Odd Jobs with Old People

Like my blog, my every day speech is also quite uncensored, but with less scholarly prose. In other words, I use a lot of unnecessary vulgarity in the way that I speak, which may or may not have the ability to cause any civilized person to spontaneously combust. I don't exercise my extensive vocabulary, but choose instead to use all sorts of slang. I speak a language that amuses my peers and repulses the masses. I may or may not be exaggerating. But really, it comes and goes. I have the ability to make someone think I speak beautifully for about ten seconds. I keep it slightly professional at work, with my parents, with my professors. Slightly professional means sarcasm will take over when I can't use the word 'motherfuck' because it could potentially compromise my job or reputation.

Working with old people requires a lot of patience and smiling. The combination of those two things is evil, since I possess the ability to do neither on most days. Sometimes I want to rip off their fucking faces when they screech in constant complaint about cold rice, absent prune juice, consistency of mashed potatoes, imminent bowel movements that need to be released at the very moment you pour them coffee, etc. But alas, I also have this thing called a heart, which means, I'll put up with your shit if you put up with mine. Enter Sarcasm.

"Really? Are you going to die if you don't get another glass of water?"
"What do you mean you need to take your pills. Pills. Who needs pills?"
or
"I would like nothing more in the world than to make yet another trip back to the kitchen to fetch you some tarter sauce which I know you won't even use!"
or
"Mmmmm....Francis, look at that delicious sandwich. My, how that lettuce droops. Look at that oily bacon. Simply divine, Francis."
or
"What's up, babes." - said always in a really bored voice, like I have places to be.

I love each and every single one of those geriatric aliens, and you might be surprised at the fact that they all love me just the same. Would you trust me to feed your grandparents? The answer is always going to be 'no', but I would sooner drop a plate of dishes to the floor than let said grandparent fall (this happened last week to a 98 year-old by the name of Richie). Once, I saved an old Mexican man from choking on spaghetti. He turned the color of sangria, and I pounded his hefty back with my fists until he regurgitated into a napkin. Last Christmas I went to an old woman's room with some strange intuition from the heavens, maybe, and found her fallen and delusional.

I love your grandparents, I care about your grandparents, I'll save your grandparents.