I never expected myself to be where I am now. Before working at Reside Residential Care, I had only ever held one full time job. My first job was at a newspaper agency as a door-to-door salesman working only twenty hours a week. Being on paid on commission, and struggling to balance my life between work and school, I hated my time there. I worked for two months, quickly leaving. The people there were fantastic, and I truly enjoyed meeting the new faces, but I knew that I had to leave. My next job, my first full time job, was as a machine operator at a paper tube plant. During my time there, I would awake bright—dark, actually—and early at five in the morning to get ready and drive to work. While lots of people would think that being a machine operator would be fun, it wasn’t. I would watch paper tubes be fed into a machine that hardly needed to be touched, cut into even smaller tubes, and shoot these smaller tubes into boxes, which occasionally would need to be moved and replaced with another box. The monotonous hum of the machine got to me. Even with earplugs, the machine would whir and buzz and clank and pound against my eardrums. The worst part was that the machine was my only company. There was nobody to talk to there, and so the machine, and all its peculiar sounds, became my sense of company. I would sing with the machine as it created strange harmonies and rhythms, like my own personal band. This job was better than being a door-to-door salesman, definitely. Still, it got old quickly, and I began to wonder if I would be stuck there forever. I had to leave.
Once I had decided that being a machine operator wasn’t for me, I began looking elsewhere for work. My friend’s mother worked for a company, I had heard, that had deaf clientele and was looking to hire. Thank goodness, I had thought to myself, I’ve found a job where I can actually use the skills I learned in my three years of American Sign Language classes. Of course, I had heard of the work from my friend and I had no idea what I was truly getting myself into. Still, my desire for a change in atmosphere outweighed any kind of cluelessness I had had. Shortly after calling, I was scheduled for an interview. I was excited, and I was nervous, but I was mostly nervous. During the interview, I was more comfortable than I thought could be possible for interviews. There was a unique sense of relaxation at the office. The people were friendly, accepting, and welcoming. I had never had that feeling at work before, and I became even more excited to begin my work as a supported living staff.
My first day wasn’t quite what I expected. I had never had the opportunity to work with the developmental/intellectually disabilities before, and I suppose I had expected some sort of madhouse. The thing is, my misconception was about as far from the truth as possible.
As I walked into the clients’ house, they greeted me with huge, bright smiles. We were strangers, and that’s how we approached each other. They were quiet at first but, nevertheless, inviting. I met my manager, one of my coworkers, and became familiar with the background of my new clients. It was overwhelming, honestly. To learn all of this new information and be expected to perform outstandingly was intimidating, but everyone was accommodating and willing to help me through anything that I was struggling with. After a while, one of my clients started asking about me. Where did I go to school? How old was I? Did I live in Washington or Oregon? There was nothing too personal, but the questions my client asked me were personal enough, and very inviting. Shortly after, he asked if I would like to see his room and to see some old footage of him playing football. “Sure!” I had said, and we wandered back into the house to watch his old clips. That distinct moment was when I realized that this job wasn’t like my other jobs. We don’t do what we do selfishly. We can’t. We do what we do for our clients because we care. The whole job was all about caring!
No, I never expected myself to be where I am now, but I can’t see myself being anywhere else.
