Job (dis)Orientations

A while ago, I used to work in a nursing home in Salt Lake City. I won’t use its name in order to protect the idiots (I mean innocents). I worked night shift, and unfortunately, anything official needs to be done during the day (or my night). So it was no surprise to me that the “new hire” orientation was held during the day from 8am until 5 pm. I put off going until, about a year after I started work, the nursing supervisor threatened me with suspension. Begrudgingly, I went.

Of course, the orientation was held the morning after I had just worked an entire shift. So at 6:30 in the morning, after a night of caring for cranky, sick, gassy, elderly folks, I finally got off of work and hung out in the parking lot, smoking cigarettes and drinking pot after pot of coffee until 8:00, when I made my way up to the stuffy, cramped room (that smelled vaguely of pooh and disinfectant) that would be my prison for the next eight hours.

There were about 15 other people in the room with me when in walked the first “instructor” with a bounce in her step, a huge smile on her face, and a way too cheery “Hi! How is everyone today?” My first thought: you don’t want to be here any more than we do, so drop the bulls**t “it’s a wonderful day in the neighborhood” crap and let’s get this over with. The next thing she said was, “Ok, let’s go around the room and you can all introduce yourself and tell us a little about yourself.” Really? You have got to be kidding me. Are we all going to be good buddies now? Can I come over to your house and play Twister with your sister? I didn’t think so.

And so begins the corporate orientation.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand the need for these orientations—to get information out to new employees about policies and procedures, chain of command, HIPPA and privacy laws (for us in medicine), house rules, appropriate attire, whose ass to kiss, etc. But come on, these mandatory meetings are lame enough as it is without having to have to play preposterous games like: “let’s break off into groups and come up with skits about how to talk to our clients. The group with the best skit will win a fun-size candy bar to share.” Or the ever popular: “Ok everyone, write down something interesting or unique about yourself, and then we’ll read them out loud and try to guess who wrote it. Won’t that be so much fun?” Oh yea, as fun as watching old people have sex. (See question #2 below.)

Someone once told me that the point of the horrible quizzes they give at random times throughout the orientation is to “make sure you’re paying attention”. Really???

Example #1
What should you use when attempting to put out a grease fire?
A – Water
B – Urine
C – A small bag of children’s Christmas toys
D – A class B, dry chemical, fire department inspected and approved fire extinguisher
E – All of the above
(The answer is D in case you’re retarded)

Example #2 (one of my personal favorites):
You’re working on the long-term elderly care ward and you walk into Mr. Harper’s room to find him having sex with his visiting wife. As the nurse in charge, what should you do?
A – Rush in at them with a bucket of cold water.
B – Take pictures and sell them to the pervert in room 203
C – Back out of the room, close the door and allow the patients their privacy.
D – Strip down and run in yelling “Threesome!”
E – All of the above
(The answer is C in case you’re a sick degenerate)

Really? You’re able to tell whether or not I was paying attention by how I answer these questions? ARE YOU STUPID? A blind, homeless alcoholic on a three-day bender who can’t read could answer these questions. WHY ARE YOU WASTING MY TIME?!? I could answer these questions while I’m in a coma. The only thing you can tell by me answering these questions is that I’m smarter than a hooker who has been dead for five days!

And now we finally come to the end of our little torture session. Its 5:05 p.m., you’ve got your stuff in your hand, ready to fly out the door as soon as the Director of Inhuman Resources finishes up his speech on “The Do’s and Don’ts of Sexual Harassment,” when he asks the question that you’ve been dreading since the beginning of this eight-hour snore fest: “Are there any questions?” Crap, here it comes. The waste of space on the front row shoots his hand up and says, “I have a question. At my last job…blah, blah, blah, yaadaa, yaadaa, yaadaa, blah, blah, blah. So does that mean I shouldn’t touch her breast?” HOLY S***!!! Are you serious? You slink back down into your seat as the instructor asks if any one can explain to Mr. Retarded why is not a good idea to just go around touching breasts when all of a sudden another chump in the front row decides to jump in and regale everyone with the story of how a long time ago someone touched her breast. This back and forth continues as you attempt to give yourself a concussion by slamming your head on the desk. Finally, after when seems like an eternity, the instructor says, “Well, we’d better end the meeting. Have a good day everyone and welcome to the company.” You’d swear he said, “Welcome to Hell.”

So to all you people who just have to ask stupid questions or have a cute little story that relates in some lame way to the meeting…SHUT THE HELL UP!!! No one cares about your damn stories. No one cares about what you did at your last pathetic job. And if your question is really that important, then go ask the instructor AFTER the meeting, because we all already know the answer and you might too if you weren’t such a NUMBNUTS.