BerthaBlog

One morning last week I came in to work and found a couple of documents on my desk. There was a post-it note from the boss atop them, saying he needed them signed for his attorney or somesuch.

One of them was a standard nondisclosure agreement. Nothing unexpected or concerning there; I work with private financial information and it’s perfectly reasonable to have me sign an agreement not to share that information around.

The other one was a non-compete agreement. I’ve never seen one, so I don’t know if it was standard or not, but it did concern me. For one thing, I’ve been doing some volunteer bookkeeping for a local nonprofit—nothing fancy, just helping them reconcile their bank accounts after they got a few months behind. But technically, under the terms of this agreement, I would not be able to do that any more. For another thing, it contained a clause about how I wasn’t to work in the field for [months/years] after my employment at this job ends. Unless this job offers some kind of severance deal to support me during those months/years, I’m going to need to find another one, and since our boss doesn’t even like us working overtime because of the cost, I’m pretty sure there’s no severance package.

But that part where it said [months/years]: that’s actually what it said. Whoever had printed out the non-compete template had neglected to replace “[months/years]” with a specific time frame. So I took that as an easy way out; I signed the nondisclosure agreement, then returned both to my boss and told him I hadn’t signed the non-compete because of the spot where it hadn’t been completed. I was kind of hoping that it would fall through the cracks and never be mentioned again, because I don’t think I’m willing to sign a document that prohibits me from earning a living.

At the time, I assumed I was the only one who’d gotten the papers to sign, because I’m the newest one there.

Just before we all left for the holiday break, two other co-workers snagged me on the way out to ask me if I’d gotten some papers to sign.

I said, “You mean the nondisclosure and non-compete agreements? Yeah, I signed the nondisclosure, but the non-compete one didn’t specify a time period so I didn’t sign that one.”

“Good,” said the other co-worker. “Good to know. Thanks!”

Apparently I’m not the only one who got them, and not the only one who was concerned. I didn’t mean to be seditious, really I didn’t…

Elections are coming round in our area. The long-incumbent mayor is stepping down, leaving a number of candidates hopeful that they might actually have a shot at the job now. We’re also voting for members of the city council, and several bond issues.

Friday I went around to one of the early voting locations to put in my two cents.

Usually voting locations forbid campaigning within a certain distance of the site. Apparently that wasn’t the rule here; I had to run a gauntlet of candidates who wanted to introduce themselves, shake my hand, hand me literature. Many of them were running for city council in districts for which I wouldn’t even be voting. I extricated myself as politely as I knew how and finally made it to the voting place. I was asked to turn off my cell phone before entering. On my way out, I tossed all my collected leaflets into the recycling bin set out for that purpose.

I am left wondering two things:

One: Why did they want me to turn my cell phone off? Were they afraid I was going to cheat on the voting test?

Two: Is there a point to campaigning on the very doorstep of the voting site? Hasn’t everyone already decided who they’re voting for by the time they arrive?

So part of the aftercare from the surgery was for me to change the dressings. One was just a simple gauze-and-tape affair. The other is a hole in his lower belly that came open after the surgery; it’s big enough that I could put a marble into it (if I were so inclined). That one involves something called a wet-to-dry pack, where I moisten some gauze with sterile saline solution, pack it into the hole, then cover the hole with dry gauze and tape over the whole thing. Apparently the dry gauze then slowly draws the moisture out of the wet gauze, then when you pull out the now-dry gauze it helps clean out the wound.

As a person who has always been interested in biology, I found it fascinating. The hole doesn’t bleed, it’s just… a hole. In his abdomen.

As a person who is married to the patient, I want the hole to heal up right the fuck now.

Besides, he won’t let me post pictures.

We’re a bit too far west to be seriously affected by Irene; looks like we’re mostly going to get some rain and a lot of branches down. Just east of us there are flood warnings, and on the coast the tourists have been evacuated and the year-round residents that weren’t are now watching piers and buildings wash away.

She’s still heading north; good luck to everybody in her path.