I Am a Not-So-Glorified and Unpaid Custodian

wnat I did not see in my first two days of my lab internship

Regarding my lab internship,  I expected to do a great deal of filling people's coffee orders and general  gopher work.  I didn't expect to spend my entire day putting on rubber gloves and a mask covering my mouth and nose, sealing and disposing of wastetbasket liners of biohazardous materials all over the building, and then removing the gloves and scrubbing my hands for a full five minutes, then removing the facial mask.  My next job was to clean the restrooms on Floor #1. Following the restroom-cleaning procedure, I repeated the biohazardous wasted disposal procedure, followed again by the cleaning of restrooms on Floor #2.

My father is not happy with this situation. He sayys that despite the fact that I am his daughter and have been looking through microscopes since I was two, he didn't expect that the lab would have me imnediately counting white blood cells to determine the presence of appendicitis or lack thereof, but he did not think I would be relegated to full-scale custodial duties and that, furthermore, no one who is unpaid who isn't at least a second-year medical school student and hasn't signed tons of waivers should be handling biohazardous waste.  He also said the facility is negligent in not also requiring eye covering, as the pathogens with which I was likely dealing  can also become airborne and enter the body through the eyes.

I told him I'd buy my own pair of goggles, but he said they need to be disposable, and a fresh pair needs to be put on each time after I've scrubbed up.

My dad is calling the professor who arranged this internship to find out how many students he has sent there and how many have reported anything back to him. He also plans to drop in on me at work next Tuesday. I told him that if he  really wants to find me working under the conditions I was working under yesterday and the day before, it would be wise to wait until he has visited the lab while I'm there before calling the professor.

My surname isn't common and my father should be known to the more important people at the lab, but it's possible that those low enough in the chain of command to supervise interns would have no idea of my father's eminence in his field. It's also possible that they do, and they're taking it out on me, though I highly doubt it.  In any event, I suspect my final day of interning at that particular facility will be Tuesday.  I told my dad what my schedule was for last Tuesday and Wednesday.  He plans to walk in on me while I'm handling biohazardous wastes.  He doesn't usually throw his weight around, but he may if he sees what he would have seen yesterday or the day before.

It's actually not the nepotistic aspect of this that bothers me as much as the idea that  those who have no connections have had little or no choice but to tolerate what is essentially workplace abuse in an unpaid setting.

Grease Is Not the Word

Right now I'm killing time serving as a rehearsal accompanist for some university-affiliated group's production of Grease. I'm not doing it out of the goodness of my heart. I'm getting much-needed performance credits that I need as a music major. This and the two separate senior recitals will push me just just barely above the minimum. I'm considering doing the a capella group just for the fun of it, but it will be nice to do it because I want to  and not because I must. That way, if  I become too stressed, I can tell them I have to miss a rehearsal and that they're free to take it or leave it.

Grease really needs a performance pianist, but playing for the entire run of the show is too much of my summer to give up. The girl playing the lead was supposed to play for rehearsals and performances, but no one remotely qualified auditioned for the role of "Sandy,"  so she ended up taking the role, leaving both the rehearsal and performance pianist positions vacant. If the producer could line up one or two others who could each take a few nights, I'd be willing to do up to five performances, but that's my maximum. It even pays a little, but not enough to make it worth my time. I'm willing to help out a bit, but fifteen performances takes up too big a portion of my summer. I'm also doing my three-days-a-week  lab internship.

My friend Alyssa is here from Utah. She flew out with her aunt, who was traveling with twin six-month-olds and a  sixteen-month-old. (The aunt also has three other girls eight and under. It's crazy in my opinion, but no one asked for my opinion.) Alyssa comes with me to Grease rehearsals. She turns pages with me or goes into another room with a piano to plunk out parts for people who need help, as she plays piano reasonably well.  She said she's going to the beach when I go to the lab. I hope she uses tons of sunblock, as she's very Nordic in coloring, and I've seen a two new students who underestimated the power of the sun and ended up with third-degree burns.

My lab internship begins tomorrow. I predict that I will spend a whole lot of time mopping up spills and getting coffee for the employees and won't come within a foot of the lens of a microscope for at least three weeks.  Sometimes nepotism works in one's favor,  though, so I may get to look into a microscope in two weeks instead of in three.

I have my TV on, which I often do in times of insomnia. I tend to turn it on, then log onto my laptop and not switch channels. Right now a healer I haven't seen before is shaking people's heads and telling them that Dr. Jesus has healed them. It's all fine, well, and wonderful, but if any of these people Dr. Jesus has healed have bona fide illnesses, I suspect even Dr. Jesus himself would agree with me that they should be seeking the care of living, breathing, licensed physicians as well. God often works His greatest miracles through modern medicine.