Realizations

I’ve worked in a fair number of nursing homes in my time, and I’ve helped many and many an elderly gent to the restroom, and given many a bath/shower as well. One of the most common laments I’ve heard, always offered in a moment of sad vulnerability and need, is “I never thought I’d be in this situation.”

In this season of my life, I reflect more and more on where I am, and on the circumstances and decisions that had led me here. If I’m not careful, I may give the impression that I am brimming with self-pity, and this is not the case. I have come to see that every single choice I’ve made in my life has ushered in its own consequences. I was dropped into a pond many years ago, and the ripples from that moment have been spreading out across the surface of my life ever since. Much as I am tempted to blame God or fate or evil people or bad luck for my circumstances, I can confess in clear-headed moments that I am where I am because of who I am. Or more accurately, I am where I am because of what I am. I am angry at God quite a bit, but my anger is not irrational. We have a long history, He and I. Perhaps someday I will write of it here.

I offer this preamble because without it, what I am about to express would seem bitter and self-absorbed and self-justifying. But I only want to write this true.

As I’ve stated in other posts, I am the oldest person at my job, and I am one of the few males. A couple of years ago, a newly-hired woman became my supervisor. In the time she’s been there, the corrosive nature of her personality and inner self have come to dominate the atmosphere of the workplace, and the result has been lamentable. I am clearly not the only person to notice this, but I am the one who seems to draw her ire the most readily and the most dramatically. Part of this state of affairs is my own fault — I have never been able to mask my dislike for someone, and this manager is thoroughly unlikable and disagreeable. If I were able to fake it, or to cozen up to her as so many of the younger employees do, I might have an easier time of it. But my cussedness and stubbornness simply won’t allow it. I think back to when I was a young man, wearing a uniform and carrying a rifle for this country in dangerous situations, and I look at this self-important, bullying popinjay of a manager and I simply cannot take her seriously. She is aware of my contempt for her behavior, and ah, there’s the rub.

It’s a terrible thing to be so close to retirement age and to have one’s income in such jeopardy. I have little doubt that I will be downsized or replaced or made redundant if the opportunity arises. At my age, and with my lack of formal education in this rapid, racing world, I would be hard pressed to find employment even as a convenience store clerk. I am one “Could you come to my office, please?” away from being unable to make a mortgage payment. The manager is, I will admit, skilled at bringing in business and bumping up cash flow. And because of this and because of some other elements, she has made herself invaluable to the owners. It is clear that if I were to take my case to the owners, I would lose. I simply don’t have the backing, because I am not the one bringing in the new money.

These things play on my mind constantly. When I am at home with my loving wife, I have to fight to keep my mind away from work issues. On the weekends, when I am immersed in the beauty of my home and my little acreage and my loving wife, a shadow called Monday Is Coming looms over me and blocks the light and chills the air. It is a terrible, terrible situation to be in.

And I never thought I would be in this situation.

~ S.K. Orr