The P'Cola Beach Sign Beautification Project

You know, Gulf Breeze is a pretty progressive little town. So, why can't they get with the program and install a few underground utilities? Dang. It makes a huge difference. They planted all the pretty little flowers...but those little flowers can only go so far.

Before......and......After

Dont' get me going...

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

I have a soapbox that I keep near in case of verbal emergencies. I drag it out frequently at work. (Did I ever tell you that I should, and deserve, to be Queen of the Hospital?)

Yesterday started out much like all the others. Grumbling and social unrest amongst the worker bees. Then, someone said something that got me going. (Go ahead Bumble...do it...pwfffttt!)

I got on said soapbox in the middle of the locker room. (That is the marvelous thing about a soapbox. It is extremely portable.) It started out with just a word or two about management, and before I knew it, I was babbling away with a small following. (I don't speak well at large engagements.)

The topic took many turns but eventually centered on incentive. If I only had a Power Point Presentation, I'm sure I would have been elected Queen on the spot. Here are the highlights of my soapbox presentation.

• All we hear from management is ROOM TURNOVER. Must be on time. Hurry.
  
• Why is this? Because the surgeons are breathing down their necks. And who brings patients to the hospital? The surgeons.
  
• What do patients translate to? Cash. The bottom dollar.
• The surgeons want to get their surgeries in and out on time. Understandable.
  
• Who actually gets the cases going? The worker bees. That would be me. Buzzing my butt off all day long. hurry. Hurry. HURRY!!
• What happens when I get the surgeon out on time? The surgeon is happy! The hospital is happy because the surgeon is happy. But, me? Not so happy. Why? All the work is done because I ran my ass off all day long, so the hospital sends me home early. No pay.
• Something is really wrong with this whole setup. The surgeon is happy. The hospital is happy. The worker is not happy.
  
• Which brings me back to incentive. Where is mine? And don't start spewing about a job well done. A job well done does not pay my bills.

So, exactly where, in this scheme of things, is my incentive to run like a wild woman all day long? There is none. A big fat zero. Nada. Nothing.

Answer: when we work like crazy women and get the surgeons in an out on time, don't send us home without pay. Send us home...yes, but with our regular hourly wages to finish out the day.

Benefits of this proposal?

1. Happy surgeons
   
2. Happy hospital adminstrators because of more money due to more patients from surgeons
3. Happy workers
   

How does this happen?

1. Happy workers will work even harder to get all work done to enjoy the paid time off at home.
2. Resulting in even happier surgeons and happier Ivory Tower People.
   

Win. Win. Win. You really can't get any better than that. I got a standing ovation for that little lockeroom soapbox speech with a few Amen, Sister 's thrown in for good measure.

This is a little something for Bumble. Nothing to do with this post, but I stumbled across it while looking for an image. It reminded me of him.
It will become blatantly obvious when you take a peek.

Bumble can never look at any of those optical illusions that you have to look beyond the picture to see something else in the picture. His little eyes see what they sees and that is all that they sees. (Quote modified from Popeye.)