Instead, almost a year later, I got hired at South Town Mall in the food court. Villa Pizza was my first real job. I made the minimum wage. It was terrible. It was hard work for practically nothing. I could work 12 hours and barely make 60 dollars. By the time taxes got through with my paycheck, it ended up being only about 54 dollars. My dad told me to be patient, that there would be another hospital cafeteria job hiring soon. There is high turnover in those areas. I worked at Villa Pizza for three long months. Cottonwood Hospital finally had another position open in the cafeteria. Again, I applied and got an interview. I was confident this time. I wanted the job badly. Luckily, I got it this time. I was able to leave that hell hole to a higher paying and hopefully slightly more gratifying job.
The company orientation was long and generally uneventful. I had never worked for the company before so I had to sit through a full ten hours of corporate jargon. The funny thing is, a woman who had known my dad recognized my name at the orientation. She was doing a presentation this day on company teamwork. During her presentation she mentioned my name and asked me in front of everyone if that was my dad. I said yes and she laughed. At the time it seemed innocuous since everyone knew my dad. 5 years later, this woman would recall that exact obscure situation and offer me a job at LDS ER the next day as my manager.
My first day wasn't what I thought it would be at all. I thought I was going to work in the cafeteria and just serve food. Instead, I had to work in the back and prepare patient meals. I wasn't ecstatic about that. I had asked to see if there was any way I could train out in the cafeteria any time soon. The answer was less than hopeful. I went back to helping prepare the meal trays. Then I got to do something that had surprised me. They said I had to go and deliver the trays to the patients. I was beside myself with surprise. Real contact with patients? This is more than I could have hoped for. I was nervous about it. I had not expected this. In the elevator I was going through how I would sound and try to act professional to my first patient. I was full of optimism and delight.
I was so happy, I was practically setting myself up for the downfall. My first patient would be the worst one. I knocked on the patients door and called out "Food service, may I come in?" I heard a faint "Yes." I walked in with a big cheasy grin on my face, just happy as can be to be there. When I finally saw the patient, who was an elderly old guy, I noticed he was frivolously masturbating in his bed. I dropped the food tray and stumbled backwards and yelled as loud as I could "Oh my God!" A nurse rushed into the room at the speed of light. She yelled "what's wrong?" and I pointed at the man covering my eyes trying to stumble backwards out of the room "That!" The nurse then proceeded to plead with the man as if this might have been an every day occurrence. "Sir put that away. That's not appropriate." The man pleaded back "But.....But" "No but's," replied the nurse "That's not appropriate, lets just put him away."
I finally manged to dramatically stumble out of the room. I was shocked halfway to Hell by this. But I decided to carry on anyway. I was only 16. How was I supposed to know that I might see that? Oddly enough, this did not deter me. I saw other patients that day, and they were all pretty nice for the most part. And when I say "I saw other patients," I really mean, I walked into their room and handed them their food tray and said enjoy. But I was excited just to be in the patient care setting.
I had an eventful three years there. It's all too much to go through in one blog. But most people wouldn't care to know half of it anyway. Failed work romances with a couple of co workers that had caused an excruciating amount of drama hell in my life. Crazy mischief that took place in the back with my friends (a few incidents almost cost me my job.). More crazy mischief that took place when I worked in the cafeteria or as a dietitian tech. Pager duels. The massive stealing of food from that place. My brief moments with getting drunk at parties and coming to work hungover. Occasionally smoking cigarettes with my friend on our lunch breaks. Pulling the girl out of the room who discovered the two dead bodies on the third floor (I didn't see anything, I just heard her scream. I reached in the room and pulled her out thinking she was in danger.) Getting written up the day after that for being in the background of a newscast regarding the double suicide (I was in the background open hand slapping my friends. It was a slap contest. Unfortunately my manager and a woman from human resources happened to be watching that newscast that night and recognized us. This was yet another incident by which I almost lost my job.)
I managed to get trained in the cafeteria eventually. Which was awful. I got yelled at by hospital employees all the time for supposedly overcharging them. Somehow they failed to realize in all the time working there, that hospital food is both mediocre and overpriced. It was easy work out there for the most part. Even when there was a rush it wasn't so bad. I still got to make myself a milkshake or any food I wanted. I had a habit of making smoothies that were surprisingly delicious. It's the one thing I miss about that place. Unlimited smoothies.
The top position besides dietitian or manager was the dietitian technician. It was the most patient focused for the department. You had to go visit patients before meals and basically take their orders. It was a glorified waiter job without tips. It did have its perks though. I at least got to see patients and shape up something almost resembling a bedside manner. I got to learn what certain equipment was and certain patient diseases. For a low entry job being in high school with no certifications, it was a pretty good gig to learn from. For the first time ever, I learned compassion for a nice stranger.
There is a patient I'll never forget who was at Cottonwood on the 5th floor (oncology/medicine). She was in her early 20's and losing the battle with cancer. I saw her every work day for 3 months. I didn't get to know her well, but I got to know her family and her condition eventually. Every time I went in there, she was always smiling and happy despite her dismal prognosis. She made me feel like I was actually helping her. Which even at the time seemed ridiculous. All I would do was take the order, chat for a few minutes, ask how she was doing and her family. But I felt like I was helping with this patient's well being. One day she passed away. I was really at a loss for words. Her obituary was posted on the floor and in our department. It was a happy but depressing obituary written by herself. She had realized her impending death was near and wrote an obituary that was not self-absorbed or overtly mopey about the life that was not fully lived. I remember reading it with tears almost welling in my eyes. I remember thinking to myself "All I wanted to do was help people. Why couldn't I have been in a better position to help her?" That was the moment I realized I truly belonged in medicine. In a real part of medicine. So I can really help people.
It wasn't long that I started to hate my job there. The supervisors were mean and literally stupid. My failed work romances created a personal hell I had not experienced before. I had little friends there as a result. I felt like I had outgrown the entry level job a long time ago and was ready for a real job that was more medically oriented. During my time working there, I had been in a band that was my pure focus. When that crumbled, I still had my job. I started to work at Local the music shop to help out there. (Again, completely different story.) I still could not commit myself to a medical career due to my intense fear of failure. I still clung to a career in music and told myself medicine was my "back-up plan." Sound reasoning right? Eventually, it came down me hating my job so much, that every day was a dread. I woke up fearing my day at work. I hated it there with an immense passion. It was time to move on. I applied to every job I could in a hospital setting, whether I was qualified or not. It was kind of a stupid thing to do, but surprisingly I still got interviews out of it. I interviewed for a variety of jobs at a ton of different hospitals. I was crushed when I didn't get the jobs I wanted. I was really bummed when I didn't get a job as an endoscopy tech at Cottonwood. I was so close to getting out of the job and they chose a return missionary instead. They had openly told me that was the only reason they chose him months down the road. My dad suggested I take a course on EKG's and I could be an EKG tech. I was willing to do anything. Luckily, my dad had an in once again. I got to take the class for free even though my current job had nothing to do with EKG's. After the course was done, I got an interview for a PRN EKG tech position at LDS Hospital. I thought I did well. They had checked my references and everything. My manager told me they got a call from that department and asked if I was going to leave if I got the job. I told them I had every intention of leaving if I got the job, even if it was just PRN. I ended up not getting the job. I was shocked and confused. I had no idea why that could be. Months later I found out they had intentionally sabotaged me because they didn't have the budget to hire someone to replace me at the time. This led to me hating my workplace that much more. (The EKG class did come in handy, I noticed V-tach on a tele monitor when there was no tech watching and notified a nurse. The patient died 10 minutes later. But it was something I would have never known had I not taken that course.)
For months I applied for everything under the sun. I went to 40+ interviews in 6 months. (That is no exaggeration. I have the emails to prove it. I have since had over 100 interviews. I have master the art at this point.) Things at work got progressively worse. More drama, more crap from ignorant supervisors and increased isolation. One day I reached my breaking point. My supervisor had accused me of being lazy after working 13 hours non stop in the dish room with no breaks. That is 13 straight hours of just washing dishes and cleaning pots and pans. The dish room was hot because the large dishwasher put off so much heat. It was a steam house. My supervisor said this to me and my friend Lincoln after she disappeared for 3 hours while still clocked in to go shopping at Target. I blew up and yelled back about how I was so sick of her shit and how awful the place was. I had full intentions of quitting the next day with a letter to human resources detailing the circumstances by which I quit. My friend Lincoln pulled me in close and whispered "Settled down. It's not like you to blow up like this. You're almost out of here. You can see the light. You will have a new job soon. You are so close. You're trying. I know you're trying. Stay cool." For some reason that calmed me down. I finished the shift and went home. I told my parents what had happened and they said they would support me until I got a new job. They were 100% behind me. I was so happy.
The next morning I got a phone call. I had just got offered a new job that I wanted.
