No Country for “O” Men (Part F)
Our homie Okjimm, and I were discussing the General feeling of Malaise that is currently running through our Great Nation.
People are Fucking Worn Out.
If it’s not the Bills Piling Up, it’s problems at work, or with the kids, or the car, or the Politicians WE elected.
Whatever it is, People are Exhausted.
My background is in Sociology, and I enjoy looking at the Big Picture Observing how Humans Interact with one another, and the Systems that Develop from those Interactions.
For about Six Years of My Life, I worked as both a Counselor, and Case Manager, and during that time, I pretty much dealt with Everything Imaginable: Murderers (Even one Serial Killer), Rapists, Child Abusers, Pedophiles, Gangstas, Crack Fiends, Gasoline Huffers, Opiate Addicts, Mentally Ill Adults/Children, and any, and everything else in between.
I know Six Years doesn’t seem like a Long Time, Hell, my father has worked in his Field for 30 plus years (Fucking Nutcase), but Social Service years are like Dog Years (I’m not kidding, that Shit will Wear Your Ass Down with a Quickness), and Six Years was all I could take.
When I left Social Services, I did so for 3 Reasons-
Social Services, as a Monolith, is Fucked Up. The system isn’t set up to Help, as much as it’s Set Up to Perpetuate Itself.
Now, don’t get me Wrong. I met, and worked with some Excellent People who Busted Their Asses, but, Unfortunately, the Majority of them had Exactly- No Power.
They were just Grunts like me who were Hired, Underpaid, Unappreciated, Burned Out, and then Discarded.
And I was Lucky. The Two Programs I stayed the longest were Kick Ass.
Christ, those Poor State Workers.
I remember talking to one of them in court one day, and she told me she had a caseload with 1100 clients (No Fucking Shit). 1100 clients?!!! Mother Fuck. And her salary was $17,000 a year.
Hard to imagine why they had a 50% turnover rate.
Yep, it’s Bullshit, and I’m simply too Oppositional, and my Mouth is TOO FUCKING BIG.
My Supervisor once said,
“You’re great with the kids, but you are absolutely Un-Promotable.”
“What the Fuck you talking about?”
You’d think with a job like that every day would be an Adventure, but not for me.
After about Three Years, I learned all I needed to Learn, and I was left thinking-
Every day it was the Same Old Shit.
“So, and So is acting like a Dumbass.”
“No Shit? I guess the first 30 days of him like a Dumbass didn’t Tip you Off that he might be a Dumbass?”
But it was more than a Intellectuall Boredom. I was Psychologically, and Spiritually Bored/Worn Down.
We made such Little Progress (I wouldn’t even call it a Dent. Hell, not even a Scrape).
You’d kill yourself working with a Kid, and the next Morning the Dumbshit would get him/herself kicked out of the Program, or their Parents would decide they didn’t need any more help, or we’d run out of money, or someone would complain, and we’d be forced to drop a Service, or…
One of my clients, a 10 year old boy with a Severe Attachment Disorder, ended up in the Hospital because we were forced to get rid of our Baseball Gloves.
Here’s how it went down-
It took me a month to get the kid to even sit up on a chair when I visited. For over three weeks, every time I’d visit he’d roll around on the floor or roll under the table in order to avoid any, and all Eye Contact with me because the Poor Bugger was Terrified of People.
He Trusted No One.
Finally, after meeting with him maybe 7-8 times, I’m making some headway.
He agreed to talk with me, if I agreed to go outside, and throw the Football with him.
Well, one day he asks if we can throw a baseball next time, instead of the football (He played baseball, and really liked it).
“Sure, no problem. We have a ton of gloves at my office, I’ll bring a couple with me next visit.”
So, the day arrives, I head into the Office, and-
“Where the Fuck are the Baseball Gloves?!!”
“Oh, so, and so complained that the kids could get hurt throwing a baseball, so, we had to get rid of them.”
“You’re Fucking Kidding ME?!!”
“No, it’s Bullshit, but they don’t want to get Sued.”
I knew he would be Pissed, and more than that, I knew I might lose every Fucking Bit of Progress I’d made with him.
I tried to explain, but he wasn’t Hearing It.
To him, I was just another Adult who didn’t keep their Promise.
He began rolling around the floor, under the table, etc, etc.
He never spoke to me Again.
Two weeks later, he was kicked out of his Foster Home, and put back into the Hospital.
Oh, and the Bitch who Complained?
She ended up getting fired for, get this, giving the kids Cigarettes.
Can’t have Baseballs, but, Here, have a Newport.
3) The Clients, and The Parents of Clients.
Typical Conversation with an Opiate Addict-
“Man, my back is Killing Me. That’s why I got hooked on this shit, you know? Because of my Back. The Doctor gave me those Vicodins, and here I am.”
“Now, is that true? Most people who take Vicodin don’t become Addicted to it.”
“Well, I fucked around with drugs before, but it wasn’t until I hurt my back that I got addicted.”
“How’d you hurt your back?”
“At this job I had about 10 years ago.”
“Ten years ago?”
“Yeah, fucked it up pretty good.”
“Okay, but we’re here to help you now.”
“I know, but this program doesn’t work.”
“Well, it doesn’t work if you don’t try.”
“I am trying. I do everything they ask, and I’m still here.”
“Your last drug test was Dirty. You’re still using.”
“See? That’s some bullshit. I told them I wasn’t using. I told them I was riding in a car with some of my friends, and they started smoking a joint with the windows rolled up.”
“Being in a car with some dudes smoking weed made you test positive for Opiates, and Benzodiazepine?”
“Man, I don’t know what they were smoking, maybe it was laced.”
“They were smoking Vicodin, and Xanax?”
“Mother Fucker, where’s my Glock? Anyone here have a Gun? Hey, do you have a Gun?”
“Nah, I traded it for some Vicodins.”
“Get the FUCK OUT!! Seriously, Get the Fuck Out or I’m going to beat you to Death with this Hole Punch!”
Conversation with a Parent-
“Johnny had a really bad week. He’s getting in trouble at school, he’s talking back here at home. I don’t think this is helping him?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, we’ve been coming for a couple of weeks now, and he still acts the same.”
“It takes longer than a couple of weeks. I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
“Yeah, I guess, I just don’t think it’s working.”
“Did you call the Doctor to see about having him put on Medication?”
“I was going too, but I was really busy this week at work.”
“You found a job?”
“Yeah, I’m working 9 hours a week at the store down the street.”
“Yeah, I could work more, but I haven’t been feeling good lately.”
“Okay. Did you read that literature I gave you that explains depression, its symptoms, and the treatments?”
“I tried to read it, but I didn’t really understand it.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be happy to explain it to you. What didn’t you understand?”
“Well, it’s not that I couldn’t understand it. I just didn’t have the time to read it.”
“Right, because of your job. We can discuss it now because it’s important for you to understand what’s going on with your son.”
“I don’t really have time today. Can we do it next week?”
“Sure. So, did you contact that In-Home program I told you about. It’s a really good program, and they’ll come to you instead of you having to get out, and go to them.”
“I tried calling, but the lady on the phone was rude, so, I hung up on her.”
“She was rude?”
“Talking to me all crazy. I don’t have to put with that.”
“Did you ask to speak to her supervisor or to speak to someone else?”
“Naw, I told her to kiss my ass, and hung up. Besides, I don’t think it would help anyway.”
“Look, your son needs to be on medication. He’s severely depressed, and therapy alone is not enough. We need to get him stabilized.”
“I heard those medications can mess you up.”
“Yes, there are some side effects, but the majority of them are mild, and most go away after a few weeks. He needs the medication. He’s depressed. Probably from living around your Undead Ass.”
“I don’t know.”
“No shit you don’t know. I’d love to know what exactly it is you DO KNOW. In fact, I’m wondering how your Lethargic Ass got Pregnant. What, do you have some naked dude lying around your house, and one night, on the way to the Cookie Jar, you tripped, and Fell on His Dick? AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!”
Now, before some Bleeding Heart gets All-
“But they need Help.”
I know, but, as the saying goes,-
“You can lead a Shit for Brains to Water, but you can’t Make Them Pull Their Head Out of Their Ass So They Can Drink.”
(I forgot why I started writing this Post)
Seriously, I know those people need Help, but here’s the Facts.
I cannot undo the Past.
If I could, I’d be King of the World by now, and (Insert Hot Chick of the Day) would be painting my toe nails.
I’m not a Genie, nor do I know any Genies.
I cannot Save the World.
As Romantic, and “Awesome” as it sounded in College, I just can’t do it.
I’m tired, and I’m not sure I if I have enough time to Save My Own Ass.
Ah, I remember now.
In my last Post, we were discussing Obama.
Obama, in many ways, is like a Therapist, and America his Clientèle.
He sits, and listens, and nods his head, and we think he’s going to save us.
But he Can’t.
And what bothers me about him is, he says HE CAN.
He’s a very Intelligent man, and I know he knows that we know that he knows that HE CAN’T.
But he says HE CAN.
And we Believe Him because We Want to Believe Him.
Because we’re tired, and worried, and stressed, and scared.
Just like the People I used with Whom I used to Work, We want someone else to Save Us because it’s SO MUCH FUCKING EASIER!
Unfortunately, that Ain’t How It Works.
Obama may very well be a Good Man. In fact, I think he is, and I think somewhere in his Head he Believes Himself, and that’s what Bothers Me.
Just as the Wingnuts play on People’s Fears, isn’t Obama doing the Same Thing, but just in a Different Way?
Isn’t he counting on all of us being Worn Down, Depressed, and Starving for Something, Anything other than Chimpy?
Hell Yes, He Is!
He’s a Politician, and his Job is to Win. Win at All Cost. A lot of people have Dished Out the Scrilla, and they Want a Return on Their Investment.
And What If He Wins? What Then?
Have We Fulfilled Our Obligation?
We Rode out the Chimperor, and that’s the Extent of it?
I hope to God Not.
I’ll Suggest to You, Dear Reader, that Politicians are not the Ones who “Transform” Society.
You, Me, the Opiate Addict, the Deadbeat Mom, and even the Wingnuts.
We’re the “Instruments of Change.”
Not some Clown giving 10 dollar speeches to a 3 dollar crowd.
And until we face up, own up to the fact that we are the Ones Responsible, We are the Ones who Let Shit Get All Fucked Up, and most Importantly, Accept that We Have the Power, Not Them, then Johnny’s going to keep getting called to the Principal’s Office, and Our Back Is Going to Keep Right on Killing Us.
They count on us being Worn Out.