Back to Life

Probably time to catch everyone up on my life again. It's been rather awhile, hasn't it? I graduated college after that last crazy semester and 'the "F".' I even managed to answer my own "which came first, the apartment or the job? conundrum" (either works, but you need to keep motivated). So I spent a year living the high life in a luxury apartment in Mansfield and working for Victoria's Secret.

Mansfield was fun while it lasted, but ultimately too expensive for 3 20-somethings making under $30K each yearly. My year in retail wasn't nearly as horrendous as expected. Most days I really enjoyed working for the company, but I felt pretty sleazy talking people into opening charge accounts (especially after they'd ask "is this like a credit card?"). I was good at my job, but I'm glad VS wasn't my life's calling. I still don't know what it, but after a year it was time to try for a psychology job again.

I managed to find a counseling-type job with all the bells and whistles--more than 12$ hourly, 2 weeks vacation time, and fully paid health insurance. That I found this job posted on Craigslist, should have clued me in to the deep, icy water I dove into, but I was dazzled by the perks. My boyfriend and I moved to Taunton, to a cozy 1 bedroom apartment, and I learned just what I had signed myself up for: keeper at a 'zoony bin'.

'Zoony Bin' is my lame contraction of "zoo" and "loony bin" and 80% of the time, that's an accurate, and sometimes generous, description of where I work. Essentially the company I work for combines a private special education (SE) school, with a small set of group homes, specifically for teen boys with mild to moderate mental retardation (MR), some sort of DSM-IV diagnosis (usually anxiety disorders or PTSD), and some sort of sexual behavior issue. (See where "loony bin" comes in? See?!). I work in one of the residences with the oldest (and some of the most aggressive) teens. The majority of my day is spent 'counselling' which in the residence means helping these guys complete daily tasks--cleaning, putting on matching clothes, showering, dinner, sports, phone calls, etc.. On great days, this means I've got some of the higher functioning guys, we get back from the school with minimal fuss, finish routines (showers, dinner, phone calls, cleaning) quickly, and spend the night playing sports and watching movies until 9pm (bedtime). Those are the days when I get home and go "Shit, I just got paid to eat hot dogs, go swimming, and watch Star Wars. EFF Yeah!"

Then there are the shitty days. Usually these are days where the guys can't get outside (winter, rain, etc.) or there's been drama building for a few days (and some of these guys are EPIC drama queens). Shitty days make me feel like I've just worked a shift as a zoo keeper, fending off clinging monkeys, squawking parrots, and hoping that the lions don't bite my hand at dinner. Shitty days are the days when there's a physical problem, and often times someone ends up hurt (like that time I got kicked across the chest a few weeks ago). Days when I leave the zoo make me want to find the bottom of a bottle, wine, liquor, whatever.

The Keeper culture is also mind boggling. We've all developed really twisted senses of humor. There are code words and inside jokes for days. Almost anything a keeper says is a double conversation, one meaning for keepers, the other for the guys that live in the house. Some days it seems like that double conversation is the only thing keeping us sane. Sarcasm in a heavy part of Keeper culture, but it has become a dangerous to use lately because there's now a guy living in the house who understands sarcasm pretty well, which means he'll hear the double meaning meant for Keepers, and giggle to himself, alerting any of the other guys nearby that they just missed some sort of joke at their expense.

For the most part that my new life. Working in a 'zoony bin' and living the dream, clearly.