So...
I've been back in Plano since Thursday night. The plane ride back was, thankfully, pretty uneventful.
Today I was supposed to ship out to South Carolina for another month directly supporting a hospital, but got the notice last night that plans have changed.
"Changed?" I asked.
"Yeah, we thought you'd appreciate being able to stay near home and take root, so we're sending someone else."
Well, even though I can't say I was jumping for joy at the concept, I also can't say I was disappointed to hear that. No risking my life in a heavy machine tens of thousands of feet in the air, no being asked to remove my shoes to make sure I'm not pulling a Richard Reid, no sitting in lonely hotel rooms...
"... and, starting Monday, we want to get you up to speed on the phones, so you'll be working lots of overtime."
Huh?
They want to put me on a regular 50-60-hour work week for the next few weeks, doing evenings Monday through Friday. What's worse is, Monday through Wednesday will all be 12-hour shifts (which I'd kinda prepared for) working noon to midnight (which I wasn't thrilled with). Thursday and Friday? Let's just say, so long three-day-weekend concept, which was the thing that originally attracted me to this position.
All this so I can work back-half nights to replace someone whose diabetes is making him too physically ill to work nights. Back-half means I'll be working Wednesday through Saturday nights, which means... so long, potential social life.
Why would you give a shift like that to someone who's looking to make friends in this area? Why would you effect so many changes on someone whose sleep cycle is already damaged enough without having to factor in constant time-zone changes?
It all had better be worth it. No one asked me my opinion on the matter.
