In the Future I Will Write Something Beautiful
January 27, 2009 § 6 Comments
This whole day I sit at my desk near my direct supervisor. My direct supervisor is a radiologist who usually works in another building, the whole day she sat at a desk right next to me and discussed MRIs and Ultrasounds with a two man team from India, proper like Thompson and Tompson, and another man, another radiologist from the hospital.
Everyone but my direct supervisor has Indian accents. Both of the men directly from India have voices that are a bit deep. The other man, who is a radiologist at my hospital, has probably been here for some time. His voice is lighter and it sounds almost like trickling coconut water.
I work very hard and the whole time I think bizarre things like “At any moment my supervisor is going to start yelling at me.” I get tired from working with two hours remaining and start to pace myself to finish just at the end of the day. For a few moments I check my e-mail. I check a blog very quietly. I surf the hospital website, because that’s the only website I can be sure of. That morning I did not get much sleep. That morning I am very tired and at times even want to throw up because I only got three hours sleep the previous night. For some reason I was working even until four o’clock in the morning. I think about how that fact will go somewhere in my rebuttal, when I am thinking about how my direct supervisor might turn and yell at me, for no reason, at any moment. I think about all my rebuttals while I work as if we have history of yelling at each other and this is very bizarre and I wonder something along the lines of “This is weird, am I thinking of my parents?”
I don’t know exactly what that means.
I remember I felt like this in grade four. The last time I ever felt I was in danger of being yelled at, constantly, by someone who wasn’t my parents was in grade four, when I had a teacher who reminds me of my direct supervisor. I don’t think she ever yelled at me but she was tough with me because, truth to be told, I did not do my work. We were in a class that went up to grade six and I was in grade four and had never done any homework before and didn’t see the need to start until she started getting very frustrated and sent things like notes home to my parents to find the “book reports” I had “lost or forgot to bring into class” when really I just didn’t do them. I didn’t know what else to do so I told my mother they were somewhere in my bookshelf, because my bookshelf was a disaster, and she said we would look for them, and so we did for a while until it finally became clear that I was lying and she broke down and yelled at me in frustration, almost as if she were crying.
I can’t wait until this project is over.
I think for my next job I will work in a grocery store or somewhere else that doesn’t have any responsibilities at all, because I would like to save my anxieties for work that I am passionate about, not that I am complaining.