Shut Up And Get Lost
I was asked for help by a senior citizen that I know to find out information on assisted living facilities in this area. They want to return to D.C. and they needed help in making new arrangements, as they see their abilities to continue living alone as diminishing. I was happy to oblige. Driving through some not very nice parts of the city, I couldn't help but notice how many slummy apartments bear these baronial names like..."The Newport," "The Willoughby Arms," "Bodleian Court," when they should really come clean and call themselves "MS-13 Mews," or "Carjack Crescent."
Where I was headed was a gated campus, quite spread out with two levels of retirement living: Independent and Assisted. There were even levels within those levels: three in Independent and five in Assisted. I began by being cleared by the guard at his post house and barricade, then I was directed to drive a distance to the "Town Center."
Upon arriving, I approached the information desk where Debbie, the "Communications Specialist," was chastizing a repairman. I know she was Debbie the Communication Specialist, because it said so on her tag. This was a sprawling community involving many roads, many buildings and many hallways, and this man was lost, trying to find out where he was supposed to go next with his toolbox in hand. "Shut up," she said to him. "I want you to just shut up and listen to me." This was an older gentleman, I should add. I paid heed to Debbie's convoluted directions, and I realized I wouldn't be able to find it myself. "You go down two miles into the area that is still under construction (no name road), then you go right, then you make another right, then you make a left, then you make a right, then a left, right, left. This will dead end, and then you make a left, then a right, left, left, right."
You go back to Debbie and say, "Eff you Debbie. EFF YOU!
...and here's five ways to eff yourself."
After this a resident shuffled up to the desk to retrieve a package, and I wanted to scream at her to run for it. This was in the Independent Living section, thank God, because if it was Blissful Dale (not real name) which is the Assisted Living section, those people would be in B-I-G trouble. When Debbie got to me she directed me to the door past "the plant there on the floor on the left wall." I almost wanted to toy with her (since there were three plants at that spot) and say "Which plant, Debbie? The first plant, the second plant or the third plant? The Philodendron Selloum, the Dieffenbachia or the Chamaedorea Elegans?" Leaving the campus, I couldn't help but think that Debbie learned her communication skills from Little Richard.