Once upon a time I was a wealthy employee
of a multinational banking corporation. My job was admittedly cushy; I worked
from home, I made closer to six figures than the opposite direction, and thanks
to my job performance I was typically the recipient of a rather generous yearly
bonus. Unfortunately, this same job
was extremely stressful and required upwards of sixty hour weeks at times.
So naturally I got fed up, and decided
I wanted to do something more meaningful with my life. I wanted to “make a difference”
(vomit).
These days I’ve returned to school
as a “non-traditional” student (A.K.A. “old”) to finish my degree in social work.
It’s not the heroic life I envisioned (kidding of course I never assumed this
line of work would be heroic). But it’s a far cry from corporate life. After
doing the student thing for about a year, I finally have become comfortable
with rejoining the workforce on a part time basis (for more industry-based experience
and beer money).
After searching for about three
months I decided to apply for a job as a caregiver with a local group home for
the developmentally disabled. There’s been a learning curve, but not regarding
the job duties or how to perform the work. No, the learning has come from the realization
that the public sector performs much differently than the private sector.
From a banking perspective I can’t tell
you how many hours I spent in training courses for the various jobs I had entered
into before actually performing them. My experience with this particular group
home has been much different. Although I will mention that before starting in
the field the state required a first
aid, CPR, Article nine and Prevention and Support. I was impressed by all of
these as they were each several hours long and fairly thorough. However, the
attention to detail ended there.
Once starting with my agency, who
is contracted through the state to provide services to those with developmental
disabilities, I was tasked to job shadow in the group home. My first day’s training
consisted of reviewing daily medications, meeting the residents of the home (both
of these tasks were completed in no more than thirty minutes). I was told the remaining
of the time I’d be doing company-based training on the computer.
Much to my surprise I was quickly
told after arriving I would be helping to chaperone residents of the home to an
event at the local pro baseball field. Before
leaving I was also told that there would be no room in the car the other staff
and residents were taking and I’d have to use my own (a week later and I still haven’t
heard back about being reimbursed for mileage). Following the other staffers I
made my way to the ballfield, and then wound up paying for my parking as well.
There then seemed to be some confusion
on where we were sitting, and if we were staying for just the event ceremony (the
residents got to go down on the field and walk the perimeter). I also thought
it odd that for a full company gathering, not one out of the four managers
there made an effort to introduce me to the other managers or staff.
I will say the event itself (for
the Special Olympics) was nice, and the residents, particularly the kids,
seemed to enjoy it. It was good to see them smiling.
I was then told to stay for the
duration of the game (though this was sprung on me as well, I still wished to
make a good first impression, so I agreed), as I had long ago passed my four
hour shadowing commitment, but then as we returned to our seats to watch the first
pitch, we were then told our home’s residents and staff were leaving. So back
in the car, and back to the house. Still, my four hour in-home shadow had
turned into a six hour ball park excursion. Which is good, considering I needed
the extra hours to cover my gas mileage and parking cost.
Fast forward to the next day, I was
asked to come in 2 hours early in order to meet with a seasoned staff member in
order to ensure I was “set up for success”. Right…
I did so (again good impression),
and was surprised to learn the season staff member I was meeting with had been
there only 90 days. Again, we reviewed the medication book, but didn’t actually
administer any meds, I was shown where the computer training was located that I
never got to the day before, and the first aid kits, but only because I asked.
The gentlemen showing me around then got permission to leave an hour early (keep
in mind I came in two hours early
just to meet with him).
I was also left by myself on my
second night, not only on the job, but in the field with seven hours of
experience. I had been told there’d always be two other staff members present
at all times. But I’ve written this, so spoiler alert, I survived. Even changed
a diaper, bathed a member and cleaned up urine soaked sheets (I wanted to make
a difference right?). I also emailed the supervisor letting them know that
while taking their internal training, I was shocked to see the words “handicapped”
and “retard” appear in the text. Never heard back on that either, go figure.
Admittedly, the whole night I was worried I might
mess up somehow, make some simple mistake, or overlook something and it would
spell the doom of one of the members in the home. Thank God everything was
fine. Now, you could chalk this up to nerves, or my own flair for the dramatic.
Perhaps those things were part of it, but there was also me expecting to see something
more… to see a level of professionalism,
and dedication unmatched by any corporate entity.
Where I stand now is left wondering
what’s next. As I sit here on the brink of quitting, do the supervisors and managers
here think someone like me is expendable only after investing so little in my success?
Are my expectations too high? Are their standards too low? Do they look down on
me and just think to themselves that I might be a newb that just wasn’t cut out
for this line of work? Better question; do they even think at all?
I’m left with the humbling fact that
I am making $9.20 an hour, and the confusing idea that a company whose business
is the well-being of the people it serves, but does so little to support those
that serve the ones they are responsible for.
