Clouds

The blog has fallen off my radar. Life has taken over. But I like to record some of my adventures for later reflection.

So since Easter, I've been in a world of confusion and my head's been in a cloud. Work has been, well, awful. I achieved the promotion I've been seeking for the last couple months, the promotion that has been promised to me by Nurse Jackie and EVOO. A few months ago, seeing me eager to excel, Elvis asked me which departments I wanted to run. So I brainstormed a few things and presented my thoughts to Elvis. Then I told EVOO. Then EVOO told Nurse Jackie. And voila, I got my departments. My new FTE's amount to 64.5, bringing my total to 131.5.

I've come a heck of a long way. And I've managed to manage my nine managers and their staffs. I keep uncovering problems (some days are like "Whack-a-Mole") but I am having fun. I love my job and have been praised by several VP's for my efforts and outcomes. This is great.

However, I found myself in a political minefield. I learned of my promotion when one of my new direct reports asked to speak with me regarding a problem he's having in his department. He needs advice. Me, feeling the deer-in-headlights blush creep up my neck, played along as though I knew this was now my department. Turns out that my superiors told the manager before they told me. This is bad. Not only was it unprofessional, but they took away my bargaining chips. See, without a formal offer, you cannot negotiate for a new title or pay increase.

Skip the formal offer and you skip the negotiation phase for titles and salary. Great for them. Bad for me. I accepted the assignment but in the same breath, asked that they at least reconsider my title. It's not about the money, but with my FTE's doubled, a title should be the least they do.

Nope. Neither of my bosses waivered. They said they cannot change my title without re-evaluating everyone's titles. That's the political minefield part.

So I did what any sensible woman would do. I ran to the only other woman I trust in senior leadership, the VP of HR. She has become quite a friend and helped hook me up with a formal mentor, the president of St. Benson's hospital in Muppetville (this president is a woman, the only non-Sister senior administrator in the system). Anyway, my dear friend, the HR lady, is going to bat for me. I have no idea how this one will turn out, but I am forcing myself to be optimistic.

There's a lot of change going on in the hospitals right now and I'm only a small part of it. So I would rather have my problems then someone else's!

(That's optimism, right?)

So that's how I'm really feeling. And I'm not giving up yet!