Surname not included.
I think it's pretty obvious why, if you're read any of the entries. Most of them paint either me, the other staff, or the residents in a less-than-perfect light. I prefer not to make residents look like mental cases... but in some cases, it's what they are. So the residents' names are all changed, too.
You might well have thought old people are not funny. I used to think that. Well, they are. And you probably think it's mean to laugh at old people. Well, it is. Of course, it's bound to cause some horror that I am laughing myself stupid at something an oldie did this week.
We are all going to be old one day. I hope that when I turn wrinkly, some young person gets a laugh out of something that I say.
I live in a middle-class suburb in Australia. I'm an ordinary girl with a rather menial job. My job is to set the tables, place the pre-cooked food into the oven, slop the soup into their bowls, dish up the delectable food, then make tea and coffee. After that, I wash dishes and mop the kitchen floor. Are you jealous yet?
I'm actually tertiary-qualified in a totally unrelated field. While three-quarters through a second qualification I became completely burned out, quit my studies, and sat on my butt amassing tremendous debt. Fortunately my relatives felt disgusted at my plight and were kind enough to drag me into helping out at this place. And I'm still here. It seems like when you're earning enough money to live on, and you hate the jobs that you're qualified for, it's very easy to just stay and never move on.