mail from Canada

Current Mood: handy
Current Music: "A Trick of the Tale" by Genesis

Okay, it's been brought to my attention today at lunch that perhaps some of you are less than pleased with my posting habits this summer. You certainly made that clear with your numerous comments of support and encouragement.

Anyway- it's my journal, and I'll write whatever I want whenever I want. So there.

I'm going to talk about my work.


This summer, I've returned to Mount Washington Care Center, a nursing care facility where I work in the kitchen. I started working there in August of my junior year of high school (2002) when I was 16. I was the smallest and youngest employee ever to be considered for the position. My father grew up with the manager of the facility (Ken) and arranged an interview, but I took it from there. I worked there for almost two full years, with raises and outlasting several new employees. I worked generally around 20 to 25 hours a week after school and on weekends, along with my AP classes and flight lessons. I left January 2004 for medical reasons and declined to return for the summer before college. Ken, as well as the kitchen boss Mike told me when I left that I was one of the best employees they'd ever worked with and that I could return whenever I wanted.

Fast forward a small amount of time, to this summer. I wanted a sweet engineering job, something related to my major (even an entry position), but even the word "Purdue" on your resume doesn't open many doors when all you've had is basic calculus and physics. So, rather than not working all summer (a fun option, but considering the cost of out of state schooling, not a practical one), I opted to return. Crawling back to my old high school job wasn't exactly something I was excited about, but a job is a job, and I didn't really feel like searching for something else.

(I will admit that I naively assumed that at school, they'd line up the engineers and hand out work assignments for the summer. I'm not going to lie...our school revolves around engineers. Imagine my surprise when, just before spring break, everybody else has a resume and is applying for internships, co-ops, and research positions...and I'm still wondering what to do. I know, nobody's fault but mine. Don't cry for me.)


A quick look at my options:

Old job:
*relatively used to the inns and outs of the job
*most of the same staff (especially in the kitchen)
*good pay, free food
*virtually no work to get the job back
*dealing with the same old shit I left
*not feeling like I'm moving forward
*working in a hot kitchen over the summer

New job:
*lots of time and energy looking for, applying for, getting, training for, and getting used to
*new people, new place, new shit to deal with
*potential pay cut
*must pay for my own food
*not escaping any real customer service (probably), not really getting closer to my major
*don't want to work anyway
*potential awkward situation for running into high school friends


It was a choice between bad and worse, really. I wasn't enthused about going back...hell, I dreaded it. But I need money, badly, and I considered it the best thing to do given my current situation. I went back to see Ken a week or so after I got home (early May), and he told me when I could start. I was very nervous, but after the first few days it all came back. It was like I'd never left.

I got sick of "hey, haven't seen you in a while" and "how was school" and "you look taller" real fast. I didn't have the time or energy to explain to everybody my life since I'd left, and for some reason it really started to bother me. Surgery, graduation, high school, college, improv, engineering...it wasn't something that I could just sum up, like "hell, college was a blast...too bad I don't remember it because I was drunk!". In fact, most people were probably expecting that.

Now, over the summer (until August 3rd), I'm working on average 40 to 45 hours, and I can't wait to leave. There's only a little bit more time left before I'm gone, and I don't want to ever go back. The only thing that keeps me going sometimes, is telling myself that it's only for a little while longer, and that it's the best thing I can do right now in between semesters. I really will try harder to find something next summer that is engineering...mechanics...aerospace...something that I can put on my resume to start building it up. Even if I have to take a pay cut, and lose the food...I'm ready.

I make very good money at my job. I started at 8 dollars an hour, and I'm now at 8.32 with an extra .25 cents on weekends and nights (when I usually work anyway). Every meal the kitchen staff gets leftovers, which saves me money, and it's only 17 minutes away, which means that I don't spend a lot of time or gas to get there.

That's pretty much the best part. I spend my spare time at work trying to count hours, figure out how much I make per minute, or each shift, or how much my next paycheck will be. And that's a bad way to go about your day.

I do derive some sort of self satisfaction from my job, don't get me wrong. I'm damn good at what I do. I've been doing it for almost three years, and even though I'm the smallest guy and the second youngest, I'm one of the most experienced. I know where everything is, where everything goes, and I finish every job I'm told to do...even if it means staying late, even if something breaks, even if somebody else quits. I'm a very hard worker and I know exactly what I need to do each day I go in. I can work other people's shifts to help out, and I know exactly what I can and can't skip in a hurry. I've never been late since I've been back (clocked in early every time but once, even), and I've only called off once (because my car was totaled, and I was very sore).

I take care of elderly residents. I serve food to people who sometimes can't feed themselves, who don't know they're diabetic, who can't chew their food, who don't know when dinner time is. Part of my job is to interact with these people in a friendly, courteous, helpful way, and I'd like to think I do exactly that. I go home each day knowing that I'm doing something that's important. I care about the people I serve, and I feel good knowing I do a good job helping them eat balanced, healthy, and safe meals...meals they might not otherwise get.

It's difficult, though. Extremely difficult. I guess I can handle the physical aspect well enough, but mentally, emotionally, it's a drain on me every day. Nothing ever changes there. I leave for a year, and I jump right back, and we're still on the same four week four season meal cycle. Nevermind that I'm bored as hell, and that doing my job is not mentally stimulating at all, but it's depressing.

The "activities" that entertain our residents are as generic and stereotypical as you can imagine. Elvis impersonators (yes, I can tell you who is and who isn't good), daily bingo, Lassie and Bonnanza reruns, and the occasional ice cream party is as wild as it gets around there. Sometimes, they take bus trips to River Downs or Argosy Casino, but of course I'm not allowed to go.


I guess the root of it is that I walk in every single day at work and look at the frailty of human life. It's a daily reminder that people get old, no matter what. Big surprise, I know, but I imagine it's *similar* to being an undertaker or working in a funeral parlor. Every day I get updates on who's in the hospital (broken hips, usually), who's been put on hospice (generally less than 6 months to live), and who has passed away. We get new residents, and everybody smiles and doesn't talk about it...but I know. I've seen almost the entire dining room change at one time or another.

I've seen one resident from the day she entered the facility. She was cheerful, slightly confused, but a nice person to serve meals to. A few weeks later she had a stroke, and went from regular food to a puree, and had to be fed. Her physical condition deteriorated quite quickly after that. A few weeks later she passed away.
*blink*
I'd seen somebody brand new come and go, and I was one of the last people to talk to them. Not even their family came. It took less time for them to come and go than for me to finish a quarter at school.

The wrinkles, the gray hair, the wheelchairs...the incredibly slow speed at which everything takes place. Everybody has glasses, nobody wants the food I give them, and everybody says my music is too loud. I've long since gotten used to the mothball smell.

The physical deterioration is one thing. The mental decay of an elderly resident is another matter entirely. Dementia, Alzheimer's, and other aging diseases set in. Some people are progressive...they start to forget what day it is, or what meal we're on, and then later, they forget where they are, or what they like to drink. Soon, they ask me to take them "home" and insist that I'm not helping them when I tell them they are "home". It breaks my heart. Some people are just fine one day, talking about the Reds or some other topic, and the next day they confuse me with their grandson. Families never visit, and I get attached to the residents. It's frustrating, it's depressing, and it's awful. But everyday I manage to put on a smile and to the best that I can.

Once, we had a woman in the dining room that didn't really talk to anybody...not the staff, not the other residents, but I always asked her how she was, and she largely ignored me. I just made her coffee, two cream, two sugar, and got her ice water. For months she ate in relative silence. Some time later, she passed away, and her daughter actually sought me out to tell me that her mother always told her how wonderful her coffee was. That she always said I made it just right, and that I'd made a difference in that woman's last bit of life. I wanted to cry.


A kitchen is not a fun place to be. There's lot of sharp, hot, and/or painful devices within that get used all day long, and need to be cleaned, maintenanced, and organized. Not to mention that it's hot. In the summer, it's extremely hot. The heat and humidity outside, the steam tables, hotplates, dish machine, it all adds up. I have to wear a polo and pants for a safe and professional uniform. I work very hard for every shift I'm there. There's always something to be done, from lifting boxes and stacking dishes, to serving food and making desserts. It's a very demanding job, physically. I have to work with food and with customers. It's like working a cashier's job (without the money) and putting up with all of that bullshit, and working in a restaurant.

The early shift is from 7 am to 3:30 pm, which covers opening, breakfast, and lunch. The late shift runs from 3:30 pm to close, which is generally around 8:30 pm, and includes dinner and cleaning the kitchen after a day of work. We have anywhere from 100 to 140 residents, depending on the census. I have three different jobs I'm scheduled to do, in order of most frequent to least:

*Dishwasher
Serve drinks to the entire dining room for each meal, wash all of the dishes, and clean the dishroom

*Dining Room
Set up dining room (tablecloths, napkins, silverware, cups, etc.), help with 2nd spot on trayline, and clean dining room, as well as the main portion of the kitchen

*Kitchen Help
Work on 3rd spot of trayline, serve right half of meals to the dining room, and put away all the clean dishes

Of course, each one includes several smaller tasks, but that's the general idea. Setting up the dining room takes about 45 minutes, and dishes take anywhere from 1.5 to 2.5 hours, depending on the meal. Salads and ice cream on Sunday night is pretty much the fastest, easiest meal. Macaroni and cheese, stewed tomatoes, and blueberry pie is probably the worst. Most meals are somewhere in between. I generally work late shifts, which means I have to sweep and mop the entire kitchen as part of closing. I'm also Mike's right-hand man when it comes to training. Brenda, Wendy, and Bill all have told me that I'm a very good worker and that I know what I'm doing, which is a great feeling.

I don't hate my job. It's just difficult, and sometimes it gets to me.


My last day that I can potentially work is August 3rd. Sis's birthday is the 5th, I move back to Purdue on the 10th, and my new job starts on the 11th at 10 am. I'll be working at the main office of Hillenbrand Hall (downstairs, basically). I'll be sorting mail, answering phones, and doing all sorts of faxing, copying...y'know, office stuff. It's not glamorous, it's not any closer to my major, and I'm taking a pay cut. I'm afraid that it will cut into my time enough to effect my grades. Still, there's a chance it will force me to really organize my time, and give me some spending money for the school year (good, because I like to be able to go to the movies or out to eat at least a little bit). I'll be dealing with customers, but I think I'll be able to handle it. Uniform doesn't change much either. *shrug* Just another job...