Monday, March 5, 2007
The Employment Chronicles
And you thought you had a bad job. This guy is collecting dead fish out of Kankaria Lake in Ahmedabad, western India. What happened?
Pollution. But not the usual sort. They say "the ritual immersion of Hindu Ganesha elephant deity idols made from plaster of paris and chemical dyes contaminated the water during a recent festival."
Nah, son. I had a job that was even worse than that. I loved it though. Peep this.
Okay, before I became a social worker, I had quite a
few jobs that sucked. A lot of them ( in fact All of
them) revolved around health, and persons with
The job I had prior to this was called "Senior
Employment Specialist". My duties included, teaching
those with developmental disabilities( just follow me
folks), creating and finding suitable employment for
them. So basically I taught a class, helped out people
with mental retardation carry out their everyday
business and try to find them a job.
I had this one client. Let's call him A. A had a
disease called Prader Willi, which basically means he
was overweight, and didn't have the appropriate
mechanism in his brain to tell him he was full, thus
allowing him to eat soooooo much that he stomach could
literally pop. A was about 5'2, and 315lbs, and was
the most lovable person you ever met. He had moderate
mental retardation, and didn't speak much. I always
talked to him in Spanish ( he and his family were from
Argentina), and he would speak back to me in English.
The job was quite rewarding and I loved it, bu I was
NOT making enough to deal with the shit (read further,
and you'll understand why that's a joke) that I had to
deal with. The job became more and more unbearable.
As I said before, A didn't talk much, so he didn't
communicate with me the way he should have, or was
capable of doing. For instance. There was
this one time that we were in my car. He was unable
(and shit, so the fuck was I for that matter ) to take
the bus, so he rode around with me (along with another
client) in my car. Anyway we were in my car, and we
were havin' a good ole' time. We had just had lunch,
and because the summer of '05 was a a HOT one ( it
averaged 114 degrees) we had lunch in my car, with the
air and radio on. He was laughin' and nodding his head
to the music, and before we knew it, it was time for
him to go home. So, he rolls up the window (yes,
ROLLS up the window. Nothing in my car is automatic,
not even the transmission), unlocks the door, and gets
up to get out. As I'm saying by to him, I notice
something in my seat that looks like a cross between
thick chili, and a melted chocolate bar. Wait. Pause.
Me: A, did you have an uh, "accident" honey? Why
didn't you tell me you had to use the bathroom, dear?
I woulda ...
Me: Ah, shit (pun fully intended).
I don't know why I thought about that story, or decided to post it, but golly, was that shit nasty.
If you're interested (which it don't look like ya'll is cosiderin' ya'll don't say a damn thang in the comments section) I can tell you some more horrid stories. I have some far worse than that.