I was called out to work last night around 9:30. Nothing odd about that – it is my weekend to be on-call. I put on a shirt and tie, drove to the office, and pulled the ‘company car’ out of the garage. I had been dispatched to the local Emergency Room. I pulled up in front of the hospital and rolled my cot into the hallway in the ER.
“Can I help you?” said a nurse.
“Yes,” I replied, “I’m from [funeral home], and I’m here to pick-up Mrs. Smith.”
By this point, the attending doctor and nursing coordinator stuck their heads from out of their office and gave me an odd, what-the-heck-are-you-doing-here look.
The nurse returned. “I’m sorry, sir, but there is no one here by that name that…um…requires your services.”
As the nursing coordinator was making phone calls to see if I was needed in another section of the hospital, I decided to call headquarters to see if I was even at the correct hospital. Oops. I should have been dispatched to the hospital one town over. I ventured back to the company car and I was on my way.
My job is not time critical. A few hours isn’t going to make things too difficult. But seeing how it was getting late in the evening I decided to make haste in my travel. When I’m driving the company car I tend to drive like I have diplomatic immunity. Come on, who’s going to pull me over? After making terrific time, I calmly walked into the Emergency Room of the correct hospital like nothing was wrong at all.
All in an evening’s work…
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For a complete archive of Andrew’s bloggings, please visit http://wasptiger.livejournal.com/
1 comment:
Glad to see you making the switch to Blogger. You'll like it! :)
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