Today I got a letter from the Ministry of Justice, wanting me for Jury Service. Again.
(That’s right. I made such a big impact on them, they decided to track me down, and ask me to come back and do it again! I am the valedictorian of jury service.)
I immediately considered hiding the unopened envelope under my mattress. I know, I know. It’s not what your typical adult would do upon being summoned for jury service, but I think we have all come to terms with the fact that I’m not your typical adult.
My main objection to the jury service thing is that I did this at the end of last year, and it was a long, nasty domestic violence case, and I’m not particularly keen on sitting in on another one of those. Hearing that kind of negativity every day for a week, and then having to discuss it in depth… Well, that wasn’t so fun.
Also? I might be being overly optimistic, but there’s a chance I’ll be employed elsewhere by April – I’m applying for jobs as we speak. And if I’m employed elsewhere, well how do I break that news? Like, my new employer will be all ‘hey, so we’d like to offer you the job’, and I’d be all ‘Cool! I accept! I’ll send you through a list of dates in the next two months where I’m not going to be here because I’ve already made plans, or because the Ministry of Justice have made plans for me.’
Actually? After re-reading, I don’t think I will say that, because it makes it sound like the Ministry of Justice has made plans for me like incarceration. That’s not the best impression to make on a future employer.
(Dear Prospective Employers:
If you’ve stumbled across this blog while doing an in depth investigation into job applicants, well I’ve probably shot myself in the foot anyway with that whole ‘depression’ and ‘slightly weird’ thing that I have going on. BUT for the record I would like to state that I’ve never been incarcerated. In fact? If you’ll see above, I think you’ll find that I was actually named Valedictorian of Jury Service (2010), and I’m pretty sure they don’t give that out to anyone with a criminal record.)
(Note: That’s not technically true. They don’t generally give awards for jury service.)
(They should though.)
I guess I could write in and defer my jury service, saying something about how I can’t get the time off work… But honestly? At this point I can get the time off work, and I’d technically be lying! And if you’re going to pick someone to lie to, it probably shouldn’t be the Ministry of Justice, right?
Right. That’s what I thought.
I mean, they probably have a whole squad of large burly men with guns to track down jury duty shirkers.
Another thing I did today was call eleventy billion clinics, doctors offices, and medical centers*, trying to find myself a new GP. I’m not enrolled for semester one with Uni, so I can’t use student health anymore. When I decided to take a break from Uni, I also decided to just sign up for another doctor sometime in the future. No rush.
Except now it’s nearing the end of February, and there is a rush, because I need an appointment this week – preferably with someone who has my records on-hand.
And now that I’m calling all the Capital PHO GP’s listed on the Ministry of Health website, I’ve suddenly discovered that none of them are accepting new patients. (Unless of course I want to take two buses, a train, and three hours off work every time I need a new prescription.)
This would have been nice to know a month ago. I probably would have started calling around sooner.
Thankfully I eventually found a medical centre that will take me on as a new patient, and it’s only a short bus ride away from town. I’m going on Thursday to fill out all the paperwork, and I’m not going to lie. I’m so relieved, that I’m probably going to hug the receptionist. And the doctor. And maybe the potted fern in the reception. (Assuming there is a potted fern in the reception.)
Now my next stress is whether or not I’ll get along with this doctor. Not that I usually have issues getting on with people. I’m just worried I won’t click with her. I mean, I LOVE my doctor at student health. There was a point a few months ago where I felt like she was the only person in the world I could talk to frankly about my depression.
Now I have to find that level of comfort – quickly – with a new doctor.
It’s an intimidating thought.
Also? When I was talking to the receptionist, and booking my appointment, she originally wanted to give me a male doctor because one of her other lady doctors is on leave this week.
Cue mild panic.
I was all: ‘But… I might have to talk about female issues… I can’t do that with a man… I’ll probably have to say period at some point, and I’d probably gag, and fall over if I had to do it in front of a boy doctor.’
So the nice lady on the front desk agreed to find me a lady doctor, so that I could talk about lady issues without dying of humiliation. Then, making the natural assumption that she was talking to a teenager (I have a really young phone voice, and the female doctor issue would not have helped) she told me I’d need to bring a parent or guardian with me to sign my PHO forms. So then I had to blush a little harder, and explain that I’m actually 25. She seemed really very surprised – and just a teeny, tiny bit suspicious.
So in conclusion, I’m going to have to dress up like a mature successful adult on Thursday, so that the receptionist doesn’t demand to see photo ID… Not that I look particularly like a teenager. I hope.
Alright. I’m currently hiding out in the nasty leaky kitchen and break room at work, because there are a bunch of people in my office talking accounts, and approval, and audits, and it was driving me mental. I hate dealing with numbers, and currency, and GST. It stresses me out.
It stresses me out so much that having to listen to people dealing with it drives me out of my own office. You never know, this kind of thing could be catching. If I hadn’t left, I might have woken up tomorrow morning babbling about profit margins, and coding. *Shudder.*
And so-ends todays over-sharing session.
*Also? What the heck is the difference between a clinic, doctors offices, and a medical center? Is there one? Why is choosing a new GP so freaking hard!