K over at Interstitial Life brought this topic to mind with her recent post on the Facebook/Breastfeeding controversy.
As you’ve all figured out by now, I’m the biggest blabbermouth in the world. Bill says the fastest way to spread a secret is to tell an Oates (my maiden name), although I think he’s primarily motivated by his desire to make snarky comments and get away with it. So my telling my sister that he said she looked like me dressed up as Howdy Doody (because she looks just like me but has red hair and freckles) was kind of a public service thing.
Anyway, I’ve gotten some questions over the past week from folks wanting to know how the new job is going. It’s fine. I’ve never done bookkeeping before, so I’m feeling kind of overwhelmed trying to learn it, but I keep telling myself that if I can write a computerized accounting system, I can figure out how to use one. This pep talk is working great except for my recurring nightmare that the authorities shut down the clinic because the books are so fouled up.
You probably won’t hear much about the clinic here at the Chronicles. It would be a HIPAA violation to share anything about the patients and unethical to share anything about folks who report to me. Occasionally, there will be non-patient, non-employee related things, like this week’s mouse excursion, but mostly stuff I have to keep to myself.
One thing I can say about the clinic, though, is that the culture is radically different from the manufacturing environment I worked in for the past 11 years. This became evident when I overheard a couple of folks talking outside my door the other day.
Person A: My husband is having a colonoscopy today. He threw up the prep solution and had to take it again. He was up all night.
Okay, this is (barely) within the limits of what could be discussed (in a whisper) at Ye Olde Job.
Person B: Yeah, I’ve had loose stools for the past two weeks.
Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.
(Tomorrow: A couple of examples of extreme oversharing in the workplace.)