| |
After her shift, Kali sat in the employee lounge scouring the computer for job openings. Jobs existed, but she didn't need just any job. She needed a job that would pay enough. She needed a job close enough to childcare that she wouldn't spend hours in transit. She needed childcare that would accommodate a nurse's long hours. She needed childcare that would be patient enough to work with a three, almost four-year-old, who decided not to speak. And she needed to not abandon Marvin. Marvin, who refused to leave the city with her, refused to get over himself and get a job, get his life back together. Let go.
After two hours and twelve minutes logged into the hospital's computer system, Kali sensed someone behind her. She turned. One of the older doctors smiled at her. He was a nice one. Bordered the line between harassment and affection sometimes, but nice.
“Looking for a new position, Sweetheart?”
Kali nodded.
“Finding much?”
“Not that fits.”
He pulled up a chair across from her. “A friend of mine is looking for a nurse. It's not an exciting job.” He chuckled. “Complete opposite of the ER.”
Kali swivelled her seat so she was facing him straight on.
“It takes a strong person. But decent pay. Good hours. You're a single mom, yes? With a little boy?”
Kali nodded, certain whatever he was offering would just be another job she couldn't take. Good hours meant something different when you were a man, had a wife, and probably had the money for in-home childcare.
“And you're good with the elderly. Those in their last days or hours.”
Kali sat up. He was stating those as facts, not asking a question.
The doctor leaned back. “It's out of the hospital system. A private retirement company. You'd be working with their palliative care residents. It'd be a one year contract covering a maternity leave, but once you're in with a place like that, if you do a good job, there would be a lot of opportunity for movement within the organization. Whether another maternity contract or even a permanent position.”
“Are you talking about Westwood?” Kali leaned forward. “Isn't that crazy hard to get into?”
“They want quality people. These are high paying clients. People paying a premium rate to live out their last days well. And now those days are coming to an end.”
“And the hours?”
“Typically eight-hour four-day weeks with one weekend a month of twelve hours days.”
“Day or—”
“The role the director is looking to fill is days. And they have child care on site—where the current clients you'd be working with are. Of course, clients change. So you could be moved, but the childcare is always available at the main site. It would just mean extra transit time.”
Kali swallowed. Something would be wrong—like the job wasn't starting for months or—
“The contract starts the second week of August with a two-week unpaid training starting the second week of July.”
“That's—”
“Soon. Yes.” The doctor stood. “And would mean you'd have to take two weeks off from here. And if you don't get the job after those two weeks—it's basically a prolonged interview process, they'll be judging you during that time, two to three potentials, actually—you will have lost those weeks of pay for no reason.”
Kali let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd held.
“But if you got it, which I feel confident you would, it'd be a perfect position for you. You're only part time here. I take it that's why you're looking?”
Kali nodded.
The doctor put a hand on her shoulder in a way that would make her yell harassment if he were twenty years younger. But he wasn't; he came from a different era, and he was offering her the opportunity she’d been waiting for. “I wouldn't recommend just anyone. When residents go into one of Westwood's palliative care wings, they know there's almost no chance they're coming out. So they need nurses with compassion, but also grit. Nurses who'll treat them like people, not lost causes. I've seen you here, with the hard cases. I think you've got what it takes.”
Kali swallowed.
“Should I make the call?”
Her skin tingled. On-site child care. Day shifts. Regular day shifts. “Yes.” The word choked coming out. “Yes, please.”