I printed some great ones out from the American Diabetes Association website and started making copies. That is, until I heard an incredibly annoying sound.
“KE-VIIIIN!!!”
I ignored her.
“KEEEEEEEE-VIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!! ARE YOU BUSY?!!”
Ugh. I hated when she yells down the hall. I mean, seriously? How unprofessional. We each have a phone and an intercom system where we can call each other.
That’s Judy. She’s the coordinator here. Although she doesn’t seem to be coordinating much around this office. She spends her time counting the people that we see daily, ordering supplies, and checking her emails. And let’s not forget the cigarette breaks every hour.
I walked back to my office and buzzed her just to make a point.
“Were you yelling for me?”
“Yeah, Kevin. Are you busy?”
“I was just making some copies of my handouts.”
“Can you put that on hold and help me with the classes?”
These classes Judy “coordinated” were not hard to coordinate. You see, when families come to pick up vouchers they need nutrition education. We figured the best way to do this was showing a video (made by me) in a classroom. While the video played, Judy printed the vouchers.
The only problem is, our coordinator panics under pressure. And apparently our coordinator is under pressure with five people in the classroom.
I sighed. “Sure, I’ll help.”
The classes went off without a hitch. As expected.
As soon as I was done with the last class, I headed to my office for a sip of water. Suddenly I heard a short ring.
I was being buzzed. I glanced at the phone and realized it was the extension from the nurses’ office.
“Hey Kevin, it’s Gina. I just wanted to let you know that Wendy just dropped a couple of charts in the door.”
“Thanks, Gina. I’ll be there in a minute.”
When I first started here, there were three nurses and myself. They stuck me in this closet space as my office. No literally, it was a closet. I wouldn’t consider myself high maintenance, but I explained to them that there was no way I can work in this “office.”
It was true. I needed to shut the door for privacy, but once I did there was no room. And ninety-eight percent of the time, the mom brought a couple of kids. I found myself cutting visits really short because everyone was uncomfortable.
I didn’t think it was very fair, so I spoke up.
Soon after, I was moved to my own real office. I love it, but the problem is that it is away from the nurses’ office. The charts are placed in a bin that is attached to their door, so I have no idea when they were ready.
I either have to keep getting up and checking or have someone check for me.
In the time that I’ve been here, one nurse quit, and the other got fired. Of course they didn’t replace them, so there is only one nurse and I. That made the workload much greater.
I walked to the nurses’ office and grabbed the next chart. I got the paperwork ready, and input the data that I would needed.
Next, I studied the name on the chart. I found out the hard way that you must always study the name. Once that door is open, you open the floor up for people to start bitching.
Looked like an easy one to pronounce.
I walked around the corner and opened the door.
“Shayna!” No one stood up. Everyone was staring at me though. Damnit.
“Shayna Fredricks?”
A girl that looked like she was about 17 stood up.
“It’s SHU-NYA.”
I glanced back down studying the name. Is it possible for your parents to spell your name wrong at birth? Or maybe she just made up her own pronunciation. Whatever.
“Ms. Fredricks, I’m gonna need you to step on the scale so we can get your weight.”
She rolled her eyes.
I waited. And waited.
“I weigh one sixty-five. I just went to the doctor.”
“Did your doctor give you a piece of paper to give us?”
I can tell what the answer was by the look on her face.
“Well ma’am, to get your vouchers we need to get your weight.”
Finally she stepped on with a huff. Wouldn’t that have been a lot quicker if she would have just stepped on in the first place?
I just don’t get it. She’s going to leave here with vouchers for free food. All she had to do was come to the clinic, get some measurements and some free counseling. I really don’t get it.
I wish we qualified for WIC. Unfortunately we fell in the bracket of “too much to qualify for aide, but not enough to live comfortably.” The glorious middle class.
I glanced up at Shu-nya and realized that I had spaced out.
“Now what you people gonna do to me? You wanna keep my baby after I have it too? Damn.”
That didn’t even deserve a response. Needless to say, I kept that visit short and sweet.
When I was done with Shu-nya, I placed the chart in my “go back” bin, and I went back to the nurses’ office to see what was left. There were about four charts in the door.
I grabbed one to get started on because I didn’t actually have any appointments with me until 4:00. That is, if they even showed up.
Well actually, I grabbed two that were held together with a rubber band. We call these “two-fers.” Not sure why, but one of my coworkers made the mistake by saying “double” and everyone flipped out.
We were a bit busy today, and I noticed that this family had been waiting for a while so I started rushing to get the charts ready. When I opened them, I noticed custody papers inside. Looks like dad has custody. I’m always interested in the back story. Sometimes I get it, and sometimes I don’t.
I input the information and highlighted the things I needed to address with them.
There was actually quite a bit that needed to be addressed. These were two twin girls, Chloe and Caylee that were going to be four in a couple of months.
They were both drinking way too much juice and soda but not enough water. Sometimes with this custody cases though, things weren’t very stable.
I quickly walked to the waiting room and yelled.
“Mclean!!”
