In this new category, I will write about various jobs I have had throughout the years. Some of them are comical, as you will find out from reading this post. Hope you enjoy the post more than I did working the job.
I took this job because I had some counselor training, and because I really needed the money. The job was advertised to pay $22 per hour, which is pretty good money for this area. I remember leaving the house dressed in my best clothes, I even wore a tie. “A counselor should dress professional” I thought.
Upon arriving at the home, I was greeted by a lady who said the she was the live in care person. When I asked her what a live in care person did, she said that she took care of the household chores and kept clothing washed. I figured that she was the maid for whatever company needed a counselor.
She led me up a stairs and into the kitchen. I asked her where the counselor’s office was. She just laughed. I sat at the table for an hour, not doing anything because she said that she was waiting for our client to come home. I heard a knock on the door, and then a tumble.
The ‘Client’ had arrived. He was a big man in his late forties, and without a doubt, with a disability. When I attempted to introduce myself to him, the lady said that he didn’t understand English very well, and that he did not communicate well either.
The man, who I will call Bill, stumbled into the washroom and slammed the door. “Go with him!” the lady said.
“To the bathroom” I questioned. “Yes, he needs someone to clean him when he is finished”
“Finished what” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Finished having a bowel movement” she said. “He isn’t able to clean himself, so it is your job to clean him”
“But…I am a counselor, not a home care worker” I said, frantically.
“Didn’t they tell you? Didn’t they explain your role?” she asked. “The lady in the interview room said that I would be a counselor, that’s why I took the job, not to wipe some guy’s ass!” I responded, getting a bit agitated.
“The role of ‘counselor’ in this situation was like that of a counselor at summer camp, someone to oversee the well being of a person, and see to their needs” she added.
“I will do it this time, but next time it’s your turn.” She said, like I wanted there to be a next time. I hoped this guy got constipation for the next year or so.
The next thing she suggested was for me to get better acquainted with Bill. She asked that I join the two of them in the common room to watch TV. I sat next to him, with her on the other chair. He made a couple of grunting noises, which apparently meant that he wanted to change the channel. I don’t know how she figured this out; I just hoped he wasn’t having a bowel movement.
He was sitting there, when all of a sudden he made a fist with his giant hand. He swung his fist, hitting me square in the chest, knocking the wind out of me momentarily. When I regained my composure, I asked what the hell that was for.
“He likes you” she said. Apparently this guy shows affection by hitting people. I wished he hated me at that point. Then he starts hitting himself in the head and screeching. “What does this mean” I asked.
“This means that he is having another bowel movement”
“In his pants??” I asked, terrifyingly.
“He does that sometimes, when he wants to get closer to a person, relax, he isn’t hard to clean” she reassured me.
We went to the bathroom, to find Bill sitting on the toilet, playing with himself.
“Take his penis from his hands, don’t let him do it, it gets messy” She said.
This was getting worse each second. First I am hired to counsel, but I have to wipe asses. Then I have to touch another man’s penis. Then I have to hope he doesn’t like me too much or he will beat me to death. I really don’t like this job, and it has only been four hours. I kept telling myself that it paid $22 per hour that almost made me stay.
“Well at least the money is good” I bragged. “Well, not really.” She said. “What!” I almost yelled.
“The next part of the job is to take Bill in your car and drive him around town. Take him places so that he can be amused. Bill doesn’t like being bored, he does things when he is bored, like peeing himself”
“When you have him in your car or in your home, you get $22 per hour” “Every other time, like now, the pay is only $12 per hour”
For $22 per hour, I wouldn’t clean asses and risk my life, so for twelve dollars an hour I sure as hell won’t be doing it.
“I quit!” I said.
“Quit? But you were doing such a good job, and Bill likes you. The two of you could have a lot of fun”
“Long as he doesn’t eat anything”, I thought
“Nope, this job isn’t for me. I applause anyone who can do this job, but it is not for me. Personally I think $22 is not nearly enough for this job, but I wouldn’t work it even if it were more.” I added.
When I got home and explained the job to my girl, she laughed her ass off. “I would have enjoyed seeing your face when you found out that counselor was actually a relief worker” She joked. I think she knew about this all the time, but omitted to tell me because of all the bragging I was doing about this ‘great new job’. Lessons learned. My counseling job only lasted 4 hours.