Epic Fail

Awhile back, I cleaned up my resume and went on a job search. Mostly for financial reasons. I needed to work full time, and it would be great to get benefits. Anyone who has had to buy their own health insurance will understand that; there is a definite discrimination against the self employed.

I wasn't specifically aiming for staying in the animal care industry as good pay and benefits are rarely part of the job, but I managed to hit pay dirt: I landed a job at another small animal practice, full time, benefits, with an offer of much better pay to do way less than what I was doing as an Office Manager for Boss Man. A much more technologically modern practice with upscale clientele. It appeared that the staff made a great team. Sounds perfect, right? NOT.

I've learned that getting what I wish for means I've shit in my own mess kit.

It's not hard to check clients and patients in and out. To put them in rooms, and weigh and temp the pets. However, I came from an old school pen and paper type of practice, and this one was run by computers with software that was temperamental and virus infested. I went from one doctor to having several doctors working at the same time. Doctors who kiss the clients butt and treat the staff like dirt. Like Multiple Personality Disorder. One who is such a nasty bastard I expected his head to start spinning and pea soup to start spewing out. I made sure to stand at enough of a distance not to get splattered.

Then there were the receptionists, my lovely coworkers. I was supposed to be in training but nobody wanted to train me. One of them said "If I have to train her, I'd have to talk to her, and I don't want to talk to her." Of course where I could hear it. Derogatory remarks were made about me in earshot. I was berated for not doing my job right. I was ubraided and berated in front of clients. Before my first paycheck (which I still don't have) the woman who hired me had sudden amnesia about the wage she had offered me.
By the end of the first week I had tremors in one of my hands. By the end of the third week, I was shaking at the thought of going to work. On my last day, I had a panic attack at work and had to go to Urgent Care to get sedation. The work supervisor called me later and told me "the only complaint I've heard about you is that they have to tell you things more than once" Ya think?! Then why didn't they fucking train me? and "If you're that unhappy, then it's best that you don't come back." Well, no shit.

I have worked some shitty jobs, but this has been the worst. I'm appalled at the behavior of these women. Who the hell raised them to be these kind of people? A pack of shit throwing monkeys raise their kids with better manners than that. If my own kids had ever treated another person like I was treated, I'd pick them up by their hair, even though they're grown and I'd have to stand on a ladder to do it. And since I didn't get the opportunity say what I wanted in person, I'll do so here:

I'm editing this out today. Time to let go and be grateful I'm gone from there, away from those toxic people and that hostile workplace. They belong together, and I've learned some good lessons from my thankfully short time there.