Going out on a limb...with a chainsaw

Today I applied for a different position within my company. Handing the application to my supervisor felt a lot like jumping in front of a speeding bus, although she said she's always had the same feeling when she's requested transfers.

This other job requires some skills I've never cultivated, but OMG, I can't deal with the phones any more! Especially with all the paperwork they've thrown at me on top of it. It's insane: I pick up a piece of paper--the phone rings. I take care of the call, return to the paper, locate the name of the patient, attempt to locate them in the system--the phone rings. Deal with the call, pull up the account, look at the information--the phone rings. Over the course of the last three days, I think I've thinned out my in-box by maybe ten sheets of paper. The trouble is, I'm getting in about 30 a day...you do the math.

I can learn to pull reports and post credits. I'll call insurance companies and listen to inane hold music all day long. Just get me away from callers who cuss me out over things I have no control of. (Stop quoting the damn letter on the statement we sent you! I've heard it 5K times already! I didn't write it, I can't change it, and I don't give a flying fuck whether you like it or not!)

It offers the additional benefit of getting me out of the shoebox and back into a double-wide cubicle. That would be nice, although since I switched my fan from one side of my shelf to the other, the kvetching has stopped. It buggers up the feng shui, though.

We'll see what happens....

Going out on a limb...with a chainsaw

Today I applied for a different position within my company. Handing the application to my supervisor felt a lot like jumping in front of a speeding bus, although she said she's always had the same feeling when she's requested transfers.

This other job requires some skills I've never cultivated, but OMG, I can't deal with the phones any more! Especially with all the paperwork they've thrown at me on top of it. It's insane: I pick up a piece of paper--the phone rings. I take care of the call, return to the paper, locate the name of the patient, attempt to locate them in the system--the phone rings. Deal with the call, pull up the account, look at the information--the phone rings. Over the course of the last three days, I think I've thinned out my in-box by maybe ten sheets of paper. The trouble is, I'm getting in about 30 a day...you do the math.

I can learn to pull reports and post credits. I'll call insurance companies and listen to inane hold music all day long. Just get me away from callers who cuss me out over things I have no control of. (Stop quoting the damn letter on the statement we sent you! I've heard it 5K times already! I didn't write it, I can't change it, and I don't give a flying fuck whether you like it or not!)

It offers the additional benefit of getting me out of the shoebox and back into a double-wide cubicle. That would be nice, although since I switched my fan from one side of my shelf to the other, the kvetching has stopped. It buggers up the feng shui, though.

We'll see what happens....