I started a new job some weeks back. I'm finally in a job working Monday through Friday, day shift, with no on call, no weekends, no holidays, and actually encouraged to take off the day after Thanksgiving and the week between Christmas and New Year's.
Life is good.
You know, the biggest problem with working a "normal" job is figuring out what the heck to wear in the morning. I mean, thirty plus years of wearing scrubs makes one rather lazy about what one wears. It also limits one's wardrobe quite a bit. Keep in mind that the last year in my last job, I worked from home. Much of that time was spent in my pajamas. You get my meaning here? Mama had to go on a few buying trips to find some cute things to wear in the daylight, after all those nights working from home. Thank God, my dear husband doesn't mind his beloved shopping.
And so it was that I found myself standing in the closet this morning, trying to figure out what to wear to work. On a Thursday (translate: I haven't done laundry yet). Indiana weather is wonky at this time of year, and my office is like the frozen tundra -- though my office mate runs the space heater till it's nearly Aruba, so it's difficult to know how to dress. I wear layers. It's the only way to survive.
I stood there staring, knowing that I was going to wear a pair of chocolate brown pants, because it's fall, and it suits. I debated for a while, then chose a Tshirt I had bought to wear to the prison. In Kentucky. On a Saturday night. In Walmart. Yes, that was a moment in which my life morphed into a country music song. Don't judge. I debated about that Tshirt, bought in a moment of semi-desperation, because it is orange, and I worried it would clash with my cherry red hair. It also has red (my favorite color) and gold glitter. In other words, it was perfect for perking me up in the not-so-middle of a long work week, on a morning the puppy woke me up forty five minutes early, not so quietly expressing her displeasure about being in her crate and not being allowed out to empty her bladder. I grabbed it, showered and got dressed, kissed the hubby goodbye -- he muttered a buh-bye that was so quiet and gravelly that it was pretty creepy. I'm not convinced he was awake, which made it all the creepier. But I digress.
So I went to work and started my day by calling back my first patient. We sat down in my office, where she promptly exclaimed "you look AMAZING! That color is BEAUTIFUL on you." Keep in mind that I had never met this woman in my life, and here she is, loudly telling me how said orange color looks amazing with my hair and my coloring, and that I should wear that color all the time. Next thing you know, she asks if I have a smart phone. I pointed at it, plugged in to the charger on my desk. She unplugged it and said "I have to take a picture of you so you can see how pretty you look." She took a picture of me, then said "now, send that to your husband, with the caption 'beautiful.' "
I realized later that my phone had locked up -- it hasn't been the same since I dropped it smack into the dogs' water bowl -- and the picture was lost. That didn't stop me from smiling the rest of the day, when I thought of that sweet lady and her kind words, said with such enthusiasm. Happiness is contagious. Spread some.
I love my job.