Employee of the Month

So there I was, on the 14th tee of the Mountain Meadows Community Golf Course, preparing to tee off.  It was a short, 125 yard shot over a murky, man-made lake.  Not too difficult. It was Saturday, my day off, and my playing partner was Manny Duckworth, the dynamic and intensely competitive teammate from the group home.

In a couple of hours, I would be attending Short-Attention Span Rudy’s 12th birthday party.  In fact, I would be hosting it.  His own special counselor, Mellow Bill, decided to schedule his vacation this week without thinking to check on his special kid’s needs.   So, I volunteered to be Rudy’s Temporary Special Counselor and put on the party, which basically means take care of everything:  the cake, the presents, the decorations, the meal, the party games.  I was more than happy to do it, I had known Rudy since he arrived at the Agency 3 ½ years ago and we have gotten along really well in his time here.

Each kid gets a fifty dollar birthday allowance from the house as well as a gift certificate to the store of his choice.  Rudy had requested that I take the gift certificate and get him an MP3 player.

So there I was, on the 14th tee, lining up my shot.  I selected a pitching wedge.

 As I drew the club back, I thought:  Let’s see, it’s almost noon now, the party starts at 2.  I’ll be done with golf in about an hour, so that gives me about a half hour to get to Best Buy with Rudy’s gift certificate and pick up the MP3 player he wants.  Then about fifteen minutes to pick up the sodas , prizes for games,  and the cake I ordered from the grocery store, I’ll call the pizza place and order the pizzas during the fifteen minutes it takes to get to the house, put the kids in transition, get the staff to quickly get the decorations up and we’ll do the party.  No problem.

Manny was casually leaning on a club and said, “You know Jenny’s going to be there.  You going all out for her client.”

I said, “My concentration is impenetrable.  Your sorry attempts have no effect on me.”  I addressed the ball.

Fuck.  I forgot about Jenny, Rudy’s therapist.  She and I have had some spats over the years, the most recently over Rudy, in fact.  During a tantrum, Rudy ripped his special blankie to shreds.  This was the special blankie which his dead grandmother had made for him when he was born.  It already had plenty of holes in it, so when he shredded it to pieces in anger and tied some of the shreds around his neck, I just threw it away.  Jenny was livid!

Jenny has been a therapist there for about 15 years, about 5 years longer than I’ve been there.  Over the years, you hear things about people and we’ve heard plenty about her.  Her husband apparently had left her very abruptly to fly off with his Italian floozy girlfriend.  In the mean time, Jenny has taken it upon herself to transfer all her feelings of abandonment on to her charges.  For all I know, her husband is living happily in Italy with his floozy girlfriend.

So there I was, on the 14th tee, taking my backswing, thinking about Jenny and the party.  As I started my downstroke, I thought:  Let’s see, who’s working this afternoon… It’s going to be Toby the militant, plus three relatively new staff who I haven’t gotten the chance to work with. Toby tends to try to take over for inexperienced staff in an effort to help, but usually winds up making the house feel more tense with all his yelling. No matter, I’m just doing a guest appearance. When an experienced staff like me shows up when it’s not his usual shift, the kids are happily surprised, and usually respond positively, whether they love you or hate you on your regular shifts.

I struck the center of the ball with the edge of the blade.  The ball was a low line drive that skipped over the water three times and sunk somewhere near the center of the lake.

Manny said, “You really just playing the best you can right now.”

I said, “You know, I’m thinking I should just get a head start on that party right now.”

Manny said, “I think that’s best.  I don’t want anyone to get hurt out here.  You got my five bucks?”

I knew I owed him the money we bet on the round, but instead I said, “What?  I’m five strokes ahead!”

“Just think of it as a quitter’s fee,” he said.  “You pay me five bucks for quitting, I don’t tell no one how I penetrated your concentration with my superior mental skills.”

I reached into my pocket and paid him.  “Oh yeah, like you can keep your mouth shut.  See you at work tomorrow morning.”

Manny exaggeratedly waved, “Bye-bye!  Say ‘hi’ to Jenny for me!”

I got in the car and shot down to the grocery store where I ordered the cake.  I took my cart up and down the aisles throwing in candy, soda, balloons and small, junky toys for prizes and treats.  I got to the bakery and asked to pick up the cake.

The bakery lady shook her head.  “That the one that say ‘Happy Birthday Rudy?’ That one ain’t done.”

I was pissed.  “What the fff….  Fine.  When’s it going to be done?  I ordered it on Thursday, you know.”

“Should be done in about half and hour or so.  You can wait if you want.” She had the far-away gaze of someone who couldn’t give a shit.

I said, “I’ll tell you what.  I have to go over to Best Buy and get some other stuff.  Can you just keep my cart here and I’ll be back in a half hour?”

“Fine with me,” she said.

The Best Buy was at the other end of the parking lot.  I ran over there to pick up the MP3 player.  When I asked at the counter, the dude said, “We ain’t got no more.  Sold out.”

I got into my car and thought:  Fuck.  Now what?  Well, let’s see… I did leave the golf course earlier than I planned, so I still have some time.  There’s that other Best Buy about 20 minutes away, I’ll just go there, get the fucking MP3, come back, get the cake, toys, soda and shit and still be at the house in time.

I hopped on the freeway and got to the other Best Buy only to find out that they were sold out of the MP3 player too!  I wouldn’t say I was panicked, but I was definitely worried.  I looked around the electronics section for other things to get Rudy.  All the other MP3’s cost too much for his gift certificate, plus he told me he wanted a specific one.

As I walked out to the car, I thought:  Fuck.

Then I thought:  Hey, there’s a Sears right across the freeway!  I’ll just shoot over there, maybe they’ll have the fucking MP3, I’ll pick it up, shoot back up to the grocery store, pick up the cake and the cart full of shit, and be on my way.  I’ll just be a little late.

It was fifteen minutes before the party was supposed to start.  I called the house and Toby answered.

“Hey Toby, I’m running a little late cuz all the fucking Best Buys are sold out of the fucking MP3 player.  Looks like I’ll be about 30 minutes late.”

Toby said, “OK, cool Stokie, we’re not doing much and the house is calm. I’ll tell everybody.  See ya.”

Sure enough, Sears came through with the MP3 player.  I had to use my own money to buy it, so I thought I’d ask the house supervisor, Yolanda, if I could just keep the gift certificate for myself.  I also bought a gift bag and some tissue paper since I wouldn’t have time to wrap it.  I shot up to the grocery store and ran to the bakery counter.

“Is the cake ready?”
The bakery lady looked at me.  “I didn’t think you was coming back.  Yup, the cake is ready, but your cart gone.”

“Goddammit! I said I’d be back in a half an hour!”

She said, “That was 45 minutes ago.”

I grabbed another cart and refilled it with the bullshit I put in it before.  It cost more than the allotted fifty dollar allowance, but I thought, what the hell, I’m making overtime by doing this party anyway.  On my way out to the car, I called the pizza place and ordered the pizza.  I arrived at the house exactly 30 minutes late.

The first thing I noticed as I entered was Jenny glaring at me.  Ignoring her, I called for a community group.  All the boys sat down and I told them that we were about to have a birthday party, there would be games and prizes and treats and if they wanted to participate in the games and prizes and treats, they would have to go to their rooms quietly for a 15 minute transition while the staff set up the house.  And that’s exactly what they did.

One of the new staff, Kristen, walked up to me and said, “I’ve never seen the kids go and do a transition so easily.  Why do they do it for you and not for me?”

I said, “You’ve been here what, 3 months?  The kids don’t know you and assume you’re going to leave any minute now.  Give it another year or so.  I’ve been here forever, they know what to expect from me.  Here, stick one of these jawbreakers in ten balloons and blow them up.  We’re gonna need them for a game.”

As she did this, I heard her muttering to herself, “Another fucking year….”

The party was really fun.  I organized a couple of relay races, one where each kid from two teams ran around the outside of the house and sat on a balloon to pop it and eat the jawbreaker.  There was a field-goal kicking contest with a paper football.  I had promised that there would be a sportsmanship prize for the kid who was the best behaved, and when all ten behaved well, they all got a package of gummi-bears.  The rest of the staff didn’t really have to do anything as the kids were so engaged.

Just then the pizza arrived.  I called another community group and all the kids sat down.

I said, “Now, we’re about to have a nice pizza for Rudy’s birthday, but I wanted to be sure we give Rudy his due.  Come on up here and sit in the Special Seat, Rudy.”  He came and sat in the empty seat next to me.

I led the boys in a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday” and said to Short Attention Span Rudy, “I got something special for you, buddy.”  I handed him the gift bag and he pulled out the MP3 player.

He was thrilled!  “Wow, YES!  Thank you Stokie!  It’s just what I wanted, how did you know?”

I said, “You told me last week and you wrote it down for me three times, remember?”

“Oh yeah!  I just didn’t think you would remember.  Thanks!”

All the kids sat down to eat pizza, drink soda and generally gorge themselves.  Looking up, I noticed JD, the chubby kid who looks exactly like Pumba  from the Lion King, wolfing down heaps of pizza at a time.  I was about to give a little speech about eating like a normal human being when JD suddenly looked up, eyes wide with panic.  He stood up, threw his chair into the wall and ran out the back door.  I had no idea what was going on, and I ran after him.  I caught up to him and grabbed his shirt to stop him.  When he turned around, I saw that his lips were blue!

I said, “Can you breathe?”  He shook his head violently, eyes tearing up in a panic.

I said, “Are you choking?”  He nodded.

I quickly turned him around, lifted his arms and put my arms around his fat little tummy.  I balled my fists together and drove them upward into his stomach, the classic Heimlich Maneuver.  Sure enough, he instantly blew out a huge, unchewed piece of pizza, along with some gobbed up gummy bears.  I was astounded!  The Heimlich actually works!

He coughed and struggled to catch his breath.  He said, “Jesus!  I couldn’t breed!  I thought I was gonna  die!”

“You would have if you kept running, JD.  Now let’s be sure to chew our food before we swallow, what do you say?”  I was shaking with adrenaline, the seriousness of the situation sinking in.

“Fuck yeah,” he said.  “I don’t ever want that to happen again.”

We turned around to head back to the house.  The staff and kids were on the back porch watching the whole thing, wide-eyed.

One of the kids yelled, “Oh my god!  He just saved Pumba’s life!  Hakuna Matata!!!”  In fact, everyone started singing “Hakuna Matata” as JD and I walked back into the house.  It was a good feeling.

As the party started to wind down, I called another community group.  All the kids sat down on the couches.

I said, “I just wanted to say thank you to all of you for letting me come here and participate in the party.  You guys acted great, were respectful and displayed excellent sportsmanship.  Thank you, Rudy, for turning 12 and thank you Pumba for not dying on Toby’s watch.”

Toby was smiling and shaking his head.

I continued, “Now, the party has ended and I need you to do another 15 minute transition so the staff can clean up.  And since Toby is working, I have no doubt that the house will be spic and span when I get here tomorrow morning.  Thanks again, guys.”  All the kids took their satisfied bellies to their rooms.

As I prepared to leave, another newer staff, Bryce, came up to me and said, “Dude, that was like a 2 hour vacation, man.  We haven’t had a Saturday like that since I’ve been here.  Thanks.”

I could also hear a couple of kids talking in their rooms, “Man, I want Stokie to do my party too.”

“Me too!”

Me too!”

I said my goodbyes to the staff and started walking to my car.  Just then, Rudy came running out of the house and yelled, “I have staff permission!  I have staff permission!”

“Ok, ok, Rudy, I believe you,” I said.  “What’s up?”

Rudy took a breath and said, “Ok.  I just wanted to say…you know…thank you.  I know you’re only my Temporary Special Counselor and all, but I had a fun party today, and I think you’re cool, ok?  I thought the party was going to suck cuz it’s Saturday, but it was the best one I’ve ever had.  So, thanks, I guess.”

I said, “Rudy, that means a lot to me, thank you.  I had fun too.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His eyes got big.  “You’re coming tomorrow?  Oh yeah, I forgot!”  He ran back to the house.

I was feeling pretty good after that, of course.  Not only had I saved a kid’s life, but I caused another one to say thank you in a very appropriate way.  Not bad for a guest shift.

The next morning I got to the house and Manny was already there, getting a head start on breakfast.  I know what the new staff meant yesterday when he said it was like having a two hour vacation.  Manny and I work every Sunday together from 6am to 10pm and with the way we use our humor, enthusiasm and camaraderie while we work, it usually seems like a vacation to us as well.  I walked in ready to joke around with Manny about how it was I who really won in golf yesterday, when he said, “Just remember, it was part of our weak-ass union agreement that you don’t never have to sign nothing.”

“What the fuck?”  I was confused.

He said, “Yolanda and stupid-ass Jenny are waiting for you in the Supervisor’s office.  I made you some rocket fuel.”  He handed me a cup of coffee.

“What the fuck!”  What was going on here, I wondered.  Yolanda appeared from her office and asked me to come talk to her.  Jenny was sitting there, eyes averted.  I sat down and Yolanda pulled out a piece of paper.

“So what happened yesterday?” she asked.

“Why don’t you tell me.  You’re the one with the piece of paper.  I came in, we had a party and I left.  Am I missing anything?”

Yolanda said, “I’ve come to understand that you got here late, the present wasn’t wrapped and you undermined all the staff.  So yeah, you missed a few things and that’s why you’re getting a verbal warning.”

My jaw dropped.  “I’m getting written up?  Who did you ‘come to understand’ this from?  Did you talk to the staff on shift?”

“No.”

“You should have.  Did you talk to any of the residents?”

“No.”

“You should have.  That means there is only one other person who could have possibly tattle-taled on me.  And that person can’t even look me in the eyes.”

Jenny cleared her throat and said, “How would you like it if a person you were counting on didn’t show up when he said he would?”  Her voice was shaking.  “And when he finally did show up, he didn’t come through with his promises and went on a power trip, making everyone around him feel useless?”

I turned again to Yolanda.  “Are you listening to this?”

“I heard it, yeah.”

“And you’re buying this garbage?”

“You don’t have to agree with the write-up.  It’s just a verbal warning.  If the same thing happens again, it turns into a written warning.  You’re supposed to read it and sign it.”  She held out the piece of paper.

I shook my head.  “I’ll do neither.  I refuse to be dragged into Jenny’s personal issues.  Plus, our weak-ass union agreement says we don’t never have to sign nothing.”  I said that because I knew Manny was listening on the other side of the door.  “And no, it won’t ever happen again.  You know why?  Because I’m never, ever, ever going to do anything extra for you, Jenny or these kids ever again.  Don’t even ask because I’m just going to put my palm in your face.  This place has a way of chewing up good, experienced staff members and shitting them out the other end.  And Jenny?  Right now the stink is on you.”

I got up and walked out of the office.  Manny was standing there in the hall holding his cup of coffee.

He said, “Pretty much all you can say, you said.  But you still ain’t getting your five dollars back.”

I said, “Hukuna Matata, mother-fucker.”

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?

Entry 2: Short Attention Span Rudy

Rudy (13) has a really little head. He's really skinny, too. The last meaningful interaction he had with his dead, heroin-addled whore of a mom was when she was literally shoving whole vegetables down his throat in an attempt at healthy living. Since then, he has cultivated a unique eating strategy: Cheese only.

He also has a problem with his attention span. Namely, it is exceptionally short. Conversations with him go like this:

Rudy "Hey Stokie, how's your day been going?"
Me "Real good Rudy."
Rudy "That's good...So how's your day been going?"
Me "Rudy, didn't you just ask me that?"
Rudy "Sorry. I just wanted to know...So...how's your day been going?"

Rudy is obsessed with the wrestler The Rock. You can always see him practicing wrestling moves in his room, giving The People's Elbow to his Spiderman stuffy. I'm really concerned that he's going to hurt his brittle bones one of these times he "goes off the top rope" that I've had to be creative with my knowledge of popular culture:

Me "Oh boy, do I love The Rock. Did you know he has a book out and everything?"
Rudy "No way! Does it have a lot of pictures?"
Me "Turns out he's really smart. Takes great care of his body. My favorite part of the book is when he talks about how he got all those muscles."
Rudy "How?"
Me "He said that no matter how much he didn't want to, he always listened to his staff and ate all his vegetables. And he always was honest with his feelings in therapy group."
Rudy "Really? Wow!"