I had no clue that Andrea was thinking about leaving the Manor. So when she told me one morning that she had given her two-week notice I was surprised. She was taking another position closer to her home, which was about 30 minutes away. She also wanted to spend more time with her now three-year old son.
I grew so much in the years we worked together. I admit that I depended on her in situations I still was unsure how to handle. I thanked her for supporting me as I know she was on my side when the corporation approved of an assistant. I was also afraid I might not get another supervisor as cool as Andrea was down the road.
At first Mrs. Alfgren looked for a new Director of Social Services. Until she found someone, after an exhaustive search and countless interviews, I was back to handling the 144 residents alone, as I did during Andrea's maternity leave. Three people accepted the position in six months. One turned out not to have the nursing home experience she claimed to have once she started. Another simply left after only a week. once she got a taste of all the work involved. Then I met Caroline.
She was younger than I was with a few years of experience in the field. Petite with long brown hair flowing all the way down her back ,she was a real free-spirit, like Lori was from college, She ate organic foods, believed in yoga and meditation, lived with her boyfriend and generally was a cool person. She was refreshingly honest, laughed a lot, often wore long granny dresses and old-fashioned clothes , and had a good perspective on the job. "Whatever:" was kind of her motto, and she didn't let stress get to her If she could walk down the halls in her bare feet she would've. . The residents liked her because she was different, down-to-earth and friendly.
I could've worked with Caroline forever. But, like a brilliant shooting star lightening up the sky then fading into space, she left after a year. She wanted to get more into private counseling and decided that she needed to "find herself.' elsewhere.
So back to square one.
Mrs. Alfgren consulted me on the resumes and I sat in with a few of the interviews. But we just couldn't seem to find the right person for the job. Then Mrs. Alfgren looked at me after another disappointing interview and said,'What about you, Greg? You've done the work. Why not?"
Believe it or not at first I was reluctant to accept. I was perfectly happy doing what I was doing. I was OK with being the assistant. I knew the Director got the grief whenever the state stopped by and there was a problem in the department. The Director attends more meetings and I was happy being out on the units where the action is. The extra money would be nice but I wasn't complaining. I was making peanuts back then, yet still it was more than being on disability. Probably the main reason for my hesitation was my own self-confidence. Even after all the experience I had I wasn't totally confident I could do the job. I was still learning something new every day.
Then I thought, why not? Mrs. Alfgren has the faith in me to make the offer. I may not get this chance ever again. The challenge would keep me on my toes. I need to grow out of the box.
So I accepted.
For the following six years I was Director of Social Services at the facility where I started as a volunteer. It was my dream job, and I remembered how hard I worked for this in school, how unhappy I was at Aging, and couldn't forget the dark days on unemployment and disability.
The actual work wasn't much different than when I was assistant. I still did the mountains of paperwork, the counseling and whatever I needed to do. I worked closer with the Psychiatrist and the Psychologist who came into the building once a week. I began to appreciate Andrea and Caroline even more. Trying to fill their shoes wasn't easy. I could only do the best I could do.
I worked with Mrs. Alfgren more closely too. She was more demanding with her department heads then with her assistants, and rightfully so. I was one of the top dogs now, and along with the title came added responsibility.
I had numerous assistants over the years, some good and some not so good. Most stayed for a while, got a taste of nursing home life and either loved the fast-paced work or hated it. There was no in-between.
Changing assistants was frustrating. It would take a few months to train someone. It took time to learn how to formulate a care plan or complete an assessment on a resident. Often, just when they got the hang of it they would quit and I had to start over again. A few cracked under the intense pressure when the inspectors were lurking. It wasn't easy.
I also had two interns, both from my old alma mater, West Chester U., who joined me for their practicums. It was great giving back to my old school by helping new, soon-to-be Social Workers learn the ropes. I wanted them to get excited about their duties. I wanted them to make a difference and feel good about themselves. I wasn't so far away from my own internships and I could relate to what they must be feeling.
I hated to give bad evaluations. I knew how important the internships were to graduating and getting a good job in the field. Yet it was my responsibility to teach, and if they failed I failed too as a supervisor.
There could not have been two students more opposite than my interns. The first , named Jody, was very shy and quiet. I was too when I first started out. Afraid to say the wrong thing or make mistakes. I forced myself to open up more. She wasn't going to cut it being so passive.
My advice worked because within weeks she was giving me advice as to how to run the department better and how I could be a more effective supervisor. This was all new to me, suddenly being the boss. Even after a month or so I was still babying her. Instead of letting Jody make her own mistakes- I shadowed her everywhere (( instead of the other way around). I didn't need to be with her every hour of her internship so I began to let go. We ended up with a terrific practicum.
Years later I would bump into Jody at a seminar and she was doing well in the field, working for an agency that helps homeless veterans.
My second student named Emily was very emotional. I admired her spunk, being a single mom of two small kids, fresh out of a divorce, trying to make it in school in her early 30's. Every morning was frantic, dropping her kids at daycare, coming to her internship crying and stressed out from school and her personal life. We would take the first hour of each day just to talk. and let her cry.
How could Emily help the residents when she was constantly in tears? She bummed me out, so I can only imagine how the residents would feel. I felt bad her but she had to get herself together.
She was still finding her way, a familiar scenario indeed, so a combination of tough love and kid gloves worked.
By the end of her nine-month run Emily was better. I still had concerns for her in the field but she seemed to have her life together by graduation, and I hoped her good heart and caring personality would carry her through.
I heard from Emily after graduation. She didn't find a job in the Social Work field but she was working, happily so, at a local daycare. She thought it may be a waste of her degree but I disagreed. Maybe she would get back into the field someday. She was happy working with children.
Everyone finds their niche sooner or later.
I had found my niche too. I was making a difference at a job I loved, . I thought I would at the Manor forever, or at least unit I retired. But like everything else in life, things don't always go as planned.
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