At home I have a part-time job as a receptionist at an assisted living
facility. After a while I was able to match visitors with specific residents
and get a sense of which residents would come by at which times, whether it be
for their daily stroll around the lobby or just to say hello to me and grab a
piece of candy. I do a lot of observing behind that desk because, well, there’s
not much else to do. Aside from the residents and their visitors, though, I
think watching the different staff members, specifically housekeepers and
nurses, is much more fascinating. While you don’t expect them to skip around
singing show tunes every minute of their shift, you do expect a certain level
of caring.
Being a
housekeeper or a nurse requires a lot of caring, but it’s a specific kind of
caring. It doesn’t necessarily seem to have to be genuine, it just has to be
believable. One of the housekeepers,
Andrew, graduated from high school in 2012 with my sister and works there while
he goes to the local community college. He’s young, so most of the residents
are very fond of him and are always giving him words of wisdom and advice. He
calls some of them by their first name, and at times I’ve heard him ask about
their personal lives. Once I heard him ask a resident as he passed her in the
hallway, “How was your granddaughter’s soccer game? Did she have any goals? I
hope that cut on her knee healed before the game!” This, to me, is genuine
caring. Is it the most important thing in the world to Andrew? Probably not,
but it’s taking that extra step to show that he’s interested, that he cares to
a degree, and that he isn’t tuning you out when you speak to him. It’s a
respectful kind of care, and above all I think that’s one of the most important
kinds of care.
Comparatively
speaking, there is another kind of care I often and unfortunately see at my
job, and that’s the ‘believable’ care. The kind of care where you ‘fake it,’ or
where you think you do, at least. Sometimes when nurses (and housekeepers, too)
do their rounds to each resident’s room, they wear their headphones. Nothing
drives elderly people crazier than headphones, because even if they are not on
and music is not coming out of them, they still think you have them on full
blast and are ignoring them. I once watched a housekeeper make her rounds from
one resident’s room to another, wearing her headphones. I could hear her music
from my desk about 20ft away, and as she walked into each room she would say,
“Hello, how are you today?” She then waited a few seconds, not knowing if the
resident had even responded, and would say, “That’s good. Have a good
afternoon!” Now, if one were to walk by her, they could think, “Hmm, how nice
of her, asking how their day is and wishing them a good afternoon.” However,
does she really care? No. It’s an act. It’s the believable care (though I don’t
know if anyone would really believe her) or the just-doing-my-job bare minimum
care. It meets the general basis for how involved you should or could be when
doing your job.
Caring in this
kind of facility is important because if you don’t care, your facility could
suffer severely from it. Not caring enough about health and hygiene of the
residents, or meeting certain safety requirements, can easily lead to the
facility being shut down. Caring is important for the residents themselves,
too. Whenever I think of nursing homes or assisted living places gone wrong, I
think of the movie Happy Gilmore when
Adam Sandler’s characters grandmother goes to a nursing home and the staff is
pleasant and helpful when he around, but when he leaves they are cruel to her and the other
residents, too. Things like that (which are all as real as that movie portrays
it to be, trust me!) all can be prevented by implementing a certain level of
care into your work ethic. A little care goes a long way,
as seen in Chapter 9 of Never Let Me Go
where the narrator is talking about her missed opportunity with Harry because she assumed too much. She’s
now realizing that if she had cared a little more and didn’t blow him off, things
with them could have worked out. She didn’t care, and that hurt her in the end. She now makes you, the reader, care by making you feel somewhat sympathetic of her.
I like how you started off by talking about what good care looks like at your workplace when talking about Andrew. It was a good launching point into transitioning to the bad types of caring at the workplace you work at, such as the lady who wears headphones to tune out the elderly patients, basically going through the motions of her job. More people at the care facility should be like Andrew, in my opinion, in order to produce the greatest level of care and to have more people keep coming back to that specific workplace. Also, I like how you compared your workplace to the movie Happy Gilmore. The first reason is because I love that movie and secondly, it is a good comparison as the nurse played by Ben Stiller is in fact mean to Happy's grandmother when he is not around to witness it. That's similar to how the lady with the headphones is at your workplace. Finally, I like how you tied it in to the book because in the other instances of bad caring, the carers simply didn't care enough. That's the case for the narrator in Never Let Me Go as well. Good job with all the comparisons, nice post.
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