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.
--
Plates are stacked. The steamtable holds buttered vegetables and rice and slabs of fish. The constant whir of the oven and the overhead fans mingles with banter on the radio. That's when the phone rings.
"Kitchen, Emily speaking."
"Emily!" excitement radiates from the voice on the other end. It's one of the residents, who I'll call Elf (like the movie). She's 50-something, but because of some developmental issue has remained about seven years old in her heart and mind.
"Hi, Elf," I reply, a grin growing on my face as I wait for a flood of questions, a whimsical change of mind, or an attack of joyous gusto. I am met with all three.
"It's mahi mahi today, Emily."
"Yes it is."
"I love mahi mahi. Do you love mahi mahi?"
"Yeah, it's pretty good."
"Well, I'm excited, Emily. You guys make the best mahi mahi. My sister makes it, too...last time I was at her house..."
And five minutes later, still smiling, I hang up the phone. What a refreshing change from bitter and cranky and demanding.
Unfortunately, even Elf is not immune to the bitter judgment of the people we serve.
Here's how it was told to me.
It was about a week ago at supper. She was seated with a stellar team:
Crankster, a bitter impatient resident who becomes incensed at the drop of a pin.
All-Star, the self-appointed chairperson of all things that are and are not her business.
Crafty, a manipulative and spoiled person who loves to stir the pot.
So there's Elf, eating an enchilada, raving about its gloriousness, asking questions and sharing stories like any happy seven-year old might do. She doesn't read the condescension on All-Star's face or the sheer hatred and rage of Crankster at being seated with her. Crafty no doubt is beginning to circle, like a vulture patiently waiting for a carcass.
Then she asks for seconds of the glorious enchilada, and that's when the hyenas pounce. She's raving again about this cheese enchilada when Crankster loses what little patience she had with her.
"Shut up. Just shut up. You are an idiot. You are a slow moron and you should not be living here with us," she declares to the seven-year-old heart of the woman next to her.
I wish I'd been there to tell Crankster to go to her room and think about what she's done and to look Elf in the eyes and tell her that none of that is true and don't believe it. It's like a kindergarten class in there.
But the hatefulness didn't end with Crankster's declaration of spite. No. It was just getting started. All-Star decided it was her place to advise Elf on her dieting choice (eating two enchiladas! oh no!!) and Crafty assisted. They followed her back to her room and lectured her at her apartment door for a while before trying to wedge their way in the door after her to continue their advisory committee on her life choices.
It's like we need lunchroom monitors and hall monitors to make sure residents are respecting each other's choices, privacy, and safety. The way they do in elementary schools and high schools.
Elf was completely destroyed. She hid in her room for the next week. Our administrator approved her for room trays at all meals, no charge, so she could avoid the bullies at her table. And then I believe Administrator had each bully into her office (the Principal's Office) to discuss their completely inappropriate behavior.
I wish they could get detention or get charged for verbal assault or be required to do community service. Something.
Elf's back in the dining room this month, now that we're on a new seating chart. She's placed at a table with Mr. and Mrs. Claus. They are so gracious and twinkly-eyed, so good natured and patient. They'll be sweet to her.
I saw her a couple days ago in the hallway before lunch.
"Emily!!" she called. "I'm so happy I can come down to dinner now." As in, so happy she can go without worrying about getting attacked.
"And look at this treeee!!" she exclaimed, gesturing to one of the ten or twenty glittery pines in the building. Her voice held so much reverence, like she'd never seen a Christmas tree before. "Wooow," she murmured, eyes wide, studying the lights and poinsettias, seeming to forget last week's hurts.
Showing posts with label Bullies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bullies. Show all posts
Saturday, December 3, 2016
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Episode 7: Wanderburg and the Bullies
for a preface, see the home page of my work stories: Paradise (aka The Job)
It's breakfast time and I'm headed down the hall with a cart full of food. There's scrambled eggs and home fries, straight from the oven. There's milk and bananas and a stack of plates that keep clinking violently together. I'm on a mission...when I meet with an obstacle. It's Wanderburg, taking his time en route to a comfortable chair. I suppose old joints and old muscles and a lack of urgency in his schedule all make him prone to ambling. I slow my cart to a stop and wait patiently for him to get some headway. I know exactly where he's going. It's all part of his schedule.
Wanderburg usually begins the day in a chair in the main lobby, head to one side, snoozing. After awhile he wanders into breakfast where he rarely says more than one syllable at a time, and usually with an expression of bewilderment, as though he's just woken up and doesn't know where he is. He eats, says nothing to his fellow residents, and then scoots back out to the halls to wander. He'll stop in the kitchen and ask to have a burger for dinner. Then he heads for the other end of the building to another soft chair and falls asleep again.
Lately he was diagnosed with a contagious colon infection, so staff were required to wear gowns and gloves in his room, which were stored outside the door. Kitchen staff wore gloves and took care not to come in contact with his dishes and to sanitize anything he touched. No doubt other residents noticed these things, and gossip surrounding Wanderburg has been the topic of late among the residents, even though he is now no longer considered contagious.
Some residents tried to have him removed from the facility. Others requested to never be seated near him ever at meal times. Others simply shared whatever rumors they could about him at the breakfast table. Apparently it got so bad that several residents went to the administrator on Wanderburg's behalf to ask for an end to what had gotten out of control. The decision was made to have the administrator and several staff meet with the named Bullies and put a stop to it. The Bullies have also been required to sit with Wanderburg at his table this coming month. This all seems pretty just.
However, the sad part is that any of those things had to be done. It's disappointing to see members of what's called "The Greatest Generation" treating each other so poorly, displaying so little depth of character, and showing so little maturity. The hot topic in schools these days has been bullying, ending bullying, parents against bullying, etc. We all nod our heads, agreeing that children are brutal and need to be taught how to respect others. It's sad to witness people who haven't physically been children for 60+ years but are still acting like brutal third graders, needing someone to teach them what it means to respect another human being, no matter that person's level of popularity.
On the upside, there's a portion who know how to be adults and didn't sit idly by. They took action to make a change and defend another person from the Bullies. As I grow up, I want to be one of them.
It has been said that "the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing" (Edmund Burke, paraphrased), and it's good to know there's at least a few good ones out there doing something about what's wrong out there.
It's breakfast time and I'm headed down the hall with a cart full of food. There's scrambled eggs and home fries, straight from the oven. There's milk and bananas and a stack of plates that keep clinking violently together. I'm on a mission...when I meet with an obstacle. It's Wanderburg, taking his time en route to a comfortable chair. I suppose old joints and old muscles and a lack of urgency in his schedule all make him prone to ambling. I slow my cart to a stop and wait patiently for him to get some headway. I know exactly where he's going. It's all part of his schedule.
Wanderburg usually begins the day in a chair in the main lobby, head to one side, snoozing. After awhile he wanders into breakfast where he rarely says more than one syllable at a time, and usually with an expression of bewilderment, as though he's just woken up and doesn't know where he is. He eats, says nothing to his fellow residents, and then scoots back out to the halls to wander. He'll stop in the kitchen and ask to have a burger for dinner. Then he heads for the other end of the building to another soft chair and falls asleep again.
Lately he was diagnosed with a contagious colon infection, so staff were required to wear gowns and gloves in his room, which were stored outside the door. Kitchen staff wore gloves and took care not to come in contact with his dishes and to sanitize anything he touched. No doubt other residents noticed these things, and gossip surrounding Wanderburg has been the topic of late among the residents, even though he is now no longer considered contagious.
Some residents tried to have him removed from the facility. Others requested to never be seated near him ever at meal times. Others simply shared whatever rumors they could about him at the breakfast table. Apparently it got so bad that several residents went to the administrator on Wanderburg's behalf to ask for an end to what had gotten out of control. The decision was made to have the administrator and several staff meet with the named Bullies and put a stop to it. The Bullies have also been required to sit with Wanderburg at his table this coming month. This all seems pretty just.
However, the sad part is that any of those things had to be done. It's disappointing to see members of what's called "The Greatest Generation" treating each other so poorly, displaying so little depth of character, and showing so little maturity. The hot topic in schools these days has been bullying, ending bullying, parents against bullying, etc. We all nod our heads, agreeing that children are brutal and need to be taught how to respect others. It's sad to witness people who haven't physically been children for 60+ years but are still acting like brutal third graders, needing someone to teach them what it means to respect another human being, no matter that person's level of popularity.
On the upside, there's a portion who know how to be adults and didn't sit idly by. They took action to make a change and defend another person from the Bullies. As I grow up, I want to be one of them.
It has been said that "the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing" (Edmund Burke, paraphrased), and it's good to know there's at least a few good ones out there doing something about what's wrong out there.
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