At the moment, I’m pretty chuffed with my fwend, Spiker. She’s only gone and got herself a job. OK, so granted she got the job around early December last year and it’s only taken her employers til around last week to finally give her the all clear to actually turn up for work but who cares, I now finally have a friend whose skills are being paid for in real money, rather than in cakes and cups of coffee.
Let me tell you a bit about Spiker. She’s my age-ish. Around 6 foot 9 with her CFM boots on. If you don’t know what CFM means, then I say hello and welcome to you because you must be a new reader. I like to imagine her spending her time dressed in jodhpurs and silky satin fitted blouses with her hair in a chignon and her stern glasses on, but I suspect many, many men spend their time imagining the same.
Spiker also has a collection of crazy pets which don’t appear to have been briefed appropriately on just how pets should function. She also holds a permanent car parking space in my drive and tolerates me when I insist of experimenting with colourful cocktails and does very well at not laughing at me when I fall over.
I said to Spiker a while back that she must write a post for my blog and the woman has done it.
There’s been a rumour going round that my job or rather my *job* is in a similar category to that of imaginary friends – that is, I’ve made it up and it doesn’t actually exist. And because the start date to my *job* has been put back, postponed and rearranged many times (which is what lead to the rumours starting in the first place), Sponge boldly promised me I could have a guest post on Sniff and Snort when it materialized – as a sort of celebration. As rash promises go, I think it was quite a good deal. I, in turn have promised to buy her some chips and gravy and possibly a drink involving something blue when I get my first paycheque.
I have now attended my *job* for a total of 6 whole days but a bit like calculating dog years, when you work in the NHS, 6 days seems a lot longer. It occurred to me that since both Sponge and I are trying to be proper grown ups with jobs, there ought to be a lot of similarities in what we are doing.
We’re both working really hard and making numerous decisions all day.
Both finishing each day exhausted.
We both work with great people who appreciate cake.
Sponge can actually see the progress she has made.
Sponge can use all of her time effectively.
Sponge does not have to play musical cars.
Let me explain musical cars to you: I work in a team which sees people both in the hospital and in their own homes. Our office is in the hospital but driving is essential to our work. There is a 10 year waiting list for a parking permit and all the roads surrounding the hospital have different residential parking restrictions. So I can park on one street till 10am, then I have to move for an hour. If I manage to park at the other end of the road I can park there for 2 hours but cannot return for 2 hours. If I fail to get a space there, I have little option but to park several miles away or try and get a space in the visitor’s car park which is pretty expensive. The afternoon is the same and so as we sit in the office our work is punctuated continuously with people suddenly realising the time and racing off to move their cars. Most of the staff have received fines at various times and this occurs when you are in the middle of an important phone call and you cannot drop everything to race off and move your car.
Something I will never cease to find hilarious is the look on the faces of people who have never worked for the NHS when they hear that this is how we work. Of course luckily for me, I know this great person who makes these treacle brownies which can make it all better (whilst knocking you out for much of the day).
Disclaimer: Spiker has not received monetary rewards for this post. In fact, she’s buying me chips & gravy when her first paycheque arrives.