Yes, thanks, Mom. Perhaps I should have stuck with my original plan of becoming an elementary school teacher. Heaven knows, teachers are essential, committed members of our child-rearing system. A good teacher is worth his/her weight in gold, and they don't receive our thanks and appreciation often enough.
So maybe I made a mistake. As I fight a war with my former agency (really, is it so hard to pay someone for the work they have done for you?) and question whether I am sick of being at the bottom of the human-services totem pole (master's degree from a prestigious university does not automatically equal a stellar career, did you know?) I began to think back to some of my highlights, and lowlights, of a career spent in casework - out in the field, in the trenches, as it were. Some of the memories were...funny. So funny I sat laughing to myself for a good fifteen minutes before I remembered I was supposed to be wallowing in self-pity and regret for a poor life choice.
So I'll share a moment here, in the hopes of clearing my mind and enabling me to make a decision about how I'm going to spend the next twenty years of my employed life:
Working in Brooklyn for an HMO (shutter!) I went to visit a new patient. The 82 year-old had recently lost his wife, and I anticipated a session filled with grief work, while I attempted to get the paperwork done. Well, this grieving widower had other ideas. He leaned over not ten minutes into the visit, put his hand on my knee (I was wearing a shortish skirt, natch) and told me he was needing a wife. Would I be interested? He could offer me money.
Thank heavens I had worn my wedding rings that day (I often left them at home, as wearing diamonds while visiting extremely poor neighborhoods is generally not a good idea) and was able to let him down gently, while removing his hand from my upper thigh, where it had traveled.
So, this is my career in a nutshell. Getting hit on by 82 year-old men. How could I give this up?
Till next time!
Jo
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