Memorizing Books

Last night, The brunet had me read the same book five times in a row. (Courdoroy.) I took it as a challenge to improve my delivery every time. The voice of the bear was pretty solid (I was going for a sort of drunk toddler), as was the voice of Lisa, the little girl who buys the bear (her voice was nasally but adorable). Lisa's mom sounded like she was on quaaludes. The security guard was jolly, if inconsistent, and the salesperson sounded different every time. After five readings, I talked my client into taking a little rest. If, I told him, he could stay quiet and still for five minutes with his eyes closed, I would happily read the book to him again.

I waited patiently.  I reminded him that the deal was for him to stay quiet, still and with his eyes closed. After a few false starts, he had the quiet and still part down, but his eyes were still open. I could tell because I cleverly peeked with only one eye. I have convinced myself that when I do this, my clients don't notice, and that they think I am "resting my eyes" along with them.

All the clients have gone through the same-book-five-or-fifteen-times-in-a-row phase. The repetition is comforting. It lets me relax knowing that, probably, the phase will pass. I had time to think about this last night while I was waiting for the brunet to get bored enough to close his eyes. This specific developmental stage, I decided, is probably very beneficial for language development. It deserved it's own catchy name: I came up with HILT (High-Intensity Literary Training.) There's a whole jargon that could go along with this... Reps and sets, etc.

I haven't googled it yet, so I don't know if I can trademark it...and, of course, it's possible that someone else came up with a better name while they were peeking at their client through one eye while pretending to sleep.

I'm open to suggestions.

Déja Vu

Client review for October 25, 2014

Blonde: patient and well-mannered until not, main offense/defense high decibel auditory assault. Approximate sleep deficit: 7 hours. (See below.)

Blonde off-site with main service provider from 10/24/14 8:00 p.m. to 10/25/14 10:30 a.m. for overnight conference. (See above.) Social development: Networking with peers. Small motor skill development: potholder weaving. Evening literary review: The Pink Fairy Book, "The Princess in the Chest."

Ginger: mildly depressed about and apparently incapacitated by inability to skateboard. Unhappy about insufficient supply of Tech Decks.

Large motor skill development: Skateboard practice in driveway. Small motor development work: Snap Circuits. Evening literary review: delayed in favor of late night walk with alternate service provider.

Brunet (formerly known as Brunette) almost perpetually upset today (perhaps due to lack of adequate rest). Incomplete list of grievances: insufficient supply of tech decks, lack of companionship, alimentary needs not met immediately, etc.

Two separate efforts made on behalf of management to cull Brunet from clientele so as to allow to decompress and possibly sleep. Second successful. Evening literary review: The Grouchy Ladybug, The Diggingest Dog, The Berenstein Bears' Picnic, The Berenstein Bears' The Bike Lesson, Little Critter's I Had a Bad Dream, and Once Upon a Potty.

I took the blonde to an all-night conference. I thought that they would be asleep by midnight or =, at the latest, one in the morning. Nope. These girls would have stayed up all night if we hadn't turned off the lights and asked/ordered them to lie down.

This left the other clients with my partner. I have no idea what they did, and I don't want to know. The main take-away here is that when everyone is short on sleep, we all lose.

Worse Than...

I thought it would be over with by now.

It's not.

Seven weeks ago, we embarked upon a tumultuous journey. By "we," I mean my partner and myself, along with all of our clients. We are attempting to relocate. Our place of business is up for sale.

Truth be told, I was out of town with all of our clients when it happened. My partner was left on his own for two weeks, and when I came back, there was a bright red for sale sign planted in front of our brick and mortar establishment. (I love that story. It's much better when I leave out the part where putting it on the market was a collaborative effort. It makes it seem so dramatic and disfunctional.)

Lots of people say they live at work. I actually live at work. As in: any other place in the world is out of the office. Big deal, right? Lots of people work where they live. I'm just another pro-bono live-in service provider. One of 10.2 million (out of the nearly 313 million) in the United States in 2012.

Having prospective buyers dropping by to inspect the building and grounds may not be a problem for some people. Some may not imagine that it's a problem for me (and let's face it, it's all relative...that's what I tell my clients), but it is. I used to wade through clothes (etc.) in my bedroom as a teenager. In college, it was not unusual for me to leave a pile of (clean) clothes on my bed and just sleep on top of them--until I wore them. Fortunately, I have worked on these bad habits long enough that most traces of this sloth have vanished. The only reason I mention this is to (give myself credit for the progress I've made and to) put things into perspective. Perspective is so important.

It has been a while since we sold or bought property. Things have changed. The way it works these days is the seller gets a text asking if they accept or reject a request to inspect the property at such and such time on such and such date. One can reply yes, no, or reschedule. As the property manager, I feel compelled to approve every request if humanly possible. I have approved every request except one, which I rescheduled for 30 minutes later in the day.

Looking back, I find myself wishing that I had approached the situation differently. For example, if someone had offered me a weeks-long course in applied organizational streamlining strategy, maybe I would have appreciated it more. I have sifted through most of the things that have collected during our years at this location and have either donated non-essentials, thrown them away, or stored them for later. This is what I like to call invisible work. It can take hours, but no one really notices unless it's the person who did the sorting. Not that the effects aren't noticeable, they are! Especially cumulatively. If I had approached this differently, maybe I could have published a paper.

At one point in this process, about 5 weeks ago, I had a moment of clarity. I found words to describe the effect of putting a disproportionately large part of my energy into maintaining a perfectly presentable building and grounds. Soul sucking.

I have never had the pleasure of being audited, but I found myself wondering if there are similarities. (After googling a bit to look for first person accounts of what its like, I got worried that I triggered some sort of mousetrap that will put me on a list somewhere. So I stopped.)

Yes. I get anxious every time I get a request to inspect the property. Yes, even though I know what to expect, I don't always deal with the stress productively. Yes, it has interrupted business as usual. This is one big reason I haven't been typing up client notes recently.

However! I have done so much "invisible work" that getting things in order is not nearly as stressful as before. My janitorial and staging skills have improved measurably, and the clients have added to their skill sets as well!

Speaking of the clients.

The Brunette has adopted a new preamble. "I told you!" He delivers it in his most authoritative tone whenever possible. For example, "I told you, I don't want any meat on my plate!" This after a standoff wherein he stonewalls any inquiry about any preferences for dinner. This new behavior is pretty harmless. He should figure it out on his own soon enough by observing how other english speakers use the phrase.

The Ginger? The Ginger is questioning the terms of our arrangement. He wants to know why restrictions have been placed on his ability to own and operate his own cellular device. He is challenging the established maintenance model that asks him to put time into cleaning personal space as well as shared space. He is unimpressed with the curriculum, schedule and population of his off-site socialization lab. Fortunately, he's ticklish. This provides means to "turn his frown upside down" if you will. When he has completed the program, and can appreciate the network and connections he has established with peers, he'll thank me.

And the Blonde. She is enjoying the predictability and social interaction of the off-site socialization lab (school). She has a male mentor this year who is renowned for being fun and permissive. She enjoys having someone to walk with in the mornings (the Ginger) and has had steady, mostly harmonious relationships with locals in her peer group for several months. When she returns from the lab, her stories are much less intense than last year, and that's a good thing.

Of course the clients know about the steps we have taken to relocate. They often ask if anyone has offered to buy the building. For now, the answer is "no."

Travel Tips, Etcetera

The main thing that I like to keep in mind when traveling with clients is attention span. When traveling on a plane, a client's years with the service provider (z) will give you a simple guideline for a client's attention span in minutes. 

I did the math on this one. Feel free to skip it if you dare to skip life changing tips.

Multiply the hours in the airplane by 60 and you have (m), the total number of minutes in the flight. Take the minutes in flight and divide by (z), and you have (x), the number of activities and diversions needed to prepare for the trip (on the actual plane). For instance, when I use this to estimate the number of activities and diversions needed on 5 hour flight for my three clients, the math looks like this: 

60(hours)=m

m=total minutes in flight

60 x 5=300 minutes in flight

m=300

m/z=x

300/8= approximately 37

300/5= 60

300/3=100

My client of 8 years (the Blonde) will need approximately 37 diversions and activities. The Ginger will need about 60; and the brunette will need somewhere near 100. This method of estimation is admittedly simplistic, but gives a fairly realistic idea of what the service provider is in for should prepare for. Some diversions, of course, can be used more than once. The exciting part of air travel is that there is no way to predict which activities will interest the client! 

Whee!

(Tablets and smartphones make these trips much easier. The only drawback is the drool that leaks from clients' mouths after the second hour.)

Although simple and imperfect, the aforementioned system also helps keeps my expectations low, thereby avoiding the dreaded but unavoidable surprise explosion (surplosion): The beta version for this equation is: A + B + Y(X)= Z

A is instruction provided to the client. B is experience with said client. Y is the setting or environment. X is the Public (either public outside your controlled environment, or guests in a private setting). Z is your expected outcome, which is completely unpredictable.

See what I did there?

There comes a time in every service provider's term of service when he or she feels they've laid a solid  groundwork: a foundation whereon if men (humankind, if you will) build they cannot fall. This would be the point where you have enough experience with a client that you have reason to believe that they will behave in a certain way. For example: you may have eaten dinner with, and given enough instruction to a client to expect them to eat with a fork and a knife when they are seated at a table set with a knife and fork, instead of poking themselves in the eye. Depending upon the client, this groundwork may take years, or decades. This groundwork is equal to A and B in our equation.

The next part of the equation (Y) is the environment in which you feel reasonably comfortable. As a service provider, it is my job to prepare my clients for any and all environments they might encounter, within reason. This means lots and lots of talking and/or forays out of you and your client's collective comfort zone: Home, beach, olympic parking lot in China… The service provider is responsible for giving sufficient background and instruction to the client that he or she has a reasonable idea of how to behave. For our purposes, we will say the environment is the traditional milieu for dining at the home office: the dinner table.

X is John Q. Public. This may be a neighbor dropping off a loaf of zucchini bread, the crowd at Disneyland, or your superiors. (Superiors are often called grandparents, but sometimes adopt less traditional nomenclature; some prefer to be be called by their given name. This can contribute to a false sense of equality between client, service provider and superior.) In this scenario, let's introduce a neighbor into our equation. Your sweet, poofy-haired neighbor who is generous with baked goods, and somehow oversalts everything.

The whole point of the equation is to prepare you for the inevitable surplosion. A surplosion could be verbal or physical. Some examples of a verbal surprise could include a client of 5 years saying something terrible to a perfectly nice, contributing member of society who is minding their own business. Something like, "What happened to your face?"  "Why are you so fat?" or, "You're going to hell because you drink coffee." 

See how this works? 

A + B + Y(X)= Z

Now we plug in our variables.

(years of instruction on acceptable behavior) + (sustained track record of acceptable behavior) + (the dinner table)(neighbor entering immediate vicinity)= (surplosion)

For verbal surplosions, a service provider should develop a means of non-verbally communicating distain, lest the client continue said surplosion. If a client were to ask the innocent neighbor what the matter was with his or her face, the service provider might widen his or her eyes as much as possible and turn toward the client stiffly, maintaining eye contact until the client notices the exaggerated position. This is an updated technique. Years ago,  of course, the accepted technique for dealing with a verbal surplosion would likely take the form of a slap upside the head of the offending client.

Physical surprises are often more exciting. Examples of a physical surprise might include: a client who empties the contents of his or her stomach explosively and unexpectedly during an important meeting, a client who is suddenly morally opposed to wearing any kind of clothing, or a client who screams for an extended period for no apparent reason. I include screaming in the physical surprise category because a screaming client becomes a public nuisance, and a remedy to a public nuisance necessitates a physical change. In theory, this might not make sense, but if you have ever had a client lose control in a public place, you quickly realize how physical it can get. It's like trying to gather up a couple of goats calmly and gently (almost impossible).

The Other One

I have a partner who is mostly involved in the fund-raising aspects of the business, operations, and recreation. This doesn't mean he's not in the same line of work, he's just off the premises much more than I am. He works the day shift off-site, then comes to work the night shift and weekends with me.

The clients prefer him. 

This morning started out peaceful, but once the clients realized that The Other One was still on premises, the Ginger and the Brunette started arguing about access to his cuddle therapy zones. He was willing to provide access to both clients, but the Brunette seemed to think that the therapy provided wouldn't be as effective if not provided one-on-one. 

(Note to self: If contract is enacted at a later date, include section on exclusivity. All clients entering into a relationship with service providers are advised that said relationship is in no way exclusive. All access, rights, services and privileges are provided to clientele as a whole. Service providers will distribute said access, rights, services and privileges at their discretion.)

The Ginger and Brunette argued over access to the other (mostly unconscious) service provider, and (in good faith) I tried to provide an alternative. I am neither as handsome nor as cuddly as my partner, so I worked on selling other attributes. This morning, I decided it would be my conscious state, or the ability to interact with the clients. The Other One had me beat for a good ten minutes. His strategy? Lay on his side in bed, occasionally lifting up his arm to allow small clients access.

Finally, the Ginger had enough. He left the Brunette to The Other One and initiated an impromptu study session of a classic: The Velveteen Rabbit. 

(Note to self: If contract is enacted at a later date, include section on acceptable conditions for study sessions. On weekends and mornings before such-and-such time (to be determined), study sessions may take place in beds in a supine position.)

I was thrilled. The Velveteen Rabbit is a classic, and knowledge of classic literature is an area that I feel is important. There have been a few occasions where I would have referenced themes in the work, but couldn't because the clients hadn't yet been exposed. 

The Ginger was serious about hearing the book all the way through, but the Brunette had other ideas. He stuck his foot in the Ginger's face repeatedly, and kept trying to distract me by pulling my face away from the book. This was frustrating, but ultimately not a bad thing. As a service provider, my goal is to provide training for all kinds of situations. Handling conflict effectively is a recurring theme in our training.

The Ginger and I concluded our text. (Spoiler alert!)

Autumn passed and Winter, and in the Spring, when the days grew warm

and sunny, the Boy went out to play in the wood behind the house. And

while he was playing, two rabbits crept out from the bracken and

peeped at him. One of them was brown all over, but the other had

strange markings under his fur, as though long ago he had been

spotted, and the spots still showed through. And about his little soft

nose and his round black eyes there was something familiar, so that

the Boy thought to himself:

"Why, he looks just like my old Bunny that was lost when I had scarlet

fever!"

But he never knew that it really was his own Bunny, come back to look

at the child who had first helped him to be Real.

Bedtime with the Clients

My husband is far away across the country tonight, and I am sleeping with my newest client. 

It's not like it sounds.

At bedtime, it's not unusual for the Brunette to say, matter-of-factly, "I want to sleep with you." He will then follow me to bed and climb in beside me. He's very warm.

He expects to read a few books aloud, turn out the lights, then get out of bed at least once and ride me piggyback to the kitchen for a swallow of water. (Water from the fridge, in a blue cup, which he manipulates himself, thank you very much.) Remember, there is NO contract, so I can't really say he's in breach. 

Truth is, I almost never turn him down outright. The potential for fallout looms too large. Often, I try to trick him by lying beside him while he falls asleep, then switching beds. 

The Brunette just... likes me a lot... He has his own space; he just gets lonely. He comes to my bed almost every night. My husband knows that this is part of my job, but he does get tired of sharing his bed with an interloper. 

All this bed sharing started with the Ginger. He's the client who refused to sleep alone. I *tried* to explain how important it was for him to learn to calm himself down and sleep on his own. (Our longtime client, The Blonde, had some difficulty with this skill, but learned it in a few days.) The Ginger either didn't buy it, or his grasp of the language was insufficient for him to understand exactly what I was telling him. 

We put him in one of those special holding pens with the padded floor. It was surrounded by bars, of course, per the usual. It just made him mad. He screamed for hours, fell asleep, then woke up and screamed some more.  Hours.

I worried he might have grounds to sue us later for false imprisonment, so I gave up. (Excuse me: False imprisonment is a felony!)

In retrospect, I think if I could've found some commercial on television showing how pleasant the holding pen could be, he might have given in. A promotional video, maybe-- or a movie glorifying life behind bars... 

The Ginger is, by far, the most susceptible to marketing of all my clients. This is why expense disbursements for the Ginger are made so infrequently. After all, at best, they're unsecured, non-interest bearing loans. If he had his way, he would incorporate himself and issue an IPO to fund acquisitions... He would buy anything sold from the following site:

http://www.asseenontv.com/index.php?v=toys

No Contracts

Many service providers are always looking for new clients to replace the ones that they currently serve, but low client attrition is top-priority for me. My goal is to have a 0% churn rate.

There are a few challenges to keeping my churn rate low, but my position also offers some advantages.

The clientele and I seem to have different goals and expectations in regards to my role as service provider. The way I see it, my services have been retained in order to provide on-the-job training to give my clients the skills they need to function positively in society. Skills like, learning not to bite new friends, how to live in a space without having the space condemned due to deplorable living conditions, how to keep their teeth past the age of thirty five... My clients, on the other hand, see my role more as entertainer, personal assistant and maid. 

You see the conflict.

Technically, I have no contract. Every negotiation is done in good faith.

I often think it would be easier if there were a contract. That way, when they make unreasonable requests, like prying my eyelid open at 3 am to demand that I make a Dutch baby, I could refer to the contract and explain that this particular service is not covered in our contract. I could point out that peeing in the pantry, or pooping on the front lawn while I'm talking with friends is a breach of contract. (For the record, only one of these events actually occurred.)

However, having no contract affords me some leeway. I can make up rules as I go along without having to amend a document. 

As I type, my newest client, who has been with us for three years (the Brunette) is making fart noises and hurling himself onto my arms, making it difficult to type.  He is insisting that it is his right to use the (my) computer right now to entertain himself. 

If I had a contract, enduring fart noises and being climbed upon while I write up client notes would definitely breach it.

Weekend Late Shift/Monday Morning

Last night, the clients were very tired and I needed to help them retire in order to get adequate rest.  My long-time client, the Blonde, was shrieking and sobbing alternately.  The newest client, the Brunette, was yelling at me loudly for ice cream, which was a 30 minute car ride away.  Fortunately, the Ginger had moved into his morose state.

I calmly encouraged the clients to prepare for a tour in the car, as this often helps them collect their wits or fall asleep. Moving them from the car into their beds is a bit of a chore, but often preferable to trying to manage them as they wind down for bed. They very loudly expressed their disinterest in this plan, at which point, I provided an alternative: retiring immediately.  The Blonde was still crying and moaning because she had made plans to spend the night with a colleague, but she had neglected to check her schedule with me. I had to inform her that this late meeting would not work with her schedule. She was able to contain her displeasure until we left her colleague's home, but commenced to wailing once we stepped outside.

Fortunately, all of the clients were able to get adequate rest last night and are now lounging in front of a fire. The Blonde decided upon waking that she wanted a fire in the fireplace. I heard her telling the Ginger to work on me if he wanted a fire. The Ginger immediately came to find me in the kitchen, asking loudly for a fire. He borrowed a favorite phrase from the Blonde and said, "I'll do anything!" Instead of rolling my eyes like I wanted to, I decided to take him up on his offer.

"Twenty push-ups," I said. And suddenly, I was wearing a genuine smile. The wood was much closer than I had realized, so the fire was no big deal.

The Ginger told the Blonde about the stipulation, so she got down on the floor in front of the fireplace and started. Her butt was in the air and her push-ups were a little lack-luster, but I said nothing. She insisted that I leave the room to get wood ASAP, but by looking through the wall of windows, I noticed that she shorted me on push-ups. I should have known that the Ginger would report. He let me know that the Blonde had done too few push-ups and even demonstrated her less-than-textbook technique. She immediately became defensive. I just smiled and told her I wasn't mad. I then reminded my client of five years, the Ginger, that it was his turn. He surprised me with 20 slow push-ups in excellent form. He got through 11 without stopping and did the other nine in the same minute.

The Blonde has taken charge of hot chocolate production and distribution.  The Ginger is walking around without pants, and the Brunette without a shirt.

Am planning to ask clients if I may take a break for exercise soon. They are not always supportive. Fingers crossed.