The Staff

After the "celestial transfer" people, the most efficient crew at the "facility" is the laundry. These ladies are pleasant, polite, have residents' clothes back within 24 hours, and keep the copious clean linens coming My room was next to one of the linen closets, and they always called me by name (not "Honey").

Almost as efficient are the ladies of housekeeping, except that my toilet received too little attention, which I learned during the last three weeks, when I was finally able to use it.

The physical therapist is skilled, but stretched too thin. I befriended him, and that relationsip may have interferred with the strictness that I probably would have benefitted from.,

There is a maintenance man. He is a spiffy-dressing martinet who doesn't seem to do much of anything. His mother is one of the residents.

There is a janitor who mops and buffs the halls. He "can't" do much else, because all the tools and supplies are jealously locked away in the maintenance man's closet.

Several tiny offices are inhabited by women who are usually at the computer and/or fax machine keeping in touch with Corporate, Medicare or Medicaid. These cubicle-sized rooms are variously labeled Head Nurse, Admissions, Billing, Case Management(?), Social Services, and Nutritionist.

The entire enterprise is presided over by The Administrator, a very tall, affable gentleman who thinks he's in charge. He has only been there a few months, and one gets the impression he'll be the next scapegoat when something goes wrong.

The actual power seems to be wielded by a loud, morbidly obese woman who patrols the nurses' station in an oversized rolling office chair. She is always there. . . about 72 hours a week. No one does anything without her approval. In response to any questions or complaints I may have had, I was directed to ask her. I avoided the temptation, because, to me she was instantly unlikeable. I don't abide rude and crude.