Saturday, March 8, 2014

Conversations on The Job: An Actual Conversation

Welcome to the "Conversations On The Job" series on this here blog that no one reads, in which I will chronicle actual conversations that actually happen at my job which I shall call: Conversations on The Job.

I have an...interesting  job. 

Frankly, for most of my life I have had "interesting"  jobs.   

Which is to say that I have held jobs wherein things happen to me that NO ONE believes actually happened. 

Like the time when I was working on an ambulance and picked up one of our local homeless guys who'd passed out taken a nap on a local train track and had his ASS run over by a train. 

Only his ASS. 

The right cheek to be specific.

No joke.

I don't know how these things happen.  I just report on them after the fact.

To be fair, it sounds like a bigger deal than it was.  It was mostly a flesh wound (your ass is very fleshy) and so we took him to the local hospital where they cleaned up the wound, slapped a bandage on it, prescribed some antibiotics and released him a few days later.  

For the next two months  this man called 911 over and over and over again because he NEVER filled his antibiotic prescription and his ASS wound kept getting infected.  Every time  the infection became severe he'd call 911, we'd take him  to the hospital, they'd debride the wound in surgery, slap a bandage on it, prescribe an antibiotic and release him. 

This man apparently NEVER ONCE swallowed ONE SINGLE antibiotic tablet because the cycle repeated.

Over and over and over.

The thing is, that EVERY TIME the surgeons would debride the wound, this poor man ended up with less and less of an ASS than he had before.

So,  every time we picked him up, his ASS was smaller and smaller and smaller until he had one full ASS cheek and one concave fleshy bit that used  to be the other  half of his ASS. 

It was like the case of the disappearing ass.

NONE of my non-ambulance working friends believed me when I told them that story. 

And such is the case now when I tell my non-social worker friends stories about my current job as a social worker. 

Nobody believes me when I tell them stories of things that ACTUALLY happen to me at work. 

Every day I'm having conversations with my clients during which I'm thinking to myself, "Damn.  This is hilarious, and/or otherwise unbelievable, but NOBODY is going to believe me when I tell them about it."

Like the time one of my clients, whom I shall call 'Bob', called me frantic one afternoon because he'd utilized the services of a "lady caller"-shall we say-and then didn't pay her for her hard work which, naturally, caused some problems for her booking agent (aka: Pimp).

The conversation went something like this:

Me: Hello?

Bob: I need you to explain to my friend that imma gonna pay him when my social security comes in Ok?

*loud banging noises accompanied by loud yelling*

Me: What's that noise?

Bob: What?

Me: The banging & the yelling...What is that and why is it happening?

Bob: Oh well, I mean...I just need you to explain to him that my social security only comes on the fifth.

*more loud banging & yelling*

Me: Bob, I'm having trouble hearing you over the yelling.

Bob: I need some money.

Me: Ok, well I can't help you with that.  Who is yelling and why?

Bob: I had a date.

*banging & yelling continues*

Me: Ok...

Bob: And, well Imma hold the phone up to the door & you can just explain it to him, ok?

Me: Explain what?

Bob: Why I can't pay him right now.

Me: Pay who?

Bob: I had a DATE.

Me: *no response*

Bob: You know...

Me: Wait...did you pay for this date?

Bob: No.

*banging & yelling*

Me: Were you supposed to pay for this date?


Bob: *no response*

Me: I think I see what's going on here.

Bob: *no response*

Me: You picked up a prostitute, didn't you?

Bob: She agreed to come over!

Me: Because she thought she would get PAID Bob.

Bob: Well...I meant to pay her.

Me: Did you tell her you'd pay her?

*no response*

Me: So now her pimp is mad at you because you didn't pay...right?

Bob: l told him that Imma pay him on the fifth when my social security comes.

Me: Well how's that working for you Bob?

Bob: Can you just tell him that I'll pay him on the fifth?

Me: This isn't Pretty Woman, Bob.  They don't work on commission.

*no response*

*banging & yelling continues*

Me: That's her pimp isn't it Bob?

Bob:  Can you just tell him Imma pay him on the fifth?

Me: No. 

Bob: But if you could just explain to him that Imma pay him on the fifth...

Me: Bob...

Bob: Please?

Me: I cannot help you with this.

Bob: Oh....Ok

Me: Word of advice?

Bob: Yeah?

Me: Pay up front next time...


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