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.”

But Will You Stay For Breakfast?

Manny Duckworth was the most dynamic and amazing group home counselor I've ever met. I have learned from the best counselors, therapists, psychiatrists and teachers over the years, but Manny taught me something that no one else could: that the job could be fun and filled with laughter. I will always be grateful to him for this and I've missed him dearly as a teammate and as a friend since he left several years ago.

Manny had that attractive, powerful personality that kids and counselors alike were drawn to. And the funny thing is that he only stood about five feet tall. He was a boisterous black dude who commanded the room the moment he entered. I remember one halloween, fat Rusty approached me and Manny wearing his worn out, ragged, faded orange bathrobe. As he waddled up, he asked, "Hey you guys, don't you think I look like Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

I stared at him for a moment and said, "No, you look more like Jabba the Hut."

Manny screamed that high pitched laughter of his and clapped his hands, "Dass my Nigga! Dass my nigga!" and danced around the room.

Or Bill, the ultra-mellow counselor, Manny always said, "For someone with as many advanced degrees as him, he sure is one stupid muthafucka."

Manny and I were golf partners, drinking buddies and shared a lot of the same intense experiences as co-workers. Whenever you shared a shift with him, it just seemed to go a lot faster and easier.

Manny's birthday came up and a bunch of us approached him to see where he'd like to be taken out to for drinks. True to character, Manny said, "There's only one place I ever go on my birthday, and you niggas is comin with me. We goin to a strip club in the city."

I said, "I don't get that shit, Manny. How are you going to go pay to look at naked girls when you can't even touch them? Couldn't you just sit at home a jack off for free?"

"Well, when it's your birthday, we know what you gonna do. But for mine, I'm goin out and you comin with me."

I instantly realized, of course, that this outing had disaster written all over it. It was going to be me, Manny, Toby, Mel, Grant (an ex NBA basketball player. I swear to God.), Ricky Kingsley and Rob, a 55 year old school counselor from Atlanta who was going to bring a jug of his homemade moonshine.

The night of the outing, Manny and I were working together until 10pm, and we both had the 6am shift the next morning. The plan was that the rest of the guys would come by at ten to pick us up and we'd head out together to the club in Ricky's family mini-van.

Most of the kids had already gone to bed by 9pm when Manny said to me, "Muthafucka, you gonna just leave this garbage out here all day? Go put that shit out to the dumpster."

"You can kiss my black ass, Manny." I took the trash out to the dumpster. On my way, I had to pass the bike shed, where we keep all the kids' bikes locked up.

I noticed that the gate was open and walked over to it. Sure enough, there was Rob holding a jug of 'shine and all the other guys, inside the shed taking swigs.

"Where you been Stokie? Manny's been out here a bunch of times already. Here, man, have some." I could hear Manny's high-pitched scream from through the kitchen window. I took a few swigs and instantly felt warm and lightheaded. Nice way to spend the last hour of your shift.

We drank most of the jug on the way down to the city. We decided to stop at a bar near the strip club for some festivities before the show. We all ordered a beer when Grant said to me, "Dude, you notice there's only one chick workin behind the bar? Watch this."

He leaned up with his back against the bar. When the bartendress turned to help someone else, he reached his arm back and grabbed a fistful of shotglasses (there are certain advantages of being seven feet tall and having the related wingspan). A couple minutes later, he reached back and grabbed a gallon bottle of vodka. We all sat at the bar and did shots from under the bar, where the bartender couldn't see. I remember laughing and laughing at our coup, hugging my friends, telling them how much I love them and all of us pissing together in an alley. And that's all I remember.

I slowly but surely woke up with the realization that I had been out again, I was going to have one hell of a hangover and the floor felt really good, nice and cool. I thought I was on the bathroom floor of my house. When I slowly opened my eyes, all I saw was orange.

Orange rubber. The orange rubber of the quiet room! I slowly sat up with the realization that I was locked in the quiet room. My shirt was soaking wet. The door was shut. What the fuck was I doing back at the group home?

Suddenly, I heard the familiar shrieking, "Get up muthafucka! Right now! We havin breakfast and you makin it. Get up, muthafucka!"

I rose to my feet and looked out of the door window. On the floor outside was Toby, also getting to his feet. He looked at me, shook his head and opened the door. He said, "Stokie, I swear to God, if you ever try to kick my ass again, I'll crack your fucking skull."

I stumbled out onto the floor and realized two things: it was dawn, an hour before my shift started and that Manny wasn't talking to me at all. He was waking up his Special Kid, Ian (who had such a shortlived high school career).

Ian rubbed his eyes as he walked out of his room in boxers and a t-shirt. "Yes, Manny," was all he said.

Manny turned to me and in all seriousness said, "You stupid muthafucka. You don't get to come with me to no strip club no more. When the girls start dancing, you don't take your stupid ass up on stage and dance with them, and you specially don't try to take off your clothes neither. Yo' retarded ass got us all kicked outta that place."

I stared at Manny, feeling sick, embarrassed, and pitifully hungover. I pulled my wet shirt, which was stuck to my chest, and squeezed out some mystery liquid. Manny's eyes and face began to contort in another fit of uncontrollable, high-pitched laughter, "DASS MY NIGGA! DASS MY NIGGA!!" He was clapping his hands and stomping around the kitchen, "Oooh-hoo, Oh my God, oooh! You a fuckin fool, oooh-hoo! You my nigga, fool, we gonna make your shift so fuckin easy today. Ahh-hahaha!"

Ian's omlettes were fantastic, Manny had taught him well. Just the thing for an early morning hangover.