I, too, worked as a waitress in an old age home at that age. My experiences were more positive. I guess because I was so concerned about the job itself, how to do it - it was my first job - and I never connected with the fact that they were old until I was helping one to his feet, and he was shaky like my grandpa and had the same face and build. It blew my mind, but by that time I was used to being around oldies.

One day I was going for the elevator and it was almost full. A very confused old guy got on and the door shut. Immediately after, an orderly came by and saw me standing there, so he pushed the elevator button to be helpful. The elevator hadn't moved yet, but the old guy got off, saw me, and his jaw dropped. "How did you get here?" he asked. I had a hard time convincing him to get back on.

In the winter time, the cook used to fill up a cooler (the kind with a tap) with orange juice so the oldies could come have a drink whenever they wanted, and so get more Vitamin C. The same guy who pushed the elevator button wasn't paying attention when he had to fill it up, and he filled it with Clam Juice. Whew! You should have seen the faces when they tried it.

One woman was convinced that I was her daughter-in-law and she was always so surprised and happy to see me.

This was the same place that I made a foray into the men's room.