The Beginning of the End, part 3

After that fated in-service, we all made our way back up to our respective units to resume our staff meetings. Echoing in all our heads were Mr. Brayhill's final words, "Typical group home bullshit," which made us realize that neither the group homes nor their employees were anywhere near the Administration's top priorities.

As we settled into our seats, our unit's House Supervisor, Yolanda said, "So, someone from the Administration is supposed to come up and join us to help us talk about our feelings regarding the cuts in benefits. I think it's Pete Post who's coming to join us."

Gus said, "Talk about our feelings? What does that mean? Does that mean we get any say in the budget cuts?"

"No, said Yolanda. "All that's a done deal."

"Is anything we say gonna make any difference at all in the decision making process?"

"No."

"Then can we tell him to kiss our black asses and get the hell outta here? I mean, we got important work to do and he wants to come up here and waste our time talking bout, 'Oh you gotta talk about your feelings.' What the fuck for, they don't give a shit anyway."

"Well, you can tell him to kiss your ass if you want, that's what everyone's thinking anyway."

Pete Post was walking down the path to our unit. Pete Post is now in charge of hiring and training new staff. He's a youngish guy, about 26. His typical work outfit, and this day was no different, is this: a blue or purple longsleeve button down shirt with a purple, squared off, knit cotton tie from the early 80's, tight black jeans hiked up above his navel and revealing his black socks, and black Converse lowtops. Ever since he started doing the Clinical Director, Janette Stankin, his ass and his waistline has been expanding. (Janette is known for her wonderful cheesecakes, and from the looks of things, Pete has indulged in more than a few.) Still, Pete wears the same pants as he did 5 years ago, so as his waist expands, his pants get tighter and higher. He is, in fact, working on his own male cameltoe. He can be seen during the lunch hour walking up and down our expansive driveway either talking or singing to himself, eyes barely open, with a half grin on his face. He has a way of talking to people which at once confuses them and also places him on the technical crew of his high school drama department, the kind of guy who probably repeated Monty Python skits ad nauseum in a bad British accent. In other words, Pete Post is a top-tier dweeb. He sat down with us and began.

"May I assume that there is a general feeling of negativity, which although understandable, and yet in my opinion possible to overcome, is pervasive, something to which the present company all subscribe?" He had is elbows on the table, tapping his fingertips together in a show of thoughtfulness.

Gus turned to me. "The fuck he say?"

Now I suppose one of the things that makes me a good counselor is my ability to understand many different forms of communication. I'm able to easily relate to many different types of people, from the MIT computer nerd to the hardened ghetto dweller.

I said, "He's asking if everybody thinks the Administration is fucking us over."

"Tell him we said, 'Hell yes.'"

Pete went on. "These current changes are indeed lamentable, however, there are other program adjustments to which we can look forward in a positive light. I am referring to my own personal philosophy that the last thing our charges need is for us to repeat the abusive patterns to which they may account their tenure here. I, and a few other administrators are excited at the prospect of creating a program in which we no longer put hands on the kids unless it is an absolute necessity. Imagine the increased amount of respect the children would ascribe to us under such a program adjustment."

Yolanda was irritated. "Pete, you been talking about that for a year now, don't no one agree with you and I'll be damned if anyone in this room agrees with you now. If you want to make some positive changes, you should think about how you gonna recruit some staff members who are gonna stay long enough to learn the job and earn the kids' trust. I don't know where you be pickin up these new staff, but some don't even speak English well enough to talk to the kids, some don't seem to be trained to know when it's time to put hands on. That's one of the reasons staff be getting hurt on the job. Sometimes I think you be telling new staff to never put hands on, and putting us veteran staff in danger when you know some new staff not gonna help you out when things get physical."

Pete said, "My usual mantra regarding that kind of statement bears repeating, I think. And that is: I am always open to suggestions and ideas when it comes to recruiting new staff."

I felt compelled to add my two cents. "Dude, do you ever go to those college job fairs? I'm sure you could find some competent psychology majors who could help us out. I live right near the University. I could totally help out and post some flyers or whatever."

I thought I saw Pete's goofy grin turn into an almost wry smile. "Thank you Stokie, I'm glad you said that. There is a job fair going on this Thursday at the University. Of course I would be happy to accept your help and invite you to put your money where your mouth is and accompany me there. If memory serves, this will not interfere with your work schedule."

I looked around the table. Everyone was nodding and grinning at me, knowing I had opened my big mouth once again.

Gus turned to me again, "Now what?"

I said, "I'm going to a job fair with Pete Post."

Gus just chuckled and shook his head.

Two days later, there I was sitting at a booth with Pete Post at the University's job fair. The administration had hired a professional photographer a couple of years ago so that we could have nice pictures of our kids looking appropriately cute and needy in a display for recruiting purposes. We had those photos displayed along with a big banner with the organizations name on it. There were a lot of students there looking for jobs and I felt really hopeful and upbeat about our chances.

As each student walked by our booth, Pete Post would be tapping his fingers together in his display of thoughtfulness and say, "Greetings, for what are you seeking?"

I sat and watched as each student would furrow their brows and keep walking. Still, each time someone walked up to us Pete would repeat, "Greetings, for what are you seeking?"

"Greetings, for what are you seeking?"

I thought, 'Jesus Christ, no fucking wonder.' Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. I said to Pete, "Dude, is that what you always say to people? You know, not everyone talks like that."

A student walked up. I said, "Hi, do you like working with kids? You might enjoy finding out about our program, here's our brochure, blah, blah, blah..."

Pete said to me, "This is an activity to which you seem well-suited."

"Yeah, well I'm also well-suited to having a few beers when this is over."

"Agreed. I would second that prospect and would enjoy sharing the experience with you."

"Dude, I didn't say you were coming with me. Now repeat after me, 'Hi, do you like working with kids?'"