or, Another Job that Sucks
I started a new job today.
Even before I left home this morning, I knew that I had made a terrible mistake. I knew it yesterday when I tried to think of ways to avoid it or alternatives. I had always tried to believed, “life’s what you make it”. I should have control over my thoughts and therefore my moods and experiences. I should be able to think myself happy, think myself into enjoying what was happening. But today, my only consoling thought was that I could start drinking more.
Why do I do these things to myself? Why did I accept this position? Probably because I am a jerk. I waiting too long to find a job and now had to accept something immediately. So I interviewed with a company that I had worked for when I was 20, or maybe younger – it seemed a long time ago. I had only worked for this company for two days and they weren’t bad. The position was to assist elderly people in their homes so they can continue living in their own residences.
I figured that I was safe. I respect and enjoy the company of senior citizens, and I thought that I might even like this job. In fact, it might lead to bigger and better things, I thought. Maybe I would start a home health care business, or counseling for elderly or retired folks. I would then, of course, have to move to a warm climate like Scottsdale, AZ, an ever-growing haven for older folks.
Although the pay was embarrassingly low, I was willing to endure the poverty. I thought this would count as my “dues paying” period. This job would be a flexible, very casual, low responsibility job that I would easily handle while I looked for something better.
I should have kept looking.
Today’s assignment was to visit an elderly woman who lives with her son in a nearby but much more affluent neighborhood. I thought at least I would get to enjoy a luxurious home. The hours were only from 10 am to 2 pm. Surely I could handle a four-hour shift of lively and interesting conversation, and probably pick up some valuable advice from the woman’s life experiences. When will I learn?
After missing the correct street and barely avoiding a serious accident on a blind curve on an icy street, I found the house. “Ok, it’s not big or nice, but I made it, and I’m not even late.” I remind myself that it’s good to be alive and living in the USA,
I knocked on the door and introduced myself to the woman who answers – but she was a cleaning lady who spoke limited English. Inside, I found no one but the cleaning crew. I had been informed that a note would be left to give my instructions on what the client might need. I did find a note addressed to “Gloria”, whom I assumed was one of the cleaning ladies – after all, “Gloria” Estefan sings in Spanish. And I was very glad that the note was not for me because it read:
“Gloria,
Please help mom shower and wash her hair – she’s hasn’t been feeling 100% and may not want her hair washed – that’s ok. Clean up the tub after shower and please help her with washing her linens and laundry. Thank you and have a nice day.”
I looked into a bedroom and saw an elderly woman resting comfortably. I started to wonder if I was really supposed to be here or if I was at the wrong house. As the cleaning crew prepared to leave, the lady who answered the door pointed to the “Gloria” note and said, “This for you”.
(damn)
My heart sunk. You know that you don’t command much respect when your employer doesn’t bother to give the client your name. I shook my head and swore that this would be my first and last day on this job.
The client walked out of her bedroom. I introduced myself and we sat in the kitchen to talk. She had a pleasant face and I again fooled myself into thinking that maybe this would be all right.
“You’re not Gloria”, she said, looking disappointed. She sighed and looked out the window.
“No, I’m not.” I introduced myself again. “I’m Amy.”
She repeatedly asked where Gloria is, why isn’t Gloria coming, is Gloria sick, where is Gloria, what happened to Gloria, etc. I told her that I hoped I wouldn’t be a disappointment to her – and she asked my name again.
I figured “the third time’s the charm” and introduced myself once more. She questioned the ethnic origin of my last name, to which I answered, “German”.
She was silent for a moment, then looked up sadly, “The Germans killed my father. They killed 36 people from my husband’s family, 36 people. They took my father away when I was just a girl. They killed him.”
“I’m sorry,” is all that I could find to say.
She changed the subject to how her doctor restricted her from driving, her daughter sold her car without asking, how her husband told her not to get old, then he died, and now she wished that she were dead.
After almost an hour of these and a few other stories repeated over and over, we decided it was time for a shower. As I followed her down the hallway, I could see that someone had a saggy diaper that leaked. I prayed that changing it would not be one of my assigned duties.
Fortunately the shower scene was less scary than in Psycho. I didn’t have to do much but wait nearby in case she fell. I occupied myself by trying to alter the thermostat – the temperature was set at only 68 degrees and I was freezing. But as much as I tried to change the setting, I couldn’t move any part of the fixture. It must be programmed to stay at this meat-locker temperature.
The laundry tasks were a good opportunity to spend a few minutes without talking, or listening, and I got to warm my hands in the lukewarm water of the washing machine.
The client came into the laundry room to help me. She gave me a few handfuls of dirty clothes, which had been pre-sorted, as each fabric type had an individual hamper. (What kind of order-freak lives here anyway, I wondered?) And then she started handing me folded sheets sets and clothes which were on hangers in the closet. I was confused but played along. (At least I got to run my fingers under the warm water again!)
It was now lunchtime and I looked forward to my hot food and the potential silence that eating can bring. As the client ate her lunch, I tried to heat the leftovers I had brought, but I couldn’t get the microwave to start. After changing the settings, pushing all the buttons, and pounding on the machine, we finally got it working.
By that time, I was not in the mood to eat so I gave my lunch to the client. I sat at the table with her, hungry but disgusted, and watched her eat.
To my surprise, the back door opened and in walked the son-in-law of the elderly woman. I stood up and out-stretched my hand to introduce myself to him. Without shaking my hand, giving his name, or even acknowledging me, he turned around and opened the refrigerator.
The woman looked at me and whispered, “You’re in his chair.”
We spoke briefly as he ate the chili he had made earlier and separated into single serving containers. He was an engineer at a local company. When I told him that I lived only one mile from that company, he said, “Oh, then we’ll probably be seeing a lot of you.”
He finished eating, left his dirty dish in the sink, and then remembered that he did not set the heat for the daytime setting. “You girls must be cold.”
At last, I have a bright spark of hope. The most basic of needs is going to be met. I can go without eating if I must, forget about water, but please don’t let me die of hypothermia inside your house!
Within minutes, the indoor temperature soared from 68 degrees up to 69, where it remained for the rest of my stay.
Although I knew my shift was only until 2:00 pm, I felt as if it must be much later already, say 1998. Ironically, the woman looked at me and was surprised that it was already 1:00 pm. Time truly is relative.
We sat down in the living room, talked some more, and looked out the windows. At 1:45 pm, she started to fall asleep in her chair. I hurried to finish folding the laundry by 2 pm. And then, when it was time for me to finally leave, I smiled. I had gotten through it, the humiliation was over, and now, I was free. I was even a bit proud because this woman really seemed to like me after all.
As I walked toward the door to leave, she asked, “What did you say your name was?”
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