I am an ICU nurse, therefore my standards for and expectations of people are low. For those of you who function outside of my world where everything is "stat" and triage (prioritizing) is a means of survival (for me and those entrusted to my care) not just a mere necessity, I will explain the first sentence. In the simplest of terms...if you are not dead or I am not pounding on your chest to keep you from being dead ...you are golden. Unless of course, you are one of the many unfortunate persons whose family thinks that continuing to live long past the expiration date of ones vital organs (and yes the mind is a vital organ) is an entitlement. For these unfortunate souls, the opposite applies. If you are dead and I am no longer being forced to keep you alive to satisfy some member of your family who has obviously lost one of their vital organs, you are golden. On the other hand, my standards for and expectations of myself are very high. They have to be. If they are not, people, (not the ones in the second category listed above) die.
I am not oblivious to the fact that not every job is quite like mine and that my sense of reality (not to mention my sense of humor, smell and sensibility in general) is somewhat skewed by what I do. However, I am at a loss for understanding why so many people are willing and apparently very much able to let their standards and expectations of their profession of choice go consistently unmet.
I realize that no one will die if I can't get a couch or if I have to make two trips to the tire place to get the holes fixed ( ok... so the tire thing, yeah someone could have died, but they didn't and that's not really my point). But is it really outside normal expectations to think that the people entrusted to get me a couch and fix my tire do so in a timely and effecient manner. By this I mean, less than eighteen months for the couch and fix both holes the first time and not send me off with my two kids on a leaking tire. I won't even mention the personal standards of the guy cutting his nails in the waiting room of Mavis Tire.
I often wonder why the powers that be seem to have such a twisted sense of humor when it comes to my life. The best I have come up with is that it is a big Karma b****slap for my own twisted sensibility. Yes, this entire rant was all the result of a single 24 hours in the life that is mine. I am however grateful for the evening that ended it all and apologize to the children who's plans were altered as a result of the chaos that is me...