Since 2006, my favorite headline for my classified ad for PCAs has been Nanny for Granny. It’s catchy, it’s fun, it rhymes.
These days I can rhyme anytime, but I’m no longer fun. I can only be clever in print, but in person I’ve lost my censor, and I’m told I’m no longer even nice. Ask my PCAs. Sweet, lovable Angelic Franklin who told me “You are hard, Cale. It’s just a hard job.” I have too much self-dignity to point out what’s hard for me.
Not counting one-week wonders, I average one PCA per year. I try to prepare them for what I’m sure is my worst failing, my bossiness. in the training, so how did I become this ogre? The woman I was recently replacing told me that I acted superior, like I was better than. This is true, but at least I know that to feel superior just because you have better grammar than some else is poor form. I have a been an editor and my English-teacher self is built in, but I resist correcting spelling on the grocery list, though I confess I gossip about the pca who wrote “sos” on the tupperwear to signify spaghetti sauce. I also confess that I resented spending two hours out of a four-hour shift to explain how to fill out the time sheet. The second time my PCA needed the explanation repeated, I said, “I cannot believe you forgot that already.” A good teacher does not behave this way, so I should not be surprised when my last pca was hurt by this. “I’m not stupid!” she said. “Who said were? I just don’t have the patience to go over it again,” adding “And you’re so defensive!” One day she had had it, and heatedly threatened to quit, I finally acknowledged to myself that I’ve lost my impulse control. I hotly gave her the option to leave, and when she called wanting me to give the job back, I did her another favor and didn’t.
After recruiting, interviewing, and finally choosing one of only two appropriate candidates for my PCA position early March, the newest employee was a no-show on the first day, and the #2 candidate (who didn’t even know me!) decided the job didn’t pay enough. I then did what I did not think possible. I lived for nearly six weeks without a PCA to much ensuing madness, paperwork pile ups, missed appointments, disturbances of the bowels, etc. At least no one was insulted.
When I decided this week I could no longer go without a helper, I groaned with the thought: How many PCAs would recognize my Nanny for Granny headline, “Oh, no not her again.” So I considered an ad headline reading “Granny Eats Nanny.” I will explain in ad copy that granny has become irritable and unfriendly since the side effect of her meds is hallucinating that nanny is a wolf, “but won’t you help us find granny a nice new reliable nanny who can understand granny in her decline?” I am as good as Little Red Riding Hood when it comes to protecting my Granny. Nah, that will take up too much space, I assessed.
So I drafted an ad with “TLC for PWD” as the header. I created all acronyms for ad copy. PWD, is jargon known as Person With Disability, that I followed with ADLs, CPR, AM/PM, M-F, PCA. I’ll throw in a challenge where they have to think: instead of PWD, how about: WWWD? White Woman With… Then I’ll rhyme it with something else. However, Brigit the classified ad lady nixed that as unreadable.
I resolved instead that if you see this, just call me. Ask for LRRH. We won’t talk, but I’ll pay you if you can find my nice granny. I lost her a few months ago before our nanny vanished.