On Being Watched...

The clinic that I work at is a small clinic. It's quiet a lot of the time, and we get these weird walk in, emergency type clients that we see once because their regular vet is closed and then never see again. We have a small group of eccentric regulars. But if it's quiet and there are no in-patients for me to tend to, I do busy work, like cleaning and restocking, making surgery packs, and hanging out with the boarding animals. A lot of the time the doctor will run off to do some errands and it will just be me in the clinic, listening to Q107.

And the doctor has cameras. Set up all over the clinic. Technically he's 24 hours so he SHOULD have a camera set up in the treatment area where there might be sick dogs and cats to watch. But he has taken it a step further. He's camera-fied the entire clinic so that he can spy on his employees. I'll let out a dog to run around in the clinic and get some exercise and then leash it up if it's harrassing the clinic cat. One day when I did that my cell phone instantly rang. It was the doctor. Telling me not to leash the dog up, to let him run free, all of two seconds after I'd leashed the dog up. He was watching me. Creepy.

...And I bet he does it a lot too. It's probably like Facebook to him. Let me just go and check in with what's happening at the clinic! I bet he compulsively checks it - just to see if anyone's doing anyone interesting, if anyone's ripping him off, if anyone's doing anything that they should be fired for. To maintain absolute control.

There is a no cell phone policy in the clinic ("This rule will be enforced!" reads a passive aggressive note in the staff area), so I have to send out my text messages from the washroom, where there's no camera.

So, knowing I'm being watched, I manipulate it. I show my best worker bee to the cameras - look how conscientous I am! Always so busy! Always finding ways to make us look better and be more efficient! Plus, I show the lens my goofy side, me playing with the boarding dogs, or cuddling with Princess, the one eyed, totally obese cat who lives there. Alone in an empty vet clinic, I dance around to classic rock, and sing along, while I'm sweeping and mopping. The doctor has never asked me about it, but I know he knows.

No, that still sucks. Cameras at work suck. A lot.