I believe it's been a couple of weeks since I last posted, and tho my apologies for that will remain sincere I assure you it was not due to simple idleness.

No, I actually did get hired for that job I'd last wrote about. Yeah, yay me. And yeah, I would be saying that with sarcasm because the gig did not last very long.

So, I kicked ass at the interview, and they did find a place to put me. In fact, it was in the place that was mentioned in the interview, the one they weren't sure about because it was four women. Okay, for any uninitiated, I'm going into a social services career, so this was at a group home for four women. I was told, two women in wheel chairs, a blind woman, a woman who is 82. Oh, hell, why should I care that they're female? Sign me up for that bad boy.

Well, and so I went through orientation. A couple of not-so-sure-about-this moments during all that. But whatever, finishing a psych degree, this is in the field, it's all looking good.

Btw, about that degree -- if I hadn't mentioned it before, I could have been done in Dec. Those last classes I took, turns out they're unnecessary. Turns out. My degree is complete except for an internship, and let me share with you guys, because I don't with anyone else: Fuck my school for that other requirement. Who the hell requires an internship for an undergrad degree? In psychology for God's sake. Though of course, the line I give to everyone else: It's actually really good my school requires this, because you know grads from our school have real-world-application experience before they're done.

Yeah. Tell it to the guys who can't pay bills.

Oh yeah! That would be me!

So I spent a week in orientation, and on the last day of that I visit the house and read up on stuff. Here I end up getting ... a little spooked, let us just say.

Now okay: Obviously I'm not offended by what appears not "normal", in fact I am draw to it, thus my interest in psychology in the first place. And sure, perhaps I want to work with the more flashy things in the long run ... Aspergers intrigues me, that old classic schizophrenia is a gordian knot that's just been waiting for my sword ... fine, maybe it isn't exactly waiting for me, but I'm still interested.

Most pointedly: give me the person who still functions in everyday life, keeps the job, tends to the family, what have you. But has some crazy ass shit running through their head, daily. That is what I dream of working with. It's something I would do for free, which is what made me realize it's what I ought to do for a living.

Um, and helping. You know, when the people have the crazy ass shit. Helping them out. Don't leave that part out, otherwise it makes it look like I'm just interested in studying people like rats. And, joking aside, that could not be farther from the truth. I do want to help people. I am interested in how our thinking can get so screwed up. And, on an informal basis, people have told me I helped. Again, how we get to my career aspirations.

But you have to start somewhere, yes?

So I got this job at a group home. After I'd spoken with the interviewer, I got a call a day or two later from his boss, after all the background check stuff was done, to offer me the job. She joked about my having called the day before, after the interviewer had called the day of my interview (I missed that one) and saying that I was ready to start as soon as they were ready to have me. She told me that the job including cleaning, and asked if I was still so eager. I said yeah, fucking duh.

Well, okay. Here's the thing: euphemisms have their use. Someone was "disciplined" instead of "made to cry like a baby". I can see the use in that. But let's suppose ... let's just suppose, I'm saying ... that I'm "an unrepentent junkie who will swallow handfuls of whatever someone hands me". Is it really functional, then, to say I "have substance abuse issues"?

You have a few too many beers every now and then. You take over-the-counter meds to sleep most nights. You've actually gone home with someone you knew wanted sex with you because you wanted the coke/pot/whatever you knew they had whatever it was at their home. Those are "substance abuse issues to me. I'm just saying, euphemisms have their use, but it's a limited use.

So on that Friday morn, I got the full brief on the ladies I was supposed to help take care of. They were all "developmentally disabled". And yeah, since "retarded" is a pop-culture insult, I can see the reason for that euphemism. But we already start to run into problems there, because it's such a vague term.

In short, two who can't walk, one blind, one pretty old just didn't even come close to the problems these women have. It's actually a lot more than that for each of them, and honestly both my compassion and my professional interest expanded because of this.

But, if you'd somehow lost my point in all my rambling, there was something else. And it challenged and pretty much kicked the ass of the infantile social services professionalism I'd worked up to at this point.

Two of the ladies are so severely handicapped that they need to wear "briefs". Briefs, if you have not been paying attention, is a euphemism for adult diapers. Uh huh. And now you have the "cleaning" part. Hey, if you knew that already, you're quicker on the uptake than Mr. Strange.

So my first day working at the actual house was last Tuesday. That day I was just "shadowing", watching what the peeps do so I'd know. I had 3 days or so to wrestle with whether or not I could do it. And actually, all visceral revulsion aside and everything, I'd decided that I could. Okay, at least that I would.

So what happened? A friend called that Friday night, who I don't see much of these days. During the day Friday, and Sat too, tho I was at work that day. Now, some of you may recall that I've cleaned up my act as far as the pothead thing goes. More or less. Which is to say, I know I'm a big fat pothead, so the idea would just be to stay away from the stuff.

Well, I had. Since early Jan, at least -- which, for something you really enjoy, is a good thing. So my buddy calls, I haven't talked to him and his in a while (I used to work with him, he met his live-in-mate around when we met about 6 years ago, and they have 4 kids between them [from 21 to 2 years old! I won't even go into it...]) so I did finally call back by Sunday. And at this point, I'm thinking I could both use a little mellowing out, and I could also use an altered take on this, because it was screwing with me.

Why did it screw with me? Well, on the one hand? Eeewww!!! On the other? It's not like you'd have to use your bare hands or anything. And it's not like they can help themselves. If they could, they would. Actually gets at the heart of what I want to do with my life: here's someone who has trouble, and is helpless to fix it. Without help, yes, this would eventually kill them. In the short term, it at least makes them fucking miserable.

So, I actually did show up for that first morning of shadowing. And one of the ladies in a wheelchair was actually pretty cool, "developmentally disabled" or not, we had a cool conversation. She, according the lady I was shadowing, would be one of the main issues to bother you in the middle of the night, as she didn't like to wear "briefs" and would wake you up to help her to be toilet. See, now -- this part I could deal with.

The other lady in a wheelchair wasn't so high functioning. As far as I could tell, she would just go whenever, more or less like it had no relation what she was doing. She also didn't care to have her teeth brushed (and is incapable of doing it herself) and the wails she made while having her teeth brushed will haunt me for some time. It was my first day, and yes, I let the "cleaning" thing plus the pot make me late for that ... so I didn't see much worse.

Actually, I did. If she needed cleaing, I missed that part. But I saw her transferred from bed to around a couple time before into her chair. And long and short? And one point, tho she didn't have a full on bowel movement (which is something we'd need to document) when the attendent's back was turned, she pooped just a little.

Here's the gig, kids. I was horrified. And just like I didn't know, in those few days, how to explain my immense trepidation now that I understood all that the new job would entail, I didn't know how to say to the company as a whole that I just didn't know if I could wipe people's butts. For eight bucks an hour.

But like I'd said, I'd decided to do it. Obviously not because I wanted to, because more specifically because no one wants to, and someone has to.

But, as I'm shadowing, the lady I'm following is giving me the scoop. And she's leaving the position. And she says that sometimes at night you'll be woke up because this one lady has gone, and she'll be really messy...

Okay, by a show of hands, who amongst us has changed a baby's diaper? See now, my hand is down. Don't get me wrong, I would. I'm just saying, I haven't. Plus, the little bit of poop that dropped while the attendants back was turned? I was horrified because if I had been the lady taking care of her, I would not have seen it. I mean, that's just so much worse.

Because, along with my not knowing how to talk about any of this in a professional manner, there the part of me that wanted the attendent to turn around, notice, and shrug it off. Because if she'd noticed, however gross it might be anyway, then it's not a den of infection and disease waiting to happen. Apparently, once I worked there long enough, I would develop this keen awareness myself. But as it was, I noticed this with my extreme apprehension. She, being used to this routine, did not.

So what happened? Well, I smoked the rest of that day. Oh God, how was I going to do this? (The attendant had told me that the next day, they should actually get me in on the whole showering/cleaning thing, rather than just have me watch. This was training after all, right?) I was up pretty late, and not sober by any stretch. And I got up late. And ... smoked some more and started playing my computer game.

About an hour into when I was supposed to be there, I realized this wouldn't exactly look good with my new empolyers. I also realized I was incredibly glad to be at home playing an MMORG instead of wiping someone's ass at that point in time. It was a bad spot, nonetheless.

The supervisor called the next day. The manager who'd hired me called later in the afternoon that day. Kind of a CYA thing there, who knows what I could come out with eventually if they left it alone. So, I called back and explained quite ineptly how I hadn't known about the "showering" part and wasn't comfortable with it, therefore this job wasn't for me.

But that's bullshit. I can shower some older ladies, folks. Hell, I'll shower whoever you want. I don't have to like it. You can be all gross, but if I'm putting soap on you with gloves on and otherwise just hosing you down ... eh, I can deal.

But can you wipe someone's butt for them? Fine, if it's your own baby, or (God forbid) if it's your parent who's gotten old enough that they can't anymore (and you can't pay someone else) then of course you do. But an adult? Someone you don't even know? Someone who may scream and yell at you for doing it? And frankly, let's be real here ... does the opposite-sex thing not come into play here? I don't want to wipe anyone's butt if I can help it, but wiping women? Just EW.

And if you're not convinced yet, you just haven't been paying attention. That morning I read all the particular issues of each particular lady? All of them but the 82 year old were documented as "flirting" or something else "inappropriate" with male attendants. You want to tell me that's not the stuff of nightmares? A disabled woman twice my age coming on to me while I change her diaper?

It may never have happened. But I'm not going to blame pot for it not happening, I'm going to thank it. I was deciding to do something that ... okay, this is odd for me to admit because I don't really consider myself religious ... but honestly, I'd prayed about this that weekend, and I came out of it feeling like this wasn't the right job for me. I'm broke and need to start in my field, so I psyched myself up to just deal with it. And, intensely severe money problems aside, I have to admit I thank a "slip" back into stonerdom to than for that.

I don't actually regret not having the job so much as the two weeks wasted, plus I still feel I need to smooth things over with the management of this place. I mean, I do think saying the job involves "cleaing" was a bit vague, but my just disappearing for two days then having a couple of incoherent conversations to resolve matters ... um, just doesn't resolve quite like I'd like.

Oh, hell. How have you been, then?

I got a message last Friday, which has turned into an interview Thursday. This one I'm even less qualified for because it's a management position, so I don't know if it will go so well. It's also an adult group-home thing, so I'd basically be getting the job of the supervisor I met at this last place ... from what this chick said, these guys are "mentally ill", which I hope translates into a job that does not involve "cleaning". And anyway, mental illnesses are more what I'm aimed at in the long run. So basically, I have to go to this new interview and do some jedi mind tricks.

Isn't that just the last thing any of you all have been keeping up would have expected tho? That I'd get a job, and not take it?

Along the same lines -- can you blame me for not taking it?

Seriously. Inquiring minds want to know.

And this isn't related, but while I was not showing up for that second shadowing and not calling them to explain what happened to me? My main MMORG character is now one level away from the highest. Not even a whole level. No, that doesn't matter in the real world. But in this little make-believe world, I'm finally at the point that defines. It could easily take another month to get there ... still, I'm feeling pretty uber right now :)

And it probably won't take that long. Leastways, we would hope.