People are people, no matter their age. Some will be kind, curious, rude, condescending, bitter, or funny, and so on. I’m an “old people chef,” and this is my journal.
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It should not have surprised me when a couple resident assistants approached me at 9:15 and said that Crafty had just called to change her lunch order. I explained about the deadline (9:00), and we all agreed that Crafty had called them because she hoped they wouldn't know about the deadline.
Then about 11 a.m., she showed up with a new list of alternatives for the week, including the change she had attempted at 9:15. It was still too late, and I just shook my head at her further clumsy attempt at gaining exception where no other resident could.
She had requested her meal sent to her room, so at noon the tray with her salad went up. About ten minutes later, I had the delight of receiving a phone call from her.
"When I talked to you earlier, you said I could have a hot dog," her indignant words bit through the receiver.
"You did not talk to me. You spoke with the gals on the floor."
"Well, they told me I could have it." Her indignation was growing, and the grating scrape of her voice rising in volume.
"Then they were mistaken. And you know that the deadline is 9:00. You had ordered a salad and so that's what we sent."
"Well," she screeched, "I WON'T EAT IT!"
As if it was going to really bother me. We all know she has piles of junk food in her apartment.
"I'm very sorry," I stated, and hung up before she could continue.
Later she accused the RAs of not supplying her daily pain pills - as in, she wanted double pain meds.
Then she screamed at someone in her room that she had never received her noon meal - even as it was visible on its tray across the room on her countertop.
Crafty was on a roll.
Now today she left a note asking to please be moved from Table 1 to Table 9. We change seating monthly and we do not change seats unless there is serious conflict between two residents at a particular table (which has happened maybe three times in the last year). I tore up the note as I've torn many others. It was a surprise to see that she didn't swap her place card with one at her desired table. That has happened many times before.
The fact that these things are even issues boggles me. Screaming at someone about a salad. Bold faced lying about a salad. Acting like deadlines apply to the other 69 people in the building and not to you.
Over a salad.
If it wasn't real, it'd be sheer comedy.
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