Cheese Balls and Alcohol

In March, I left a job because of… mean girls. Yes. Actual, real-life, adult, paycheck-collecting mean girls. I hate that I even have to say that sentence out loud, but here we are. And let me tell you—it was hands down the worst professional experience of my life. A lot of you know where I was working, but maybe not that I left—or why. So buckle up. I made it 8 months. Eight. Whole. Months. Honestly, I deserve a commemorative plaque or at least a strong margarita for that level of endurance. At first, the opportunity sounded amazing. New role, new challenge, life away from the bedside—I was ready. But because I’m not new to the game, I kept my position at UCHealth. Your girl always keeps a safety net. We don’t just leap—we strategically hover. Day ONE at the new job, I questioned how an LPN was taking vital signs. You know, normal nurse behavior—making sure things are, oh, I don’t know, accurate and legal. Apparently, that was my villain origin story. From that moment on, she decided ...