How dare you judge me, Seattle? Who the hell do you think you are.
So, dear reader, since moving to this rainy city I have started to feel…uncool. While in NYC, I lived a cosmopolitan life with nice lunches, late nights and occasionally throwing up out the side of a cab. It was very Sex and the City. And yet here I am, in a city where everyone smells like weed and dirt and people find it acceptable to go to the grocery store in their pajamas, and I feel like I am being judge. NO SEATTLE!! It is I who will judge you.
I realized all these emotions rather early in the morning as I attended a staff meeting. As I walked through a side door into the hall, every eye turned to me. Their faces read “who is this girl and why should I care”.
But I looked awesome, wearing my little paper booties and my frog hat to go with my crisp blue scrubs. I had on amazing eye make-up, I had the fresh scent of a recent shower combined with a daily deodorant application. My eyebrows were waxed to perfection (as was my upper lip). As always, I exuded a confidence that was second only to Angelina Jolie. I was hot shit! Men wanted to be with me and women wanted to be me.
So why then were these filthy hippies looking at me like I was trash? I thought briefly that it could be because I an new, that I was misinterpreting their their curiosity as hostility. But then, I found myself crossing my arms in silent hate-judgement of them. I went so far as to uncross those same arms so I could jot down notes to myself about some of the cartoonishly awful faces that were looking at me.
1st- Gay Santa. No. Really. This man, who seemed to be a ring leader of this goon squad, was about 350lbs and change. Big fluffy grey beard…wait…did i type fluffy? I meant filthy…filthy grey beard…like imagine if you used a nice white towel to dust off some charcoal, and then fashioned that used towel to a fat man’s face. Done. “Well sure”, you say that makes him Santa, but what makes him gay. Good question reader. He was wearing rainbow socks. Nope, not gay enough…He was wearing long, dangly, silver earrings in each ear. Still not gay enough. People called him Beth. BINGO! Nailed IT! Okay, you got me. I thought they were calling him Beth, and when I heard it, I tried so hard to stifle my laugh that I silently farted. His name was not Beth, it was Biff…but I am not convinced that is any better.
2nd- Retard Presenter A. Last week, we were shown a video on some OR procedural crap to not leave shit inside of people blah blah blah. Well, the video had no sound, they could not figure out how to get sound and thusly abandoned the video. This week, they thought ‘hmmm…let’s try this again, only, let us not change a single thing about the set-up of this lap top and projector, but cross our fingers real hard’. Go figure, the video still did not have sound. So this presenter decides to talk us through the video, describing what was happening like the worst DVD commentary ever made. Again, maybe you doubt my choice of adjectives…but do not. Retard is appropriate. The video was 14 minutes long. And this video starred 4 nurses who were sitting at the staff meeting.
3rd- Retard Presenter B. A second presentation was also to take place this rainy morning. It was again, about not killing patients, etc. It was a pretty simple report and consisted of 3 power point slides. Yet somehow, in comedic tragedy, the presenter did not know how to use powerpoint. I mean, sure, she put the slides together and edited them and added a background and even learned how to cut/paste pictures into this thing…but did you expect her to practice toggling between THREE WHOLE SLIDES before she stood up in front a group of 120 of her peers? If you think it would detract from the presentation by accidentally closing PP twice, skipping over the middle slide numerous times and not knowing how to make it full screen, you would be so fucking wrong…
So, I left that staff meeting with a big arrogant smile on my pretty waxed face knowing that no one knows how to judge some one like I can.