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This Manager’s Theory Crashed

, , , , | Working | December 4, 2020

When I work in central supply at a hospital, we are not only responsible for inventory and restocking, but we are also in charge of crash carts.

We have fifteen to twenty carts ready in our department. If a crash cart is used, we swap the new one for the used one. We bring the used one back to the department and disinfect, inventory, and restock it. The final step is to fill out a Pride Slip: a piece of paper with our initials and the expiration date.

The crash carts aren’t numbered, so once the Pride Slip has been pulled, there is no way to keep track of where a crash cart has been or who was the last person to restock it.

On the rare occasion that we don’t have the supplies to complete the crash cart, we have to leave it at the front counter with a note saying, “Needs electrodes,” or whatever. Then, when the item is delivered, someone on the next shift will add it.

I get to work one day and there is a crash cart at the front counter. I figure it is somehow incomplete and that whatever they are waiting for hasn’t been delivered yet.


Manager: “Did you do this crash cart?”

Me: “I may have.”

I’m not being flippant. Some shifts, I don’t have any. And the most I do on a single shift is ten.

The manager pulls out a Pride Slip like she’s Perry Mason.

Manager: “These are your initials, aren’t they?”

Me: “Those are my initials, but that’s not my handwriting.”

Manager: “What?”

Me: “That’s not my handwriting. I didn’t write that.”

One of the office ladies happens to be walking by. She picks up the Pride Slip and studies it for a bit.

Office Lady: “She’s right. That’s not her handwriting. She doesn’t write that way.”

Once my manager was convinced that I hadn’t worked on that crash cart, or couldn’t prove I had, she didn’t say anything else to me about it. I went on a delivery run and when I returned, the crash cart had been put away, presumably after someone had corrected whatever was wrong with it.

I know it’s not the most satisfying conclusion. But I’m grateful that someone stood up for me.