Page Forty-Five.
When you're self-employed you hesitate to say no to any work. As a hairdresser, I've done hair as early as 7AM and as late as 2.30AM just because that's when my clients needed me.
The 7AM client called me, sort of last minute, and explained that he had an early meeting the next day. (This must've been about 1993.) Literally, the only time we both had was 7AM, just prior to his meeting. So, I did it. I wasn't happy about waking up at that hour and doing hair, but when that's the only time that works, you do it.
The 2.30AM haircut was a little bit more entertaining. Let's say this was in oh, say, 1990. I was out late-night on a Saturday evening, when I happened to run into my closest buddy, Blackie, his girlfriend, Madge, and another very good friend of ours, Drew. The four of us hung out for a while and then Blackie announces that he needs me to cut his hair, "NOW!" I really argued with him. "It's 1.30 in the morning. By the time we get back to my place it'll be way after 2. Do you really want me doing your haircut at 2.30AM after I've been up all day?
"I don't care. I trust you."
"Jerk!"
"Thanks, Jeremy."
So we all went back to my place, the third floor of the nice, quiet, sound asleep Shapiro home. We all tried to be as quiet as mice while stomping up many flights of wooden steps. When we got to my bedroom, which was directly over the Shapiro's master suite, I did instruct everyone to be quiet and they mostly were. Madge, the poor thing, promptly went to sleep on my bed. However, Drew got a bit obnoxious and began making crude jokes, which, of course, got Blackie riled up. But I finished and everybody left without too much incident. The next day Lena told me that we did wake her up, but only for a moment.
When you're self-employed, you never have enough work. I'm convinced of that. I'm pretty lucky in that I've always been busy enough, regardless of the decade, that somehow the bills do gets paid though. Occasionally, over the years I've pulled the rent check out of a hat, for sure. But the fact that the hat appears at all is the miracle. Between hair, food prep, child-care, elder-care and house-sitting/dog-sitting/cat-sitting I'm diverse enough that self-employment is always a viable option for me. I'm very grateful for that.
One of these days I'll write about the time that I informed Blackie that he got Madge pregnant.
Showing posts with label Elder-Care. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Elder-Care. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
The Flyers of 1982
Page Thirty.
On page twenty-nine, I referenced some flyers I put out in '82. Let's chat about those today.
I'd been living with the Van Myms for a few months. and was still quite new at Salon: Alpha-Omega, having just started there in July of '81. I had no money. Let's repeat that. I HAD NO MONEY. One more time with vigor... BROKE!!! And I was twenty years old.
What are all the things that a twenty year old can do to earn money? Just for fun, let's list, comprehensively:
1) prostitution
2) drug sales
3) steal
4) beg
5) become pope
6) become a major movie actor
7) become president
8) landscape
9) child-care
10) paint
11) clean
12) odd jobs
13) sell shoes
That's it. Nothing else. I researched thoroughly. There were no other things. Now, let's go down this list, shall we? Numbers 1-4, seemed unsavory, just not my style; 5-7, I was certainly qualified for these positions but upper management didn't think so, else I would've gotten the jobs; 8, well... I hate doing yard work; 9, I was a live-in nanny so I didn't think more kids would be kind to my soul; 10, 11 and 12, I could do; 13, not interested.
So... how does one go about getting jobs painting, cleaning and doing odd jobs? The Van Myms told me I should make up a flyer advertising myself, then she would make copies at work. I could then put them in neighbors' front doors and wait for the phone to ring. So I did, then she did, then I did, then it did. She printed up four hundred flyers, of which I put out about three hundred seventy five. I still have the remainders. It's really a lousy flyer - very amateurish - but not too many neighbors seemed to care, apparently. Honestly, I didn't get that many responses, but the ones I did get really made a difference in my life.
As previously mentioned, Dr. Hanson's wife responded and inquired about elder-care. I also got a few responses for cleaning and painting, (I've been told that I'm a good cleaner and painter). I received a few unexpected phone calls for party help!?!? Gee, where would that lead? As these things went out in July, there were the phone calls for yard work. I didn't want them but accepted them. I also got a number of calls for child care. The child care I absolutely said no to. After I explained why, most people understood; that is, all did except for one lady named Lena. That's a separate story. Brother, is that a story!
I'd employ the flyer concept again, later in life. Sometimes you just have to let people know you exist.
On page twenty-nine, I referenced some flyers I put out in '82. Let's chat about those today.
I'd been living with the Van Myms for a few months. and was still quite new at Salon: Alpha-Omega, having just started there in July of '81. I had no money. Let's repeat that. I HAD NO MONEY. One more time with vigor... BROKE!!! And I was twenty years old.
What are all the things that a twenty year old can do to earn money? Just for fun, let's list, comprehensively:
1) prostitution
2) drug sales
3) steal
4) beg
5) become pope
6) become a major movie actor
7) become president
8) landscape
9) child-care
10) paint
11) clean
12) odd jobs
13) sell shoes
That's it. Nothing else. I researched thoroughly. There were no other things. Now, let's go down this list, shall we? Numbers 1-4, seemed unsavory, just not my style; 5-7, I was certainly qualified for these positions but upper management didn't think so, else I would've gotten the jobs; 8, well... I hate doing yard work; 9, I was a live-in nanny so I didn't think more kids would be kind to my soul; 10, 11 and 12, I could do; 13, not interested.
So... how does one go about getting jobs painting, cleaning and doing odd jobs? The Van Myms told me I should make up a flyer advertising myself, then she would make copies at work. I could then put them in neighbors' front doors and wait for the phone to ring. So I did, then she did, then I did, then it did. She printed up four hundred flyers, of which I put out about three hundred seventy five. I still have the remainders. It's really a lousy flyer - very amateurish - but not too many neighbors seemed to care, apparently. Honestly, I didn't get that many responses, but the ones I did get really made a difference in my life.
As previously mentioned, Dr. Hanson's wife responded and inquired about elder-care. I also got a few responses for cleaning and painting, (I've been told that I'm a good cleaner and painter). I received a few unexpected phone calls for party help!?!? Gee, where would that lead? As these things went out in July, there were the phone calls for yard work. I didn't want them but accepted them. I also got a number of calls for child care. The child care I absolutely said no to. After I explained why, most people understood; that is, all did except for one lady named Lena. That's a separate story. Brother, is that a story!
I'd employ the flyer concept again, later in life. Sometimes you just have to let people know you exist.
Friday, December 14, 2012
On Becoming An Activities Professional
Page Ten.
As somebody who gets bored easily, I tend to collect professions, and education.
In the summer of 1998 I'd just finished school... again. This time with a B.A. (my second) in Art History. I enjoyed learning about Art History very much and found it a useful tool. With it, I imagined, I'd be the perfect party guest. With my first B.A. (Interpersonal Communications) I learned to speak with almost anyone. Now with this second degree I had something to speak about. After all, just about everybody likes art, right? So my two degrees prepared me to be a great dinner party conversationalist. I was thrilled.
Dinner party conversationalists can get paid a lot of money too, if they attend the right parties. Therein lies the problem. I didn't attend the right parties. So I became a hairdresser.
I've been a licensed hairdoer since 1981 and occasionally find myself actually doing hair. Such was the case in the summer of '98 after graduating. It was really a case of "nothing else to do, so I'll go do hair."
That particular salon, the one where I worked from summer '98 to summer '99, is a separate story; but come spring of '99 I was getting antsy.I really wasn't looking to leave, but I was getting bored; I simply needed some additional incentive to wake up in the morning. In one of my "flashes of inspiration" I decided to go to a hospital near my home and start volunteering. Innocent enough, right?
So I called University Hospitals of Cleveland which is four blocks closer to me than the Cleveland Clinic and asked to speak with their volunteer department. I introduced myself very politely and explained that I'd like to volunteer to do arts & crafts with the sick children at Rainbow Babies and Children's Hospital. The Nice Lady and I talked for a little while and the Nice Lady explained that that wasn't a volunteer position. However as it happened, on the prior day there was a resignation in the Hanna House Activities Department. Hanna House was U. H.'s post-operative step down or recuperation hospital, she explained. It was primarily geriatric and had a very quick turnover of residents (patients). The average stay was 12-14 days 'cause most people were simply there after receiving their new knees or hips. Some residents were there for other various and sundry medical experiments; new heads, new souls, etc. but really it was a lot of hips and knees.
Activities Professionals are the cruise directors of the hospital she explained. They're the people who provide the cherry smiles, the Bingo boards, the radios and the parties and by law they must be in every nursing facility. Hanna House's licensing was technically that of a nursing facility. She though I should apply for the job and transferred me over.
I left a message on Miss Leigh's voice mail explaining my situation. She called me back and I went in for an interview the next week. The interview went pleasantly but she explained that the job wasn't even posted yet, so the situation needed to be handled with proper protocol. Before Miss Leigh could make any decision, the job availability needed to go out to all hospital staff and she had to interview anyone interested. About four or five weeks later, Miss Leigh called me back and offered me the part-time job. She explained that I would start the second week of July so I could be scheduled for the proper orientation. All in all, from my first innocent phone call to the volunteer department to my first day working at Hanna House it was about twelve weeks.
I was really quite nervous about working in that environment. During the twelve weeks of forced contemplation, I thought a lot about this potential career change. I certainly had experience with elderly, Lord knows, but not in a hospital - such an official capacity! Also, my professional experience was with people who primarily required companionship, not outright care. But I didn't let Miss Leigh know of my serious concerns. After all, I collect experiences and stories. I love to live on the edge and challenge myself. I wasn't going to let a potential new boss know that I was scared to death to actually receive the job that I was applying for.
So that's how I started in the activities field. It was totally out of left field. But basically the profession was a good fit. It took advantage of many of my strengths. I don't know that I'll ever go back into it, but I also know that if I ever try to predict and bet where my life's path will wind, I'm guaranteed to loose my investment.
As somebody who gets bored easily, I tend to collect professions, and education.
In the summer of 1998 I'd just finished school... again. This time with a B.A. (my second) in Art History. I enjoyed learning about Art History very much and found it a useful tool. With it, I imagined, I'd be the perfect party guest. With my first B.A. (Interpersonal Communications) I learned to speak with almost anyone. Now with this second degree I had something to speak about. After all, just about everybody likes art, right? So my two degrees prepared me to be a great dinner party conversationalist. I was thrilled.
Dinner party conversationalists can get paid a lot of money too, if they attend the right parties. Therein lies the problem. I didn't attend the right parties. So I became a hairdresser.
I've been a licensed hairdoer since 1981 and occasionally find myself actually doing hair. Such was the case in the summer of '98 after graduating. It was really a case of "nothing else to do, so I'll go do hair."
That particular salon, the one where I worked from summer '98 to summer '99, is a separate story; but come spring of '99 I was getting antsy.I really wasn't looking to leave, but I was getting bored; I simply needed some additional incentive to wake up in the morning. In one of my "flashes of inspiration" I decided to go to a hospital near my home and start volunteering. Innocent enough, right?
So I called University Hospitals of Cleveland which is four blocks closer to me than the Cleveland Clinic and asked to speak with their volunteer department. I introduced myself very politely and explained that I'd like to volunteer to do arts & crafts with the sick children at Rainbow Babies and Children's Hospital. The Nice Lady and I talked for a little while and the Nice Lady explained that that wasn't a volunteer position. However as it happened, on the prior day there was a resignation in the Hanna House Activities Department. Hanna House was U. H.'s post-operative step down or recuperation hospital, she explained. It was primarily geriatric and had a very quick turnover of residents (patients). The average stay was 12-14 days 'cause most people were simply there after receiving their new knees or hips. Some residents were there for other various and sundry medical experiments; new heads, new souls, etc. but really it was a lot of hips and knees.
Activities Professionals are the cruise directors of the hospital she explained. They're the people who provide the cherry smiles, the Bingo boards, the radios and the parties and by law they must be in every nursing facility. Hanna House's licensing was technically that of a nursing facility. She though I should apply for the job and transferred me over.
I left a message on Miss Leigh's voice mail explaining my situation. She called me back and I went in for an interview the next week. The interview went pleasantly but she explained that the job wasn't even posted yet, so the situation needed to be handled with proper protocol. Before Miss Leigh could make any decision, the job availability needed to go out to all hospital staff and she had to interview anyone interested. About four or five weeks later, Miss Leigh called me back and offered me the part-time job. She explained that I would start the second week of July so I could be scheduled for the proper orientation. All in all, from my first innocent phone call to the volunteer department to my first day working at Hanna House it was about twelve weeks.
I was really quite nervous about working in that environment. During the twelve weeks of forced contemplation, I thought a lot about this potential career change. I certainly had experience with elderly, Lord knows, but not in a hospital - such an official capacity! Also, my professional experience was with people who primarily required companionship, not outright care. But I didn't let Miss Leigh know of my serious concerns. After all, I collect experiences and stories. I love to live on the edge and challenge myself. I wasn't going to let a potential new boss know that I was scared to death to actually receive the job that I was applying for.
So that's how I started in the activities field. It was totally out of left field. But basically the profession was a good fit. It took advantage of many of my strengths. I don't know that I'll ever go back into it, but I also know that if I ever try to predict and bet where my life's path will wind, I'm guaranteed to loose my investment.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Denial
Page Five.
I've done a lot of elder care in addition to child care over the years. In 1998, I was hired to be a companion to a gentleman who wasn't old, only mid-sixties, but who had a bad form of Parkinson's. I forget the exact name of his type, but it really eats away at the brain and causes severe dementia as well as the typical shakiness. He was a retired psychologist and his wife was a geriatric researcher of some type. They were quite pleasant and hired me on as she realized more and more that she didn't want him home alone while she worked full time.
After a couple of months though, I was getting nervous because whenever he and I went out, he drove. He turned in front of oncoming traffic and made other such boo-boos that I felt endangered our safety. These boo-boos happened a few times over the course of some weeks before I finally mentioned them to his wife. She told me that she would talk with him. The next day she called me back to say that he didn't know what I was talking about and that he was going to continue driving when we were together. She said further that she trusted him and I should just calm down. I was stunned that she would take that stand, but as I needed the money I decided to keep my mouth shut and pray deeply whenever we drove together. That job wouldn't last long, only a couple more months, this was just as well.
Some years later, I'd be the Activities Coordinator for two dementia units in a fancy shmancy nursing home. I would come to realize where this wife was coming from. She came from a land called Denial. Denial is a wonderful and effective defense mechanism some people employ when they simply can't cope with reality.Whether it's the reality of a husband's dementia, a son's drug problem or a mother's terminal cancer it protects us from terrible pain. Problem is, in the long run it ends up causing more problems than it solves. It prevents healthy decision making and proper treatment plans from being introduced into the life of the loved one in question.
In the nursing home we once had a family move their mom onto my unit and we were given the standard "Mom's forgetful" as the forms were being filled out. Turns out that Mom was so advanced in her dementia that she'd forgotten how to feed herself. Whom did this family think they were going to fool? (They were really trying to fool themselves.) At the end of the first day, Mom was transferred to a different unit where she could be cared for properly, and family had to endure a double trauma: placing Mom in a nursing home and then receiving a phone call saying Mom was much more advanced than they realized. I would implore anybody with a demented loved one to be as honest as they possibly can be about the situation, painful as it may be. In these situations, family denial really can make it worse.
I've done a lot of elder care in addition to child care over the years. In 1998, I was hired to be a companion to a gentleman who wasn't old, only mid-sixties, but who had a bad form of Parkinson's. I forget the exact name of his type, but it really eats away at the brain and causes severe dementia as well as the typical shakiness. He was a retired psychologist and his wife was a geriatric researcher of some type. They were quite pleasant and hired me on as she realized more and more that she didn't want him home alone while she worked full time.
After a couple of months though, I was getting nervous because whenever he and I went out, he drove. He turned in front of oncoming traffic and made other such boo-boos that I felt endangered our safety. These boo-boos happened a few times over the course of some weeks before I finally mentioned them to his wife. She told me that she would talk with him. The next day she called me back to say that he didn't know what I was talking about and that he was going to continue driving when we were together. She said further that she trusted him and I should just calm down. I was stunned that she would take that stand, but as I needed the money I decided to keep my mouth shut and pray deeply whenever we drove together. That job wouldn't last long, only a couple more months, this was just as well.
Some years later, I'd be the Activities Coordinator for two dementia units in a fancy shmancy nursing home. I would come to realize where this wife was coming from. She came from a land called Denial. Denial is a wonderful and effective defense mechanism some people employ when they simply can't cope with reality.Whether it's the reality of a husband's dementia, a son's drug problem or a mother's terminal cancer it protects us from terrible pain. Problem is, in the long run it ends up causing more problems than it solves. It prevents healthy decision making and proper treatment plans from being introduced into the life of the loved one in question.
In the nursing home we once had a family move their mom onto my unit and we were given the standard "Mom's forgetful" as the forms were being filled out. Turns out that Mom was so advanced in her dementia that she'd forgotten how to feed herself. Whom did this family think they were going to fool? (They were really trying to fool themselves.) At the end of the first day, Mom was transferred to a different unit where she could be cared for properly, and family had to endure a double trauma: placing Mom in a nursing home and then receiving a phone call saying Mom was much more advanced than they realized. I would implore anybody with a demented loved one to be as honest as they possibly can be about the situation, painful as it may be. In these situations, family denial really can make it worse.
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