There are conversations, and then there are OLD PEOPLE conversations

Today I was going to rant about my most recent trip to BYU, but this now takes precedence, because of my Monday.

OLD PEOPLE!   GAAAH!!!

GET OFF MY LAWN!!!

The subsection I'm referring to (and bitching about) today are the older people who 'aren't quite there' mentally anymore.  They're slow to process, slow to talk, but ALWAYS want to share every little detail of their lives with you.

My new job has me working with the Aged population.  Most of them are pretty sharp.  You can be in your nineties and still have your wits about you.  To you, if you fall into this category, my aggravation is not directed to you.

It IS, however, directed to the clientele AND THE COWORKERS who see me as the newest 'friend' of theirs, and I need to be caught up on everything I have missed in their lives.

One trip to a senior center, when I was newer and training with my boss, I had an old lady come up to me.  She stood next to me for about a minute, not making eye contact... just staring off into the distance.  All of a sudden she spins to look at me and asks, "Well?  What do you think?"

"About what?"

"About anything?"

I'm speechless... how do you answer that?  Me, in my smart-ass-ness, paused for a second and quipped "Well, I try not to think about anything."  She smiles at me, says "Me too, it makes my head hurt." and then walks away smiling.

....huh??

Let's move to coworker #1.  She works pretty close to me, so there is regular interaction.  She's good at what she does, and when she's focused on her clients, things are cool.  But when I interact with her, I apparently need explanation on everything.

She asks me to help her understand the new phone system, or fix the sound-output on her computer (as simple as turning the volume knob on the speakers...).  I help her, show her what I did, and then the dam bursts....

Her:  "Ok, thank you.  I really wasn't sure what to do, because .....30-45 seconds of fluff here...."

Me:  "That's ok, I'm just glad to help."

Her:  "I appreciate that.  You know my son usually helps me with these things... another 30-45 seconds of fluff..."

mhm.  really.  wow.  you don't say.

Trying to wrap up a conversation with her is damn near impossible.  I'm probably going to have to end up hiding my phone in my pocket, and having a ringtone similar to my office phone that I can set off when I want the conversation to end.

"Whoops, that's my line!  I have to go!"  It's a great idea.

Next is a field worker that I interact little with.  It's usually a simple "hello" and "how are you?" if anything.

Not this day.

I'm in training, and they want me to learn everything I can.  I'm basically the information hub for the agency, so I have to know everything, right?  Well Monday consisted of shadowing this lady into the field, and seeing what she does at the local senior centers.

This chick likes to talk.  A lot.

I'm hip!  I gave Clark Gable a bj on the backlot of Gone With the Wind!

During the brief car ride to the senior center, I learned these facts about her.

- She's agnostic
- She hates it when people get overly religious in front of her
- She's lived in all continental 48 states at some point in her life
- She likes to paint
- She has a fine arts degree and wants to be a museum curator someday (but today she's visiting people at the old folks home... go fig...)
- She doesn't like one of our interns because the intern talks too much (REALLY?  Coming from you that says something, sister).

I said three words that entire car ride:  "Really?"  "Wow."  And "California" (she asked me where I was from).  The rest of the one-sided gab-fest was filled with 'mmhmm's' and 'uh-huh's' on my part.

Oh, and it gets better.

She's as old as most of the people in the senior center, so she gets along just dandy with the residents.  We are officially here to visit one person, but "we're gonna check in on a few others, just to see if they need our services."  The visit with our actual client takes MAYBE 45 seconds.  Pleasantries, are exchanged, and she hands the frail old lady a business card.

At that point I'm thinking "ok, strictly business.  Get in, get out, get back.  I like her style."

Nope.

We start visiting other residents.

People in old folks homes are usually a combination of bored and lonely.  If you have a family member in one or know someone who does, you'll know you can easily get your ear talked off in one of those places.

Not this lady.  She's in her element.  The oldies like to talk, and so does she.

Somehow she has an anecdote to share with every single resident.

"Your last name is Miller?  I know a Miller, back when I lived in..."

"Oh, you have an artificial leg?  My uncle had a wooden leg, and my grandpa made it for him.  Grandpa had an eyepatch, and they used to play pirate all the time... and..."

"Oh, you used to live on the west side?  I bought a house on the west side built by such-and-such... did you know him?"

By conversation #5, I was thinking of creative ways to kill myself.
Bunny Suicides came to mind.  I love those poor bunnies...

What was originally planned to be a quick half hour trip took about 90 minutes.  By the time I got back to the office, my eyes were glazed over and my head was spinning.

Luckily it was lunchtime.  I should have made it a 3 martini lunch, but I settled on leftovers and a Dr. Pepper.

Welcome to your new career... now get packing

Week 2 at the new job, and I'm already packing my things.

Why?

We're moving!

Apparently I'm coming at a fun time for the company.  They are 'in between' buildings right now, like I was in between jobs.  They have a brand new building being custom made for them, which will be ready in June.  The problem is, in order to pay for the construction, they had to sell their old building to pay for the new.

Shooting yourself in the foot much, eh?

They sold the building late last year, and struck up a lease agreement with the new owners.  "We can't move out yet, even though the building is yours."  At the time, I guess the new owners were ok with it...

Not anymore.

In January, they said "we are switching you to a month to month lease."  The company gulped.  A few days afterward, they said "ok, now we're switching things again.  You need to be out in 30 days."

That 30 days ends this week.

So we are packing our things in a rush, only to be moved into a temporary location for the next 4ish months.  About 2/3 is going into boxes and will stay there until June, while the other 1/3 is travelling with us.

The funnest part?  I don't think we quite know where we are going yet...  They have a few buildings picked out, but I don't think any lease paperwork was signed....

I don't remember "packing and heavy lifting" in my job description.  Or organizing storage spaces.  Trying to learn a new position, while packing away your training material, makes for a fun week.

Wish me luck!

Rhymes with 'Tracey's'

With tongue in cheek, I am happy to say I'm a contributing member of the workforce again.

I'm working as a sales clerk at a major department store (hence the title of today's blog) and yesterday was my training day.  I spent 7 hours locked in a cramped room, staring at a computer, learning about things like diversity and why their store credit card is so fooking amazing.

I'm not thrilled with the job - I haven't made this little since 1999 - but it's better than being stuck at home making $0.00 an hour.  So off I go, and train I must.

I took this picture while in the middle of the training program.  The company tracks how many credit applications you take, and the bottom left corner is an example of the report they give you.

Are you seeing this right?  Let's zoom in, shall we?

Yes, that's right.

Until now, all the examples they used were random names, like John Johnson.  Now, all of a sudden, Adam West swoops in and kicks Christopher Reeve's ass in credit applications.

I guess Batman *is* better than Superman.  At least, as far as sales superpowers go...