That Was Quick

"That was quick!"
"What do you mean that was quick?"
"It was quick! In and out, just like that! In and out!"
"Piss off and fix me some coffee, will ya!"
—Interchange between Christine Painter (Julie Walters) and Rose (Victoria Hardcastle) in Terry Jones' 1987 film Personal Services

After a month-long vacation period of unemployment, I finally landed a job yesterday.  It happened in the blink of an eye.  I got a call from a recruiter whom I'd not heard from previously who had an urgent need for a desktop tech in a healthcare company.

Ugh. Not my first choice.

Even so, I met with the guy, and while I had some strong misgivings about returning to a hospital environment, the fact that the balance in my bank accounts were starting to cause some concern overrode it, I agreed to let him submit me for consideration.  Even I had to admit that on paper I was a perfect match for what they were looking for, so it came as no big surprise when he called back late yesterday afternoon to tell me that I had been hired without so much as an interview.  Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel!

This morning I was at the agreed-upon location at the agreed-upon time, but the account rep was nowhere to be seen and was not answering his cell.  Thankfully the email I received also included contact info for the I.T. Manager I'd be working for.  I called him, and he said he was unable to come down to the lobby to meet me; he would send one of the techs to get me set up with an access badge.

That was the first warning sign. The manager, whom the recruiter said I needed specifically to dress for ("wear a tie"), didn't even have time to come down to meet me.  I can't imagine my previous director ever acting so callously toward a new member of his team, even if he was only a contractor.

The tech (whom I wasn't even going to be working with) came down and escorted me through the labyrinthine maze to the underground materials management office, where I watched with no small amount of amusement while my badge was prepared.  Apparently the woman who made the badges had some moderate OCD going on, because every time her Outlook dinged, she stopped what she was working on to check on the incoming mail. "Squirrel!"

Second warning sign: instead of being taken upstairs to perhaps then meet the supervisor, I was immediately wisked out of the building to an adjacent facility where the deployment team that I was to be a part of was working.

Third warning sign: after being introduced to the project lead and the two techs, one of the techs immediately started ragging on the customers as well as management in regards to the project they were working on.

Now I'll be the first to admit that I've ragged about my previous job on many, many occasions—as long-time readers of this blog will attest.  But never in all those posts did I name the company or call out anyone specifically.  How did this guy know that I wouldn't immediately run back to the supervisor and report his toxic negativity?

There wasn't a lot I could do other than physically hook up PCs and do a bit of work on the patch panels as I did not yet have system account set up, but that was fine. (Not surprising considering the rapidity with which all this happened; I hadn't even completed the necessary hiring paperwork at the agency.)

But as the morning progressed, I became more and more despondent. That hospital smell, the prima-donna attitude of the nurses and doctors… I felt like I'd taken a huge step backward in my career, and I started contemplating my options. The angel on my right shoulder said, "Stay the week and see how it goes. It might get better." The devil on my left said, "Cut your losses and get the hell out of here now." Or maybe their roles were reversed.  I can never tell.

All I know is that practically from the get-go, this assignment just didn't "feel" right, and I was having flashbacks of a gig I did at St. Mary's Hospital in San Francisco about fifteen years ago. Then, as now, there was a reason they were willing to pay substantially more than similar jobs, and it wasn't because they were being generous.  It should've been the big red warning sign that tipped me off before I even got started.

I had hoped that a break for lunch would help clear my thoughts.  Instead, whoever it was on the left kept screaming: "Get the hell out of this place NOW."

I returned from lunch and called the lead tech, asking where she and the others were working. "Oh, I'm in the basement, but I have to go to a meeting in about two minutes. Call Matt (Mr. Negative) and find out where he wants you." She gave me his number and hung up.  I called Matt and got the "The number you have dialed is not in service," message.  I hung up and called the lead back.  It went immediately to her voice mail.

This was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.  I'd had enough. This was not the place for me, even on a short-term basis.

As I was walking back to my car, I called up the recruiter and told him I was terminating my as-yet-unsigned contract.  (Yeah, I still hadn't received the paperwork that was supposed to have been emailed to me by start of business today; yet another issue.)  I explained the situation and that I was leaving and would not be returning.

Needless to say, he was a little surprised.

My phone rang several times as I drove back home. (Sad that I'm starting to refer to the hotel as "home." Must be Stockholm Syndrome.)  I returned his calls about an hour later. This time he was not surprised so much as angry and demanding that I give him specific reasons why I couldn't continue on the contract.  Since I was the second guy in as many weeks that he'd sent over to this particular hospital who didn't work out, this was reflecting very badly on him.  I told him outright that maybe it wasn't the guys he was sending over, but the environment he was sending them into. "I have several guys over there who love it!" Yeah, several guys whose names he couldn't even recall. Real professional, this one.

And he wouldn't end the call, even after I admitted that it was probably my fault for accepting another job in healthcare when I shouldn't have.

What did I learn from this horrible day?  NO MORE HOSPITAL WORK…EVER.  If it comes down to it, I will sling Cappuccinos at Starbucks before I ever return to that environment.

Several years ago, when I was first transferred over to the health plan portion of the company I worked for, I resented it.  I'd been working at the hospital for five years and really enjoyed the fact that I'd whipped the technical environment and the expectations of my users into shape and that the workload was quite manageable. Plus, the health plan had a horrible reputation.

But after having been at the health plan only six months, I realized I did not miss the hospital environment one bit, and while I had a dozen or so users I would've gladly pushed off the roof, on the whole it was a much less stressful place to work.  As six months turned into two years and talk surfaced of reshuffling support staff among the facilities, I realized that if it meant going back to hospital work it would be the impetus that would finally force me to quit.

So we're no better or worse off than we were yesterday at this time.  I know Ben's a little disappointed that he may have to use his next student loan disbursement to keep a roof over our heads instead of buying a new toy he's been lusting after, but as he said, "your sanity is more important than any job."

And as if to tell me things are never as bad as they seem, I got a call from the headhunter who sent me to that disastrous interview telling me that I (duh!) did not make the cut. I told him I was surprised to be hearing from him considering how poorly I did at that interview.  "Don't worry," he said, "everyone has bad interviews and as long as you come away from them learning something, it's all good.  And by the way, we have quite a few openings coming up soon at [insert healthcare company name] if you're interested."  "I've been rethinking healthcare," I said. "Heathcare insurance, or healthcare corporate office support is fine, but NO hospitals!" He laughed and said he'd make a note of it, and just to be clear, the jobs coming available would actually be in the corporate office. No hospital work required.