Canned Ass

It was a beautiful Sunday morning in Spring. This morning's team consisted of myself, Mel, Guru and a brand new staff named Candace, who, and I'm being as sensitive and as politically correct as possible, was a fat dyke. She wore her opinions on her sleeve and injected any conversation with her sexually and politically charged agenda.

Plus, she had terrible hygiene. When she did a sleepover, she didn't change the sheets. The next sleepover, Mel, would complain that someone had eaten cheese in the staff bed. The first time I worked with her, I walked into the house and asked her (after she had gotten up) if she had cleaned the staff bathroom, as is the sleepover's job.

"Oh, yeah, I cleaned it."

"Cool," I said, and walked in to take a piss. I noticed that, in fact, nobody had cleaned the bathroom and there were pubic hairs in the bathtub. Why would she lie about something like that? When I came out, she said, "I'm gonna kick back in the staff office for a while since we don't get the kids up for an hour."

This pissed me off forever. I walked over to Kyle's room and announced, "If there is anyone who needs to work off their work details so that they can go out on the outing this morning, they had better get up and clean the staff bathroom, especially if their name is Kyle."

Kyle walked out rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, Stokie? I'll do it. I wanna go on the outing."

"Great Kyle. Go knock on the staff office door and tell Candace that you need to clean the office for work details. She'll help you with the rest."

Kyle banged on the office door until Candace opened it. "Hi Candace, I need to clean the staff bathroom for work details. Can you supervise me?"

"But the staff bathroom is clean already," said Candace.

Kyle took a look and said, "No it's not!" He was laughing. He grabbed the 409 from under the sink and sprayed it all over the sink, toilet and bathtub. He took a rag and wiped everything spic and span. "See Candace? Now it's clean. Easy as that."

I yelled from the kitchen, "Thank you Kyle! Just another training session, that's all!"

"I hear that, Stokie. Place was humming!"

"Dude, sometimes you shine so bright. No more work details, thank you."

She walked out and looked at me. "Do you have a beef with me?"

I said, "No, Candace, nothing me and Kyle can't handle."

I had heard that a kid had asked her the other day if she was gay.

"I'm not gay, I'm queer," was her answer.

It was time to get the boys up, which on Sunday morning is not a big deal and can be done in a very casual and slow manner. The staff were split up in different sections of the house and were helping various boys hop to. Mel and I were having fun with Brian, who you remember is not only conflicted about his own sexual orientation, but also comes from a household with two moms. Brian wanted to get one of us staff to go out and buy him a bandanna which he wanted to wear on his head.

I told him, "Why don't you go ask Mel if it's more cool to wear it around your neck. That's the way Mel always wears it when he goes out."

In a moment Brian returned and said to me, "Mel wants to know if you think I'd look better in a bandanna that is 'cool blue' or 'flaming red."

And so it went until Brian came back to me and asked, "Can a person be so fat that their ass eats their underwear?"

"Brian, I don't know how your brain is malfunctioning, but I need you to calm down."

"Okay, Stokie, but I think Candace is wearing a Mercedes Benz sign on her ass."

"What are you talking about, Brian?"

"Just look," he said pointing to Candace, who was squatting down to help Freddy, who didn't need any help, tie his shoe. Her jeans had sagged down to reveal her fat, pimply ass-crack decorated with a string thong that resembled the Mercedes Benz sign. I rolled my eyes and groaned.

Brian went on. "Not only that, but she's flirting with me, and I think that's inappropriate. Every time I walk by, she shakes her tits at me and I think she's trying to make me get excited. Can you tell her that I'd never want to have sex with her because she's fat and ugly?"

"Brian, I can promise you that she's not flirting with you. You're completely fabricating the whole thing. I tell you what, I will talk to her about..."

Just then I realized what Brian was talking about. Candace got up and turned around and walked into the kitchen. As she did, her big, bra-less, pendulous tits shook all around the house and into the hearts and minds of just about every resident in it. I wanted to strangle her for being so naiive. Freddy got up and waved his hand by his nose, "Whoa! Her shit smells like hamsters!"

"Brian, you may not have said it in the most appropriate way, but I know exactly what you're talking about and I am going to help you. I will talk to her right away and get her to make a change, but what I need from you, right now, is to stay in your room until I can get her to make the change. Can you do that?"

"Sure Stokie, no problem. Thanks for helping me. I hate it when big fat bitches shake their tits at me and make me want to have sex with them. The last thing I'm gonna do is start screaming, 'GUACAMOLE!! GUACAMOLE!!"

It was too late. Brian had lost it. Much like 'Whoa guy,' 'guacamole!' was something a kid would yell out to let everyone know that sex was in the air. Strangely, after yelling it, Brian calmly walked back to his room and sat down on his bed.

However, it was enough to get the rest of the house really agitated; voices grew louder, kids became less and less compliant, there was more irritation.

I needed to to talk to Candace immediately. But how? I was thinking that I couldn't say, 'Hey Candace, your floppy boobies are fucking with the kids' minds.' I was actually thinking that she would try to bring a harassment suit against me or the agency if I tried to talk to her myself, so I first called the Administrative Backup so I could get some support (and a witness) that the confrontation was appropriate. Our Backup today was Mike, the Supervisor for the house next door. I went to the staff office and called him.

"Mike, dude, I need some help. You know that new staff, Candace?"

"Biggums?" asked Mike.

"Yeah, well she showed up this morning without a bra..."

"Oh please don't make me come over there, Stokie."

"You gotta come over. The kids are getting all fucked up about it and I don't want to talk to her myself because I'm afraid she'll sue the agency."

"Good point. I'll be right over."

As Mike arrived, the boys were getting more and more agitated. When I walked out to greet Mike, Francis was asking Candace, "Hey Canned Ass, do you drive a Mercedes? Hee!"

Candace was oblivious. "I use public transportation as much as possible."

"Whoa, guy!" Francis ran back to his room.

Mike said, "Candace, we need to talk to you in private. Would you join us in the staff office?" The three of us walked in and shut the door behind us.

I began, "Candace, I called Mike here so that I could have some Administrative support when I tell you what I have to tell you. I didn't want to confront you alone."

"Confront me? There's nothing to confront me about. What are you talking about?" She put her hands on her waist which pulled her shirt tighter around her tits. I tried to maintain eye contact and not wince. At the same time, I could hear yelling out on the floor.

"Well, the thing is, you're not exactly dressed appropriately for the job. I mean, some of these boys have been sexually abused and any hint of sexuality can set them off. I'm sure you've read their case histories by now, right?"

"I was gonna read those on my free time. But I'm not dressed inappropriately. Since when are jeans and a t-shirt inappropriate?"

"When you're not wearing a bra, that's when," said Mike. "And you're obviously not."

"No I'm not," said Candace. "And I can't think of a better way to teach kids, especially kids who've been abused, that the human body is beautiful. We're all just people you know, and
the human body is a beautiful thing."

"Not here it isn't," said Mike. "Here it's a provacative set-up. You can't be out on the floor like that. Did you bring a bra?"

"No I didn't. I didn't think this was such a draconian, backward thinking organization."

I heard Guru's booming voice,"TIP THE HOUSE!"

"Mike, I gotta go out there and help out, it's just the two of them out there. I'm sure you can finish up without me." I winked at him and he tried not to laugh.

When I came out of the staff office, I saw boys running everywhere. Guru was at the Quiet Room door holding residents in while Mel was catching the out-of-control boys and bringing them to Guru. My Sunday was ruined.

There were cat-calls of "Canned Ass!" "Whoa, guy!" and "Guacamole!" along with the usual crotch grabbing and overt finger sucking. Where to start?

I went over to Brian and Rudy's room and stood in their doorway so they couldn't get out. As far as I could see, Guru and Mel had about 6 boys over in the Quiet Room and there were a few who had turned on the TV and were watching without any problem.

I saw Mel run out of the Quiet Room Area, catch one of the kids, Manuel, and walk him to the Quiet Room. Manuel was a funny little Mexican, pudgy and bossy. Whenever you gave him a direction or a time out or generally said something he didn't like, he would respond with,

"I don't HAVE TO! I'm gonna TELL! Then you're going to JAIL! Cuz I'm gonna call the COPS! And then they're gonna SHOOT YOU! Because I know the number to nine one ONE!" He was so authoritative, fat and pompous about it that I nicknamed him "El Presidente."

Mel led him by the collar and handed him off to Guru who was standing by the Quiet Room door, holding the lock so that the 5 or so other residents could not come out. As Guru took hold of El Presidente, and as Mel left the area, some of the boys in the Quiet Room managed to push the door partially open. Instinctively, Guru pushed the door, and El Presidente into it. This action scraped El Presidente's face against the door. El Presidente was yelling at Guru,

"You're gonna go to JAIL! I'm gonna tell on your ABUSE! My dad's gonna come here and SHOOT YOU!"

On the other side of the house, I saw Candace emerge from the staff office, arms folded, and walk out to her car. Mike came out after her and told me, "I already called for back-up so there will be more staff here soon. What do you need me to do?"

I said, "Go help out Guru. He's got too many kids in the quiet room and he's by himself. Mel and I will watch the floor."

It took about an hour and a half for the house to calm down. Even then, there was a tenuous and uncomfortable sexualized feeling in the house. Candace never came back.

After lunch, I took most of the boys out onto the back porch to play basketball. Every now and then I would glance inside to see what was going on. At one point, I saw El Presidente on the phone. I figured that he had gotten permission from another staff to call his family. As it turned out, all of us staff had thought the same thing, wrongly.

In a few minutes, a sheriff's car pulled up to our house. The deputy knocked on the door and said, "Is there a staff here named Guru? May I talk to him please?"

El Presidente had called 911 and said Guru had hit him and thrown him on the floor. El Presidente had scrapes on his face to "prove" it. Although Guru had explained to the deputy what had happened, technically the intervention was illegal because Guru was handling the kid by himself. After interviews were conducted, Administrative staff called to the house and El Presidente immediately transferred out of our agency and into a temporary shelter, Guru was put on Administrative leave. I can't tell you how difficult it is to lose a seasoned staff member like that. Maybe the only thing harder is to dispel the belief in the residents that all staff are abusive.

Two weeks later, Guru had been transferred to the "transition house," the house for 17 and 18 year olds whose programs do not require hands-on. If they act up, you just evacuate the house and call the sheriff. I ran into Guru not long after he had been put out to pasture.

"Guru, I'm really sorry about what happened. When the whole house is blowing out like that, it's just impossible to go by the book."

Guru was philosophical. "I've been here 17 years, I may be here 17 more. This is what I was born to do, and I'll keep on doing it as long as I'm able." He pushed out his eyes for effect, took a long draw on his cigarette and stared out into the distance. I had to wonder if Guru was thinking the same thing as me. How could we have all been so stupid as to let El Presidente and a staff named Candace who had been here for all of 2 minutes mess up the career of a dedicated staff who had been here for 17 years?

The Beginning of the End, part 2

I've always said that in this environment there is one thing that is completely predictable: the unpredictable outrageousness of the kids. If there is one thing you can rely on, it's
the variability of insanity. Anyone who has worked in this type of group home for any length of time can tell you that there will be at least one crazy event a day. You just accept it.

That said, the things that are less acceptable are the varying reactions and behavior modification strategies of the staff. Even less acceptable is the incompetence of the therapists who try to work out their own issues by projecting them onto their clients. However, the most unacceptable reality we as group home counselors face is the absolute, uncompromising lack of support by the administration.

Every month the administration hosts an "in-service." That is, the administration is credited money from the involved counties for holding an in-service. Whether or not an in-service is actually held every month seems to be dependent on whether anyone in the administration is actually prepared to present one. They usually occur about once every 3 months, give or take.

An in-service is basically a training meeting meant to keep the counselors, house supervisors and therapists up to date on issues such as behavior mod, medications, issues and trends in the psychology world. One of my favorites was when a nutritionist was invited to talk about healthy eating habits and we were treated to donuts and punch as refreshments. Talk about being unclear on the concept! Donuts and punch are provided at pretty much every in-service.

One of the nice things about the in-services is that the responsibility of taking care of the kids falls on the school staff. No matter what the circumstances, the school staff is expected to handle anything that comes up. It is the one time when the group home counselors will not be relied upon to handle the problems that come up at school, which is usually the case.

From the very beginning of this particular in-service, you could tell something was different. For one, all of the upper management administrators were there, and they all had very concerned looks on their faces. Not only that, as we filled the second floor conference room which overlooks the newly renovated arboretum and fountain, everyone noticed the head honcho himself, Ryan Brayhill, front and center, preparing to speak. I had never actually seen or met Mr. Brayhill,I had only seen his picture in our newsletter, usually dressed in his suit and tie. His conspicuous absence was generally interpreted as an indifference to the lowly group home counselors and their concerns. Here, he was dressed in jeans and a leather bomber jacket, obviously dressing down to more easily relate with us lower-category workers. This must be bad news.

The presentation was carefully staged. Ricky Kingsley, the head of the Recreation Department stepped up to speak. I had known Ricky from way back, when he started off as a group home counselor, like me. In fact, everyone knows him pretty well, he is very personable and well-liked due mainly to the fact that he could relate to us because he actually was one of us. It was a good plan, if not an obvious one, to have him start off this meeting to help us ease in to whatever the difficult news would be.

He began, "I just want everyone to know that the decisions that have been made in the last several meetings were very difficult and we have had nothing but your well-being as counselors and as people in mind." I know how hard it is to do your job and I totally sympathize with your concerns, but I'm afraid we have had to make some tough choices due to budget cuts. If anyone wants to talk about it after the meeting, I'll be available and open to any of your thoughts. With that, I'd like to introduce Ryan Brayhill, who is the CEO of the organization. Mr. Brayhill?"

"Oh, great," I thought. I was sure he was going to announce a reduction in the food budget, or how we couldn't afford outings anymore, or some such ridiculous decision.

He stepped up, flanked by all the higher ups of the administration. "These are hard times for all the non-profits across the state and country. We are really at the mercy of the bureaucrats at the state capitol when it comes to our annual budget. Not only that, but being a non-profit, we rely on donations to a large extent, and they are drastically down. So I wanted to come down here myself to let you know the kinds of cuts we're making. It's painful to announce, but after a lot of deliberation, I think it's the right decision. What will be happening is that we are going to make an adjustment in your benefits package. From now on, we will be making cuts in your medical coverage; we will ask you to contribute to half of your coverage, and we will no longer be covering care for your dependents...blah, blah, blah."

I looked around the room. I thought about what these cuts would mean to the people here. Many of these counselors and House Supervisors have kids. I have two kids myself. The room was silent for a moment, everyone letting the news sink in. Then Yolanda, our House Supervisor, was the first to speak.

"So Mr. Brayhill, I want to make sure I'm understanding this right. What you're saying is, you expect us to take care of somebody else's kids, but you're not going to help us take care of our own kids. That's what you're saying, right?"

Mr. Brayhill looked annoyed. "No, that's not what I'm saying, I'm saying this whole process has been very difficult..."

"But not as difficult as it will be for us to get our kids coverage. Is it any wonder that staff turnover is so high? It's decisions like this that make staff want to find other jobs. I mean, I love working with these kids, but I won't be able to do it unless I can get coverage for my own."

Yolanda had made an excellent point, one I completely agreed with. I felt compelled to speak, as well.

"Mr. Brayhill, how can you come down here and tell us this stuff while, during the last month, we've sat and watched that nice new white fence go up around the horse stables? I mean, couldn't you have used that money to help us out? And what about the horses? Why would you choose to improve the lives of animals over the humans who actually do the work?"

Mr. Brayhill was turning red with frustration. "Hey! Let's get one thing straight. That fence was paid for by a private donor who specified that it go to the horses. I would have loved to use that money for you all..."

I interrupted, "Then it should be your job to explain to that donor that there are greater needs around here than a nice new fence for the horses when the front line staff who do all the work are suffering. Why didn't you tell the donor that, Mr. Brayhill?"

"I'm not going to stand up here and let some group home counselor tell me how to do my job. At least you should appreciate the fact that I'm telling you personally. I didn't have to do that, you know."

Sloppy Scott spoke up. "You know what I heard? I heard that we're the only ones who are getting cut like this. Is that true? Why aren't the administrative staff getting their fair share of the cuts?"

Apparently that was enough for Mr. Brayhill. He turned and yelled at Scott, "I think it's a fucking shame that you counselors keep getting injured on the job, which is costing us hundreds of thousands of dollars!"

The room was once again silent, most of our jaws had dropped at Brayhill's outburst. Just then, heavy, stomping, and sloshing footsteps could be heard on the steps. Then, a familiar sounding voice exclaiming, "Aw, fuck yeah! Donuts!" We all turned to look and saw Kyle, shirtless and soaking wet pounce on a donut box and pull out an eclair. He then turned and saw the room full of staff just as he was about to stuff the eclair into his mouth. He was momentarily stunned, but quickly composed himself.

"What's up, bitches? I'm fuckin' AWOL, now what?" He began to run around the room, expecting someone to chase him. No one moved. He stopped at the front of the room, next to Mr. Brayhill. He waved his soaking shirt in the air and pointed at various staff. "Fuck you, fuck you, oh yes, and fuck you, and especially fuck you..." He then held the eclair down at his crotch, squeezed out the custard and jammed the whole thing in his mouth. Still, not one counselor flinched or moved a muscle.

Janette Stankin, the Clinical Supervisor agitatedly said, "Well someone has to stop him!" and approached Kyle. Kyle ran out of the back door, out on to the veranda and disappeared down the breezeway. Janette ran after him, oblivious to the fact that no one else was participating in the chase.

At that moment, more footsteps on the stairs. Then, "Oh, shit, dude, there's donuts!" Two of the school staff walked into the room. Seeing that there was a meeting in progress one asked, "Oh! Yeah, we're looking for Kyle. He ran out of class and took a dip in the fountain."

Half the room pointed to the back door. "Thanks man, he's probably going back for another swim." The two left out of the back door and disappeared.

All eyes returned to Mr. Brayhill.

"Typical group home bullshit," he said as he turned and exited down the stairs.

I don't think any 15 minutes in the history of the organization did more to lower staff morale than that meeting.

Entry 17: Kyle's Hygiene is not good

There are many things you can learn from our residents just by taking the time to have a nice talk. But you can learn even more from the things they do when they're "off the hook", meaning acting out, having a tantrum or otherwise displaying generally insane behavior. During these episodes, residents are able to communicate feelings or memories they otherwise wouldn't be able to verbalize. All it takes is a sparking event that reminds them of some past abuse and they're off.

Remember Kyle from Entry 10: Kyle's Mom is Fat? When he showed up, we realized almost instantly that he was hyper-sexualized. Whatever Kyle's incredibly fat mom (I'd guess 400-450 lbs) did to him to make him this way, it was (obviously) sexual in nature and occurred in the bathtub.

We know this because a). we couldn't get him into the bathroom for the first 5 months he was with us without him running out of the house or trying to assault us at the first mention of taking a shower, and b). he loves to show us pictures he has made of "aliens" which coincidentally resemble really fat women with 10 breasts with knives at the ends and huge vaginas with teeth. He says these aliens should be avoided because they like to slash off the penises of little boys.

As a result of this, Kyle's hygiene has sucked for a while. Somehow, a big-ass fungus lump began growing out of his tongue. I really didn't understand what the hell it was and still don't but I want you to just imagine a dirty fat kid sticking out his tongue and laughing about a grey mushroom that is growing out of the center of his tongue.

He got it surgically removed and received a get well card from his mom, who is court ordered to stay away from him, but can still contact him through the mail. In support, she wrote, "Well, at least now you can eat all the ice cream you want for a week." I guess it would be worth it to her to go through tongue surgery if she knew she'd get to eat all the ice cream she wanted.

Then, for some reason, she included two bizarre "gifts" in the letter: a magazine cut-out recipe for barbequed rattlesnake, complete with pictures of the snake being eviscerated, and an old picture of Mom kissing baby Kyle. Mouths open, mind you.

Well this was too much for Kyle to handle. Hell, I could hardly believe it myself. The picture was disturbing. At first I thought Mom was trying to eat the baby. Kyle flew into a sexualized rage, tore up his clothes, stuck his underwear over his head and accused staff of jamming snakes up his ass.

If the mere thought of taking a bath with Mom brings up this much trauma, is it any wonder he doesn't want to keep clean?

Entry 10: Kyle's Mom is Fat

We've always wondered how Kyle got so fat and sexualized. The annual Thanksgiving party gave us some clues.

When his mom, brother and fat family friend pulled up, the car was listing to the right, no joke. The muffler was dragging the ground, and not because it was unlatched. The mom was too fat to drive. Kyle's little brother hopped out and started singing and dancing, "I'm too sexy for my brother, too sexy for my brother!"

Mom took a long time to get to the front door and when she did, she was wheezing and filled up the whole doorway. She's an angry woman with a chip on her shoulder and a permanent sneer. She slammed her fist on the counter and shouted, "I know just what you're thinking. We look exactly alike!" Actually, we had put Kyle on a diet and he was slimming down.

Mom had brought a pie that she said was to share with the whole house. But instead of sharing, she sat down with Kyle and, with everyone watching, ate the whole damn thing, occasionally shoving some in Kyle's mouth. This was before the dinner had even started. She kept him in her lap the whole time, rubbing him all over with her paws. When she finally let him go, he and his brother were discovered a short time later rolling around on his bed.

We then said it was time for her to leave. She flew into a rage and promised to sue everyone responsible for messing up her "baby."

She did eventually go to court, and perhaps not surprisingly, was ordered to stay away from her son.