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.