After two weeks of stress, sleepless nights and anxiety I found out yesterday that my major client is cutting my fee by 20%, based on comparing apples and pears, oh and greed!
It’s not as bad as the two-thirds cut they first mentioned but it is still significant for our little budget and sacrifices will have to be made until I can find a way to make up the deficit. So I will be working harder and longer for less.
But what makes me the most upset is the way this has been handled, there was no regard for the emotional trauma that I have endured for the past two weeks, not knowing how bills will be paid. And this from people that I have had a very good working relationship with until now!
So whilst I still have an income, albeit reduced, the joy I had in working with…
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The hospital was unusually quiet that bleak January evening, quiet and still like the air before a storm.
I stood in the nurses’ station on the seventh floor and glanced at the clock. It was 9 P.M. I threw a stethoscope around my neck and headed for room 712, last room on the hall. Room 712 had a new patient. Mr. Williams. A man all alone. A man strangely silent about his family.
As I entered the room, Mr. Williams looked up eagerly, but drooped his eyes when he saw it was only me, his nurse. I pressed the stethoscope over his chest and listened. Strong, slow, even beating. Just what I wanted to hear. There seemed little indication he had suffered a slight heart attack a few hours earlier.
He looked up from his starched white bed. “Nurse, would you –” He hesitated, tears filling his eyes. Once before…
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