Sandwich Social

Except for Subway Vegetarian on Flatbread with Avocado and Sweet Onion Sauce, I don’t eat sandwiches. Consequently, I’d not planned to attend today’s social.

Then, along about 11:00, I decided to take my coffee and needlepoint down to at least sit with the other residents, so as to listen in and catch up on the latest.

It’s a good thing I’m a meditative individual -- an individual who can walk into any situation and maintain a state of peace, harmony, because I opened the door to the Community Room and walked into hell.

Generally, when I walk in, I get a “Hey, Shirley” and give everyone a return greeting. This time, the room was so charged with hostility that no one addressed me, and I quickly deduced it best I not address anyone else, not interrupt the proceedings, just quietly take a seat as residents were literally yelling not necessarily at but towards the Activity Director.

Didn’t take me long to figure out all the yelling was about Nurse Ratched and her crimes against the residents.

1) She’d recently turned all the parking spots in front of the building to “Future Residents Only”. There is no longer a spot for visitors to park.

In fact, right after I entered the Community Room, a tow truck arrived to tow the lone car in the parking lot. The Assistant Manager had called them to show us residents they mean business but, fortunately, before the driver hooked up the tow, Assistant Manager barged into the room demanding to know “Whose car is that?!”

It was the meeting moderator's car – the Activity Director.

There’s no parking on the street, so where else?

At any rate, Assistant Manager gave Activity Director a pass and sent the tow truck away.

2) Older Sister recounted an incident of being so disrespected by Nurse Ratched that she, Older Sister, came close to throwing down with Nurse Ratched right there in the hallway where the disrespect happened. In recounting the incident, Older Sister was still so upset that she was yelling, bouncing in her chair, and looked to be on the verge of a heart attack.

3) Big Linda, who heretofore had tried to ingratiate herself with Nurse Ratched by acting as her informer, began yelling about how she’d gone to the Assistant Manager re something or other. Assistant Manager said, “I don’t know about those kinds of things, you’ll have to ask D (Nurse Ratched).” Big Linda goes to Nurse Ratched’s office and is told, “I’m too busy, don’t bother me with that. You’re supposed to go to M (Assistant Manager) with stuff like that”.

“There’s just no communication!” yells Big Linda. “They don’t communicate to each other, and they don’t communicate with us!”

It doesn’t surprise me in the least that ingratiating herself to Nurse Ratched didn’t work. I called it some time ago that the nature of the beast is that the devil eventually turns on its own minions.

There were about sixteen residents present including, surprisingly, my depressed neighbor who had quite a lot to say herself.

That also doesn’t surprise me because, even though depressed neighbor is not around much and not involved in much, she does appear to love to complain, enjoys the drama of conflict, and always has something to say about the way things should be done.

Whatever.

So long as it gives her a reason to get out of her depression and live.

I can’t remember all that was complained of but several residents brought up being yelled at by Nurse Ratched for communicating with the former maintenance man.

“Don’t talk to him on my time” they were told. And, if told the conversation was relative to his duties as maintenance, they were told, “Don’t approach him directly, come to the office”.

Someone brought up the fact that Nurse Ratched needs to be investigated for discriminating against that former maintenance man and his wife in refusing them a unit; needs to be investigated as to whether she followed proper procedures in installing her mother in a unit; needs to be investigated as to the legality of declaring a $75 charge for work orders re unplugging toilets if toilet has been unplugged twice before, so on and so on and so on.

The $75 charge is news to me. I’ve not seen anything in writing yet, but sounds like the residents who’ve put in requests more than twice, are being old to pony up $75 and are mad as heck about it.

Inasmuch as concerns are not being heard, paid attention to, acted upon, the residents have asked for a meeting with corporate, and that a regular session be held with residents every three months.

The Activity Director appeared to want no parts of that. She was taking notes, saying she’d bring up resident concerns with her agency but as to setting up a meeting with corporate indicated the residents should arrange it. The residents, in turn, indicated the mission of the agency contracting Activity Director is to meet challenges of the elderly and, consequently, it’s her job to arrange the session.

I don’t know, but I do know Apache is spearheading a lot of what’s going on and he’s pretty relentless. It was he who got us the television and he contacted the right people to force Nurse Ratched to once again open the Community Room to us residents when staff is not on the premises. Management is being forced to actually build the second door required by the Fire Department. It’s going to be front of the building, where three windows now exist.

I’m a little worried about that inasmuch as it will make it easier for someone from outside to break in and abscond with the television.

While the residents were going on and on about Nurse Ratched, a young woman drove into the parking lot and parked where no one is allowed to now park unless they are a future resident. Lucky for her, management was at lunch or they’d have called for a tow yet again.

At any rate, inasmuch as the young woman couldn’t get through the locked gate, she took a running stance and did what I know to be a parkour move (the sport of jumping across, over, around obstacles) literally sailing over the fence.

The fence isn’t really that high, but high enough to impress me.

I was so impressed she'd made it so easily over that I said we should write “10” on a board, go outside and hold it up.

The other residents, however, were on a roll and took it as something else to complain about.

Depressed neighbor was so incensed that she even went out and took down the license number on the girl’s car, though I don’t know what she plans to do about it.

All in all, it was terribly interesting that the Sandwich Social not only turned into a beoch session, but that there were no sandwiches. Instead, residents were served bananas and yogurt. In anticipation of sandwiches being served at the "Sandwich Social", the resident who is a published author of Christian literature brought mustard and mayonnaise.

ROFLMAO!