Scrooge

When I decided to become a nurse, I had fantasies of grateful, smiling patients meekly following orders and willingly accepting treatments. When I saw myself in these daydreams, I had a chic ponytail, natural yet glow-y make-up, and spotless white uniform. Never, never did I imagine the horrors that awaited me.

I have worked for 3 different surgery centers. At each, the uniforms grew more horrid than the last. Whoever designs scrubs must also make kindergarten bulletin board materials! I have had jackets with dancing elephants, smiling toothbrushes, large animated numerals, but never the likes of what was "gifted" to our staff this year. We "girls" were given reindeer jackets with ATTACHED reindeer tails on the back and fabric surgical caps with ANTLERS sewn on! I am not joking!

When I announced that it would be a cold day in H-E-double hockey sticks before I'd wear that get-up, I was called a "scrooge". Well, so what?!? If being a scrooge means having a shred of dignity, then I suppose I'll be one. I was already wearing the singing butterfly jacket of Monday and you know... enough is ENOUGH! If you don't take a stand, well, the next thing you know it's pantyhose with Teeva sandals and jeans that come up to your nipples!

My reindeer jacket is being (sadly) returned. My boss says she is ordering me a Dr. Seuss scrooge jacket instead. Go ahead, I told her. I would not, could not wear that sh*t! I would, I should, I'd rather QUIT! So, next time your job seems bleak, at least be thankful that you aren't attired in a tap dancing doggy jacket with a Precious Moments cap on your head!

Merry F-ing Christmas, everyone!