have maintained the elementary school belief that if we all just work hard and get along, there will be enough time left over for pranks and fart jokes. 6 months in, and i just had the working stiff's equivalent of laser eye surgery, manifested in the 'internal recruitment process'.

the employer's version of the grade school report card defines "S" as; treading water for multiple sets of 365 days. it appears that in this disgruntled, 'take it (all) to judge judy' era, minimum effort from the worker equals maximum "loyalty" from the agency.

the writing is on the wall (and it's the same size as the top letter on that bloody eye exam); tenure has taken away (my) right to choose.

health fair and benefits enrollment for dummies

the insurance fair buffet; long-term, short-term, life, accident, health, vision, dental (3 kinds), cancer, hand surgery, laser eye surgery, flexible spending, and retirement. i informed the HR officer that i was no "sickie" and to please put my name down for the cheap 'i only go to the yukky doctor once a year, and maybe i should look into finding a good dermatologist' plan.

health fairs are a great opportunity to beef up every employee's pen collection. they also help to expand the office toy menagerie of really useless stuff, like the squishy toy designed to combat work related stress. this years offering was brought to us by 401k retirement plans; a foam brain stamped with their logo, which is quite fortunate because i personally feel the impulse to crush or throw something whenever i browse the literature, obviously written for (and by) someone with a phd in accounting. there is a grant funded study out there somewhere with my name all over it; tracking the high correlation between job retention and complexity of retirement plans. of course i will never complete it because it would involve using statistics and i am incapable of crunching any number over two digits. as i have changed jobs (again) i am also required to navigate my way through and sign several reams of paper before faxing them off to some company in oregon to complete a roll over (and die) of my retirement. perhaps the representative doing blood pressure checks (their booth always seems to be located by the door anyway) should do a pre and posttest service for all staff.

finally, the best of the freebies is usually the abundance of food at these events; today, the muffin and coffee stash was seriously depleted while the pears, granola bars, and apple juice were at overstocked 'depression era' levels. however, conveniantly located next to the carbohydrate addict's nightmare were two middle aged nurses manning the body mass index/body fat composition and pulse oximetry screening table. these ladies were definitley scoring above the 32nd percentile. they convinced me to take the test, which i passed with flying colours.


(i waited to eat my muffin until after they had given me my score).

extreme makeover; office edition

the feng shui of your breeze blocked office, porta-cabin, or halogen lit cubicle can either draw or repel co-workers, in much the same way that strong body odour and a needy personality will.

for the 8 hours of keyboard sweat expended in a work day, it is important to have a visual reminder to "self", and "others" of the outside work "you". office interior 'design' functions as the self actualized, adolescent exterior 'design'. the key being a balance between individuality and professional cookie cutter (obsessive troll collectors and menopausal women with a dolphin "thing" are to be avoided at the watercooler). go into any school, commercial, or government building, and in addition to the OSHA posters about handwashing and TB, you will find the; over achieving, credential obsessed nerd dusting their many framed diplomas; the under achieving dropout who has wallpapered every surface with agency letterheaded "employee of the month", "on the spot award(s) for biggest kiss up", "most productive employee" (who can smoke the most during smoke break) certifcates; the hippy appalachian trail hiker, with african/south american/any third world country, tribal masks artfully hung; the obese matriarch, or chronic co-dependent, who always has a fully stocked jar of hershey's kisses; the "policy and procedure manual with cardboard boxes of PR pamphlets and brochures spilling onto the floor" employee who doesn't even have time to put a framed picture of their dog dressed up as santa on their desk; the "tear off barnes & noble calendars of garfield and the cartoon granny who wears sunglasses and a hat" and insists on telling you, every day, the accompanying quip du jour.

i was recently initiated into the 'forwarding of filth fold' by co-workers, perhaps it was "odd squad" card of a diahrea filled goldfish bowl that i have tacked to my corkboard that tipped them off?

no man is an island: "the office"

as with neighbours, siblings and parents, you cannot escape co-workers. if you want to be able to pay your mortgage, cell phone bill, or outstanding tab at thoroughbred lounges I through V (a local chain of southend louisville strip clubs) then they become part of the daily vocational gauntlet.

workmates generally comprise a cluedo (US trans: "clue") cast of characters. professor plum is typified in the paternal and somewhat aged hippie colleague, generally owning a sweater collection that rivals mr rogers' and a sense of humour that combines large quantities of cheese with that of an 8 year old schoolboy. miss scarlett is characterized by the the office slut bag; the one who is bar/bed hopping, and her sentences over utilize "i" statements. colonel mustard is usually located somewhere in upper management and likes to crunch numbers and send emails about productivity. he will create hours of power point presentations to demonstrate the implementation of new policies and procedures that will yield increased performance improvement and customer satisfaction to bore you silly at quarterly review meetings. finally, there is an unspoken magnetic pull that draws the mrs peacock's to come and fuss over the state of your cold/love life, or just tell you about her varicose vein related problems.

i can generally be found; in the break room, with miss scarlett, smiling and nodding about the intricacies of her latest paramour, while imagining a candlestick piercing through her carotid.



* these are based on true stories and real people.
** i am not miss scarlett.
*** well, maybe mrs peacock.

job description

my supervisor handed me a copy of my job description yesterday. technically i have two jobs; 'clinical specialist' and 'program supervisor', this is perfect as i am wholly under the delusion that i have superior multi tasking skills; until i attempt to accomplish and complete an actual task.

once again, i feel as if i have been handed a ziploc bag (not even a boxed set) of jigsaw puzzle pieces (the jumbo, supersize, family version of 5,000 pieces, each the size of an m&m). the picture is of baked beans. at night.

i have at least located the 4 corners and all the edges; my office has been located, i have identified my phone (what i actually do with it beyond that i have no bloody clue, however i have no doubt there is a 35 page policy and procedure operations manual close to hand), i have an ID badge to get me into the building (and also differentiate me from the teenage girls wandering up and down the hall), and scattered pens and a notepad in a haphazard "gosh, i'm super busy, productive middle management with important things like meetings, with people who wear suits and ties, to attend" formation.

today i was ushered onto the unit/house in a state of considerable emergency by one of the residential counselors and her young charge. it would appear there was an insect in his bedroom (he was wailing and quite distressed, the RC looked like she was on the verge too). my 2 years of graduate study only involved cutting and pasting papers together and chapter skimming, fortunately my roomate at the time had acute insect-o-phobia and i was responsible for the extinguishing of any uninvited houseguests (except her mooching boyfriend) of the hard shelled, scuttling variety. i have no idea the breed of the beastie in little johnnie's room, but it reeked of the cockroach genum (genus? phylum? all those years sitting in bilogy certainly paid off), it was also of the 'size of a small child's bedroom slipper' phloem (?), and had tentacles and antenna. fortunately the underside of my flip flop provided sufficient squash, crunch 'n drag to exterminate the blighter.

perhaps i should start wearing a cape to work?

orientation

i peed in a cup, was told how to wash my hands, and instructed not to play with anyone's blood or faeces, all completed while signing a dozen forms that i prmoised to work hard, be on time, use ethical standards and best practices, and to never, ever use scotch tape in the building (the ceo has a thing about scotch tape). i was not going to school, jail, or being interviewed by INS; today was "orientation".

corporate compliance and quality improvement absorbed most of the afternoon, where we picked at our muffins and watched videos on how to avoid back injuries at work- "plan your move before you lift that ream of copier paper"- and circled quizzes to test our knowledge base of the policies and procedures: if someone throws up do you a) go play in it and try to make little figures and animals to distract the client from their distress? b) point and laugh, they have to toughen up and maybe NEXT time they'll learn to get to a bathroom a bit quicker, or c) run gagging, out of the room, hand clapped firmly over mouth while trying not to slip and slide in the hazardous waste?

in conclusion, we were told that we are on the front lines for catching flu, chicken pox, TB, lice and ringworm. i'm already a step ahead on this one, i just noticed a new little crop on my hand that never went away from my last fungal infection.

management

today saw my first unofficial day back in the workforce, shadowing the woman i will be replacing. i am back to an office (with a window), computer, and voicemail to return. here is what i found out:

- i will be signing off on staff who request time off (that's pretty important and powerful right there!).

- i will have a tax exempt number and a credit card to go shopping at least one a month for supplies. this usually means clothes that the kids need (they each have a monthly budget from the state), and because these are the teeny, tiny tots, i get to prowl around all the dinky baby, flowery, winnie the poohey, thomas the tank enginey cuteness of it all (oh, my ovaries are groaning at the prospect).

- i will be keeping tabs on tardies, and have to give written and verbal warnings to those that are late (they have a rather space age hand print clocking into work system).

- i get paid to shop! (that one bore repeating).

now if i can just get over my chronic need to be liked by everyone...

a (blow) job well done

i have been a long time critic of leaf blowers, it is my belief that they are contributing to obesity in this country. elbow grease is a thing to be replaced by 'above the elbow fat jiggle'. today i blew. and blew, and blew, and blew. the pig in bricks would not have survived my obsessive blowing.

there is a significant amount of power put out by these little horticultural machines, my fingers were going into cramp just gripping the handles. i am surprised dorothy and toto didnt fly out of the swirling mass of leaves, grass and other backyard debris. no wonder you see overweight retirees wielding leaf blowers in small town usa-ville neighborhoods near you.

working 9 to 5

whether i want to or not, the universe appears to be insisting that it is time to "grow up". i think im ok with that. sort of.

i have been offered the position as clinical director for a crisis/residential facility for the zero to fives. i will carry a small caseload (how much "so tell me about your relationship with your crackhead mother?" can you really do with an 18 month old?) 50% of the time, and the remainder will be spent sitting at my desk blogging, checking email, i mean, supervising the staff (my staff!). this is the piece i am having difficulty processing. "supervising" "my staff". i am used to being the entry level subordinate with the supersize caseload. as a child, i was extremely bossy, not that my younger brother, or anyone else, paid too much attention. i am used to people not listening to me. now people are going to be paid to do what i tell them.

however, this is the year that i started a vanguard retirement plan so that i would have more than $200 a month to splurge on some super absorbency depends when im old and crusty. i also put money in a mutual fund (i'm still not entirely sure what this is, but i just "did what [i] was told"). and last year i got a new car; it has power windows, no rust, and one of those key clicky thingies to unlock the doors (the true litmus test of adulthood is being able to unlock your car from the entrance of target, or while youre ensconced in your bathroom reading the newspaper). before i know it, i'll be getting mammograms, worrying about osteoperosis and buying matching pink and lime green, spring flowered outfits at chico's.

the methadone clinic sounded fun, but not a "career move". i hope this doesnt mean i have to put on make up and iron clothes before i go to work.

"you saucy wench!"

thus spake my interviewer during my grilling for a 'counselor' position at the methadone clinic (one of two in this fine state). "mr personality" did not disappoint his initial telephone persona, as he also appeared to have a differential diagnosis of ADD and Tourette's. his stream of concsiousness was a constant flow of diaharea, self-interuption, and self commentary with virtually no self censorship. it was truly fascinating. i was addicted by the end. he had arabic money pinned to his corkboard (i saw this as a "sign" and will be bringing him a bahraini dinar to add to his collection when i return for my SECOND INTERVIEW NEXT WEEK! boo-yeahhh...or however that's spelled).

several minutes after he lapsed into anglo pirate mode, he said he had all manner of 'britishisms' he wanted to try out on me, but he could feel an impending lawsuit. he then asked me who my favourite superhero was. [who to choose? who to choose?] "captain caveman!" [if he's going to give me a random question, he's going to get a random answer], he was delighted and tickled, and went off on another tangent. he dropped the f-bomb (my second during an interview this week) with little self regulation. perhaps this is what comes from working with what he referred to as the "red haired child of mental health and addictions". after sitting in the waiting room, i think it would be more akin to the "mute, red haired, red neck, white trash, missing a limb, strange avacado shaped growth on the side of the face, with a stinking case of full body psoariasis" population.

i could totally see myself working there.

31 flavours of job

i am running out of "interview wear". i have talked about my strengths, weaknesses, inside leg measurement, and goals for the future; to sit on my laurels on a porch sipping peach tea, reading a book, while a yellow lab named homer (the iliad and the odyssey, not simpson) and/or small blonde child (also mine) will be tripping over each other, gnawing on pieces of furniture. thank god the temperature has increased and i can now utilize my "summer interview" collection.

i have applied for everything from the 'single scoop chocolate chip in a cup' (social worker at nursing home) to the 'pistachio orange sherbert milkshake' (on call every other weekend, drive all over bluegrass country, triage kids into hospital case manager position). i am in search of the chocolate fudge brownie with hot fudge sauce and whipped cream (no cherries). i think this may in fact be the private contract job ($60 an hour baby! finally all that bloody school will pay off). this was the interview where my interviewer swore like a sailor (it was in relation to paperwork). i have done interviews in my pyjamas (a phone interview), run the gauntlet of a panel of middle aged suits machine gun firing questions at me. i am ready to make a choice, of course i need to be offered something to choose from first (nothing with strawberry or marshmallow fluff).

tomorrow i interview with "mr personality"; he said he would hire me just based on my name. this position requires i be present from 5am to 1pm, the chemically dependent population are notorious for sleeping their days away, unfortunately my days of doing the same are now numbered. if i do in fact secure this job solely because my name has more consonants and syllables than a small welsh town, this will be the first and last time the director will see me wearing makeup and flat ironed hair. i may even start wearing pyjamas to work.

the group interview

there is nothing like the anxiety created by 10-12 humans firing questions at you in rapid succession. my group interview resembled a cluedo cast of characters; "professor plum" complete with cheesy jokes and bad puns; "miss scarlett", young, cute and vibrant before burnout increases her bum size and demotivates her from make up and dry cleaned suits every day; the maternal "mrs peacock", smiling reassuringly while asking easy questions. thankfully there were no candlesticks, or even a rope to hang myself with.

the feng shui was "drill & grill"; tables were configured in a "U" shape and i foolishly joked/asked where the chair in the centre was. one of the ID badge wearing head honchos from corporate office obliged and created a hotseat. the predictable result of my chronic problem of opening my mouth and not locating the "for god's sake, shut up!" valve.

interviewer # 7: "why do you want to come and work with us rather than go back to your old company?"
me: [deer in headlights, shit, the truth? or the interview response?] "my former place of employ was the "wal-mart of mental health", and i am ready for something smaller where i can be more focused on a higher level of quality client care" (titter, titter). they asked what their agency would be, we debated this like old friends for a while and surmised target.

interviewer # 3: "where do you see yourself in 5 years?"
me: "lying on a beach in the bahamas".

interviewer # 5: "what are your weaknesses?"
me: "books and chocolate".

interviewer # 7: "how do you handle conflict?"
me: "i had a co-worker who must have been breast fed until he was 10, and was really perfecting the art of learned helplessness. after addressing it with him and seeing no changes i spoke with my supervisor".

smartass points: 8/10
foreign appeal & intellectual sounding accent: 9/10 (the director was a transplanted scot)
probability of securing this job: hmmmm?

hello! my name is...

interviews are the first dates of the workforce. the cuticle tearing nerves, the rehearsal of strengths (superior organizational skills) and weaknesses (chocolate and books), agonizing over the wardrobe and finally selecting something from the crushed and over stuffed 'barely ever worn' end near the wall. on a side note, i would be a terrible drug rep due to the amount of time spent commuting to and from the dry cleaners for the ann taylor/banana republic uniform of the pharmaceutical goddess.

seeing your date/interviewer walking towards you generally coincides with the realization that your cuticles are bleeding, and the the new outbreak of ringworm is in the middle of your "hello, pleased to meet you" shaking hand.

and then the lying begins. "yes, i left my last position because i was seeking more challenging opportunities" (I was sick to death of being in something that resembled a domestic violence relationship with my former employer), "NASCAR? i never miss an event, it's like going to church, oh, youre an atheist?" the desperate need to be liked and impress, to hide and cover up, and much of the time you don't know if you even want a job or kiss at the end of your performance, but at least they could try to grope you in the car or schedule a second interview. the charade is over in 45 minutes or dinner and a movie; once you secure the title of star employee or girlfriend, the cargo pants and flip flops become mon-fri work attire and the bathroom door is left open no matter what you're doing in there.

curriculum vitae

once again i find myself gainfully unemployed (watch the ringworm make a comeback now i have no health insurance), and have been trawling the various on-line job sites, and pimping out my friends for connections. my cv clearly outlines what i am trained to do; be an art therapist, teach english as a second language, teach aerobics. furthermore, it even specifies that i can teach exercise (and english) to children, assess all types of mental illness found in the DSM IV, facilitate groups, individual and family therapy sessions, formulate treatment plans, and get my documentation done on time. i did not include the skills of being able to fart around on the internet between appointments.

i am currently struggling to make sense of the lexical set involved with career building. attending medical school, flight school or law school equates to becoming a plastic surgeon, fighter pilot or judge. the only career titles that i recognize any more are "nurse" and physical therapist", everything else is an ambiguous code of nouns and adjectives (and i enjoy being verbose).

prospective employees are now referred to as "specialists", "technicians", "developers", "direct respondents", "representatives", "officers", "chiefs", "field consultants", and "incumbents". they must have "black belts" in "monitoring" and "co-ordinating" "multiple activities" and "performance", "enforcing" more daily management "activities" in order to "drive performance goals" to "maintain efficiency". they must "motivate" to ensure that "predetermined productivity and quality standards" are "achieved" or "exceeded". finally they must use their "strong leadership" and "detail oriented communication skills" to "modify" all "policies and procedures" and other "compliance" related phenomenon dedicated to "internal and external customer satisfaction", all of whom have "diversified portfolios".

the plasma centre needs a "location supervisor"...