Yay! Nurses Week is finally over!

[tavalon]

Yes, I'm a nurse and I hate Nurses Week. Would that be because I'm a burnt out nurse? Actually, no, not really. Well, except for during Nurses Week, for that is the week set aside for our managers to recognize us as valuable people rather than staffing problems to be fixed. Sounds, reasonable, right? Yeah, no, not so much. For these managers always seem to decide that we, their loyal nurses are a cross between angels, Florence Nightingale, and a Precious Moments figurine - in other words, they think we're six and that we will just love the useless Hallmark tchotchkes they wish to bestow upon us. Our expected role is to be thankful for such, um, fake adoration. Twenty years I've suffered through Nurses Week and of those twenty gifts in lieu of a bonus, none am I even able to bring back to my memory. They weren't memorable.

This year's little cutesy gift would have gone the way of all the others had it not been for the stellar wit of my husband. But I get ahead of myself.Let us take a tour of the little gifty, with all of it's unintentional denigration. The items are wrapped in a pink little cloth bag, and include such unusual items as a crayon, a cotton ball, two pennies (yes, pennies). But of course, such a heartfelt gift wouldn't be complete without a cute little saying:

Bandage: To mend hurt feelings
Crayon: To color everyday cheerful and bright
Lifesaver: Because you are always there
Starburst: An added burst of energy for those double shifts
Fireball: For when you're feeling burnt out
Cottonball: To help soften disappointments
2 Pennies: So you'll always have the "CENTS" to know how important you are

The only blessing I can think of is that she left these in the break room for us to pick up so I didn't have to pretend to be anything but wryly amused. But I thought, why keep this all to myself. I will take it home to my family so they can see how much my manager values me. So, I pour it out in front of hubby and as he gets a quizzical look on his face, I tell him to read the note and it will all make sense. After we finish laughing, he says, "But, hon, it's missing something." "Really?", I say. "Yeah, it needs a stamp for when you go postal."