One of the managers from the unit I precepted at this summer left me a voice mail today. They're considering my application for a night shift position in labor and delivery.
I was so surprised to get the voice mail -- and angry, and frustrated -- that I cried. At school. Again.
Funny thing is, I was told by two different HR representatives on two different occasions over the past week that there no positions available for new graduates in this unit -- nor would there be in the forseeable future. I, in fact, even told this HR department this week (very nicely, might I add) that I had taken a position with a different facility.
Part of me wanted to shout hallelujah and agree to the interview. I mean, even though I signed all those contracts, I didn't start hospital orientation until Monday morning, right? I could call the new hospital, explain the situation, and see where things went from there!
A bigger part of me (my egg nog latte-gut, perhaps) thought otherwise. I was raised to honor my word, and the fact remains that I was ecstatic about the possibility of working at this new hospital after my interview.
After some soul searching and talking with my advisor, I decided to buck up and call the manager back. I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to say. Like I said, part of me wanted to be effusive and thankful and take the interview. Part of me wanted to give them a piece of my mind. And the other part of me just wanted to tell the sad truth about how thankful I am for the offer of an interview, but the timing and series of miscommunications make it impossible right now.
I guess I have more time to think about it, though, because I had to leave your standard "Tag, you're it!" message. Hopefully I'll hear back from them on Monday.
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