Missing you

I am very close to leaving this job. I'm finally going back to school and once I've finished school, I will be able to find a better paying job.
It's hard to think about leaving though. I've been here for a little over three years. It's the longest job I've ever had. It's basically my second home because I'm there almost as much as my own house! The clients are like some weird family that everyone knows about, but never meet. The staff are like an even weirder family that everyone gets to meet. I say my fellow staff members are more weird because isn't that how it works? Our clients rub off on us so not only are we weird in our own way, but we have an added weirdness that comes out every once in a while. Okay, more than once in a while for some of us . . . you know who you are! Now, don't worry because I am including myself here! I catch myself using phrases like, "No not funny," and "Hi my buddy." Those are not normal phrases for me. I've picked them up from my clients.

So here's the problem. I am so excited about moving on to a better paying job. I won't have to live paycheck to paycheck anymore. Only two short years away! =) On the other hand, I can't imagine my life without my clients and staff. I can't imagine not seeing these six people almost every day. Same with the staff. It's like when you're a kid and you have to move or change schools. You tell your friends that you'll keep in touch and visit and call. And you do, for about a month or two. Then your new life takes over and you forget about the old. Out with the old, in with the new!

We, myself and other staff members, have been together for over two years, some of us for over three. I've been working with these clients for three plus years. I've watched them all improve in their day to day routine. The smallest improvement is just amazing when you realize it just happened in front of your eyes. I've seen my fellow staff members grow close and support each other. I can't imagine not driving 15 minutes to work every day, not smoking a before-work cigarette, not getting frustrated because paperwork wasn't finished, not laughing when a client is yelling at you and calling you a "goddamn lowlife" and two minutes later, he is hugging you.

It's a good two years away. It seems like a lifetime. It's going to fly by.

Laziness is not a virtue.

The whole point of my job is to improve my clients' overall quality of life. Increase their independence. Help them become better people. All that jazz. So what happens when a staff member suddenly stops doing their job? They continue to come to work and go through the motions, but there is no feeling involved, no desire to help the clients. What happens when that staff is the head of the house?
She's a great person, really. I get along with her, personally. Professionally, it's somewhat of a different story. There is no communication. I'm surprised that myself and the other staff get any information because she does not share anything with us. Also, it seems that her desire to actually improve the clients' lives is gone. Like I said, she goes through the motions. But that is all. Is she just power hungry, wanting to stay as the boss, even though she doesn't really care about the job? Who knows. All I know is that when I work with her, she does not try very hard. A specific example is probably needed.
Two nights ago, I worked with her. There is one client that is somewhat physically disabled due to a stroke last year. We have to walk behind him, help him get dressed, and help him into bed. He can scoot into a comfortable position, but if you leave the room before he is all the way on the bed and tucked in, he will stop scooting and basically just lay there until you come back. Well, the staff member that I'm talking about took him to bed, then left work early. As she left, I heard someone yelling and it sounded like this particular client. As I entered his room and turned on the light, I saw him halfway off his bed, literally about to fall off. I put him on his bed and tucked him in. I called the staff member. She definitely did not like the fact that I pointed out a mistake to her. She also did not take responsibility, saying that she "figured he would just do it." Seriously, you have been working with him for three years. You should know him better than that.
I realize that I seem to complain about my job a lot. Yet I say I love it. Well anything you love will have its problems. I love my boyfriend, yet I may occasionally complain about something. I love my parents, but I may complain about them. I love my apartment, but I may complain about the entire complex. Loving something does not mean there are not things to complain about. I love my job, but there are still things that I complain about.

Drama drama drama.

I may have said this before, but I do love my job. Going to that house every day is like going to my second home. I'm there almost as much as I am at my own house. I eat dinners there. I work there. I talk about my life to other people there.
So just like any other job, there is drama. When I first started, we had a full staff. There was one night a week that the a.m. crew also worked a p.m. shift. That was kind of weird and actually, it turned out to be very difficult because things were not done the same as on a normal p.m. shift. The a.m. crew and the p.m. crew(which, I am proud to say, I am a part of) do things differently. The a.m. crew take the clients on a lot of outings, while we, the p.m. crew, do their programs. Three of the a.m. members have been at this house for at least ten years, a couple even more. So they are set in their ways. They do things the way they want. So on the night when they work p.m., everything gets screwed up. Well the lead worker, who was hired only four or five months before me, wanted things to change. The way things worked before she was hired was incredible. Incredible because nothing got done. No one did the clients' programs, even though they marked it in the books that they did. Basically, they didn't do their job. Well the new lead worked decided to change things. So on the p.m. shift, we did everything. We did all their programs and made sure that we were doing our job, which is basically to help the clients improve their independence and quality of life.
The fact that the lead worker was trying to change things created drama. The people who were used to doing things their way didn't want it to change, and that's what the lead worker was doing. The RSC, who is right above the lead worker, played favorites and it was very easy for the a.m. people to push her around and get their way with her. There was a point a few months ago when the lead worker almost quit. If she had left, everything would have fallen apart and would have gone back to the way they were before: shitty. That was about the time I started looking for a second job. I didn't want her to quit and everything to go to shit and me not have a backup job. She and I actually talked about both of us quitting. Neither of us like drama and that's all it was anymore. We both decided to stay and try to work it out.
Luckily for both of us, she was able to get a meeting with the main boss at the house. She told her about the a.m. crew screwing up that one p.m. night, about the RSC playing favorites, and everything else. Things changed almost immediatly. That a.m. night is now gone. We have it back to do things the way we do every other night. The RSC almost lost her job and now she is doing somewhat better. The a.m. crew is doing a little better working with us and communicating. So things are looking up, making me want to stay even more.
I have no problems with anyone that I work with, not personality wise. However, professionally speaking, I have a few problems. Mostly with the old RSC. She is a backstabbing liar. I have heard her say things to me and then the exact opposite a week later. She tells people things and then tells other the complete opposite. Also, since she is the old RSC and has been there for years, she thinks she can do whatever she wants. Ugh. When I first started, I thought she was a nice girl. And she can be. But she lies. And that is an immediate turn off. I can't see myself ever actually being more than a coworker with her. And I literally don't want to work with her. It's frustrating to not like someone you work with.

A "real" job.

So on my first day I was just shadowing. I would observe and start learning about the clients. The only thing I was told about the house was that it was the most high functioning. What they didn't tell me was that there were six clients. I was used to only two or three. So having six would be a huge step. When I knocked on the door, a short, older lady with long black hair in a high ponytail answered the door. She was wearing sports shorts and I'll admit, I honestly thought she was a client at first. But actually, she was the lead worker and now someone I get along with amazingly. I met a few of the staff members and the RSC, my boss, introduced me to all of the clients. Well, with there being six of them, it was hard at first to place names to faces. The one I remembered was the only female. The RSC had me start on the highest functioning client in the house. She showed me some of his programs. He had his PTs(physical therapy), remembering his phone number and some survival signs(e.g. Stop, Crosswalk), and a few other things. Then around five in the afternoon, one of the staff would make dinner with a client helping. Eating dinner was like a family affair. Everyone sat at the same table, which was metal and actually two put together. Then, when dinner was over, one of the clinets would put everything on the table away and each client put their dishes away. A different staff then the one that cooked would clean up the kitchen. I was there for four hours that first day. After dinner, the RSC explained what went on after dinner. Then I left.
On the drive home that night, I was excited. I had two days off before I started full time. My next day there, I would be there for eight hours. I would work with my client, helping him do his daily tasks. I realized that I hadn't played it all up from my other job. It was a good as I remembered. Easy, and yet difficult at the same time.
What really irritates me about this kind of job is that many people don't see it as a "real" job. Like at a retail store, you have a certain amount that you are required to sell so you interact with customers. You're on your feet most of the day, earning your salary. At a restaurant, you either slave over a stove cooking other peoples' meals or you serve those people their meals. Again, you're on your feet most of the day, earning your salary through sweat and, some say, talent. At a corporate business, you deal with clients, coworkers, computers, and usually need some sort of degree from college. Any type of job that you go to school for is considered a "real" job.
Well, the only schooling you need for this job is an eight hour course on CPR/first aid and another eight hour class on med passing. Plus, you get paid to take those classes, instead of you having to pay for them. I've actually had people tell me, "well you have it easy! it's not even a real job." Well, I consider it a "real" job. I have specific things that I do each day. I do bookwork every day. I am on my feet for quite a few hours at a time. I have specific rules that I must follow. What about that is not a "real" job?

Is it really so great?

Well I'm going to fast forward a bit, without as much detail. After working with those wonderful, and yes, I'll admit, sometimes stressful, ladies for about a month, one of my bosses called me into her office. When I was initially hired, they were planning on using me as a driver. Basically to take the ladies to doctor appointments and on outings. That was why I was working at two different houses. Now that I was trained at both houses, they wanted to get me going as a driver. However, I have a horrible driving record. So they were "forced" to put me on part time. And on a graveyard shift. At a totally different house. Well that didn't fly. I did that for a month before I figured out that I couldn't keep working three nights a week. So I quit.
I'm not sure if I realized how much this job affected me. In fact, I'm positive that I didn't realize it. I moved on and got a job at an inbound call center. For the first two months, I didn't mind it. Because I was just in training. But once I got on the phones with real people and had to listen to their bitching for eight hours a day, I went crazy. Can you imagine listening to someone lie to you just so that they don't have to pay for something, and you can't call them on their lie? You have to listen to them and assume that they are telling the truth. Even though there is no possible way they could be telling the truth. Oh God. I don't know how people do it. But when someone is yelling at me because their cell phone bill is so high and blaming me for it, I can barely hold my tongue. So, obviously, I quit.
I'm a big fan of looking for a job on the internet. That way, I can chill on my couch, in my pajamas, listen to music or watch TV, or both at the same time, and surf the internet while I apply for dozens of jobs. I don't have to dress nice and do my hair just to walk into a place of business, get an application, and walk out, all within a minute or so. That way, I can wait to dress nice for the interview, when I know I'll be seeing someone important and will be staying for more than a minute.
Anyways, like I said, that job must have hit somewhere deep because when I started applying for a job, I began looking for health care related jobs. I was already CPR/first aid certified. I was already med certified. And I had a little bit of experience. The first one that I got an interview at was an old folks home. Not ideal, but it worked. Needless to say, I didn't get that job. Not too much of a bummer. Luckily, it didn't take me long to get an interview at the job I now have.
The first time I arrived at the office wasn't an interview. But the lady on the phone had explained that I was just picking up some papers and when I came and dropped them off a few days later, then I would have an interview. Within those few days as I filled out the stack of papers, I began to get a little nervous. First of all, I had to explain in detail about the underage drinking ticket that I had received in April. And although all businesses say that something like that won't effect whether you get hired or not, you know it probably will. Second of all, was I remembering my first experience at this kind of job correctly? Did I really enjoy it as much as I thought I did? Or was I just making it seem better because I had hated the call center job so badly? However, I returned for my interview.
It went extremely well. I say that because I got hired on the spot. She asked what kind of shift I wanted. I got it. I even got to go to the most high functioning house. Plus, I had orientation the next day and started at the house two days after that. I just prayed that I really did enjoy this kind of work and I had just played it all up in my head.

A little bit of trust.

I left off describing some of the clients that I worked with. Those three were living at the apartment. Then there were two who lived at the house that I worked at.
One of them, I'll call her Marcy. She was short, with curly hair. She wore thick glasses and need braces to walk. But she didn't like wearing them. When she refused to wear them, we had to watch her carefully to make sure she didn't fall down. Marcy was extremely smart. My boss told me that when she started working, Marcy was the one who told her about a lot of the routines and the people that had worked there before. Marcy could also be quite malipulative and also depressed at times.
The other one was almost completely paralyzed. When she was sixteen, she had been riding a horse, fallen off, and had been paralyzed. She could not speak and she was in a wheel chair. We'll call her Tara. She was also extremely smart. She loved to joke and when she laughed, her mouth would curve up into a smile, her eyes would close, and she would belt out a laugh. It was amazing. She was completely dependent on us.
One of my worst experiences at this house happened after only two weeks. I was called in a little early to go to the house in the morning, instead of the apartment. The normal morning staff had to take Tara to a doctor's appointment, so I would be at the house with just Marcy for a few hours. Which was fine. I figured she would eat breakfast, take her meds, and we could watch TV. But it wasn't going to be that easy. When I got there, the other staff member told me that Marcy was still asleep and didn't want to get up. After they left, I tried talking to Marcy. She refused to get up.
About an hour went by and she needed to take her meds. Finally, she got up and made herself some cereal. Marcy was very independent in taking her meds. I had seen her do in many times. So I let her do it. Then she went back into her room. Another hour went by and she came out and told me that she had a stomach ache. After asking her what exactly was wrong, she told me that she had taken too many meds. I think I kind of freaked out. I got out the meds and saw that she had taken not only that morning's meds, but also the next morning's. I made a ton of calls to my boss, a doctor, a nurse, and a pharmacist. I filled out a lot of paperwork. And I didn't talk to Marcy the whole time.
I found out later that Marcy was known for testing new staff. That was her test for me. And I must have passed because after that, she apologized and never tried to pull anything when I was there again. It also taught me that no matter how independent someone is, it is always smart to double check because, especially in Marcy's case, you never know what someone will try. Especially someone who's brain works a little bit different.
That last week that I worked at that house, almost a month later, a new girl came into the house. She was tiny. Not even one hundred pounds. She has bright orange hair and tons of freckles. She wore glasses and was eighteen years old and attended an alternative school. She was epilieptic and prone to violence. I only worked with her for a week, but in that week she seemed just like any other high school girl.
Every single one of the ladies that I worked with at this company made an impression on me. I learned a lot from every single one. They didn't try to judge me or pretend to be something other than what they were. They couldn't hide anything from me because I knew every single thing about them and their history and their problems. I knew how they grew up and what medication they were on and why. And they trusted me to take care of them and to help them live. And I trusted them in one way or anther.

Real people too.

I believe I left off on my very first day at this new job. Well I'm not going to go into specific detail of every little thing that happened that day, or any of the following days. What I'm going to do now is describe some of the clients that I worked with.
First, the woman that opened the door for me at the apartment on that first day. She was short, with short brown hair and a cute, little girl type of smile. She was kind of shy and would giggle lightly when a joke was made. She had her own cell phone that she prepaid on, with money that she got from the state, and you would always see her texting. Who she was always texting, I have no idea. I never asked. She was also a smoker. She would smoke more than anyone I have ever met. She got a cigarette an hour. If she smoked more than that, she would run out of cigarettes and then she would be mad. One thing that really surprised me about this woman(she was in her thirties) was that she had a young son. I can't remember if she had been married or if it had just been a boyfriend, but whichever it had been, he had her son with him and she rarely got to see him. She had a dream of one day getting her son full time.
The other young girl who was at the apartment when I got there the first day was bedridden. She had cerebral palsy. Originally she was in a wheel chair. But only a few weeks before I started working, she got a new chair and got a cist on her butt, so she was bedridden until it was healed. She had a nurse come in every week to clean the cist and rebandage it. There was a tube coming out of it to drain the fluids to help it heal. Because of this cist, and because she was always in her bed, unmoving, we had to shift her position every hour or so. If there were two staff working, we could carry her into the living room and set her on two bean bag chairs so she could watch TV. This girl(who was also in her thirties but looked like she was in her teens because she was so skinny) was one of the happiest people I've ever met. She loved music and loved talking. During my four hour shift, I could spend almost all of it in her room talking to her, if it had been allowed. She did haven a hoyer that we were supposed to use, but when there were two staff working, it was faster to carry her. That was probably a violation of the rules, but we never cared.
The third roomate really was a young girl. She was only eighteen and a senior at the local high school, in the special ed program. She got on the bus every morning at six and came home on the bus every day at three. So when I worked mornings at the apartment, I never saw her. But if I worked weekends, she would be there. She was tall, but had problems with her right(or it could have been her left, I don't remember exactly) hip and had had many surgeries. She walked with somewhat of a limp. She also had down syndrome and you could see it in her face. But she had one of the prettiest smiles and she would laugh over the silliest things. She was exceptionally smart and was excited about graduating. Whenever I worked with her, she would insist we watch the Disney Channel. If she played in her room, she wanted me to come with her and she would show me her music and her toys.
These three roomates almost always got along. The first woman, whom I'll call Elise, would get mad at the third girl, whom I'll call Samantha, for the smallest things. I honestly cannot even remember what she would get mad about. But they both loved the second girl, whom I'll call Cassie. The few times I worked evenings there, I would let them eat dinner in Cassie's room so that she didn't have to eat alone like usual. I once worked an evening when two girls from another house came over for dinner and everyone gathered around the table, and we brought Cassie out so that she could eat with everyone. These were times when she couldn't stop smiling.
To be continued . . .