How I stuck it to the bitch in charge
Once upon a time I worked in a residential home. Although those who lived there became residents before they needed nursing care the home operated what was cheerily called a 'till death policy' which meant the home would cater, as much as it was able, for the changing needs of the residents stepping up to nursing care where required.

I was a young 17 year old girl, my career advisor had told me to that I would be suited to becoming a nurse. I quickly secured a job at this exclusive residential home in a very upmarket location on the Wirral. The home looked like a beautiful place to live: large open living rooms, a large dining room with linen table cloths, everywhere was carpeted with expensive looking swirly carpets, high ceilings, large doorways. The interview process was brief: I confirmed my name and interest in the position, was issued with a uniform and told to arrive at 8.00am the following morning. I was contracted to work 36 hours per week.

The work at first was hard and soul destroying. As I was the most recent recruit the tradition was that you are made responsible for residents who are incontinent. I was given no training on how to change residents to ensure their dignity and no manual handling training. At the time I was too eager to be well liked and progress that I didn't speak up. I was also shit scared of the manager who had a sharp tongue.

After I'd gotten over the initial shock of what the work entailed little details began to cause me real concern. The heating was on high 24 hours a day to keep the residents warm, it also kept the staff in thick cotton uniforms and tights a veritable candida breeding ground. However the itchyness of my muff was not my concern. The servery which housed cups, plates and glasses was also home to the condiments which accompanied the residents' meals. Huge wholesale containers of Happy Shopper mayonnaise and tartar sauce. Checking the labels of these hydrogenated fat filled vats of cholesterol, becoming translucent in the heat confirmed they did contain egg. That's right, egg based product held unrefrigerated in the equatorial temperatured servery being dipped into with buttery knives meant cross contamination was rife.

It was common knowledge amongst the staff that many of the residents were thought to be weak stomached, suffering from diarrhea and vomiting with reasonable regularity. Being keen of eye and shy of mouth I began to keep watch of which residents were ingesting the foul salmonella laced condiments and sure enough they were being ill. I voiced my concerns to the nursing home manager as tactfully as I could, she went ape shit and accused me of being a mole from the environmental health, called me a busybody and a jobs worth and made me feel like shit for speaking up about the health of the residents. She then proceeding to make my life increasingly difficult for the next week. She locked the incontinence pads cupboard and then went out shopping meaning I had to leave residents in filthy soaking pads for hours with no means to change them. She put me on the bath rota for 5 residents per evening meaning I had to rush the weekly baths and upset the residents.

In short - she was an evil bitch.

I started to notice more and more things. There was a cook in employment by the home who prepared the meals for the residents. The kitchen, in the basement, was a complete health hazard. None of the sides had been cleaned properly in a long time, there was raw meat in the fridge above cooked meat, supposedly vegetarian meals were made with beef dripping. One resident's special dietary requirements of low potassium were completely ignored.

Fast foward about four weeks I come down with a terrible chest infection. I really shouldn't go into work for risk of infecting the residents. The elderly with weakened immune systems could quite easily be finished off by a chest infection. I called up the manager and said that I had a chest infection, she lambasted me on the phone and told me I must come in as noone could cover my shift. I arrived at 8.00am just as my colleague who had covered the night shift was leaving, she met me at the staff entrance with the message "[the manager] says that if you're not well to go home because she doesn't want to listen to you moaning". I saw red, not only because I had a dragged myself in partially out of fear and partially from a mistaken sense of duty when I was very unwell but to met with that message made my blood literally boil. I stomped into the staff room slamming my feet on the parquet floor to show my annoyance. The manager looked up from her morning cigarette with disbelief at the level of noise I was causing. Before she could speak I barked

"SHALL I GO HOME THEN? BECAUSE YOU DON'T WANT TO LISTEN TO ME MOANING?"

She looked away amused and said 'Yes' dismissing me with a flick of her hand.

"RIGHT THEN, GOOD LUCK FINDING SOME NEW STAFF"

And with that I unzipped my stripey green uniform, stepped out of it and marched out in my bra and tights, my head held high. Two days later I received a letter from management stating that I wouldn't be paid my owed wages due the manner of my resignation and not working the required notice period. I wrote them a very polite letter back stating that they were legally obliged to and also referencing in a veiled threat that I had never signed anything to say I opted out of the 48 hour working week arrangement (I had regularly been working over 60 hours per week). Within two days I received a cheque for my owed wages. I then shopped the fuckers to the Care Standards Authority and the Environmental Health.

The home was sold shortly afterwards to a private Healthcare agency who took it over and improved the standards so I heard from my former colleagues.

Bastards, served them right.
(Fireyfox is prepared to change, Sat 19 Jun 2010, 21:12, 12 replies)

Nice one! That showed the buggers!!
( Vambo, Sat 19 Jun 2010, 21:31, closed)

Glad you shopped them
Some old fellas can be really nice and interesting people to know, it really upsets me that they can be treated so badly when they need the most help.
( Greenbat, Sat 19 Jun 2010, 21:35, closed)

This ^

(xanthine, Sun 20 Jun 2010, 13:06, closed)

There are some horrific nursing/residential/care homes out there
Trouble is that the people who end up there (the elderly, mentaly disabled ect) tend not to have much say in things, or much of a voice in society so they pretty much get ignored unless you happen to have a realy good staff team. As someone who's worked in some good residential homes, and some bad ones (admittedly not ones catering for the elderly, just learning disabilities) it sounds like you got a pretty appaling one. I realy hope your experiance didn't put you off a carreer in nursing though, because working in care can be a very rewarding job if you get to work for a good company.
(Fredz A graveyard of hopes, a dump of ambition, Sat 19 Jun 2010, 22:31, closed)

Sadly...
It did put me off a career in nursing. Not entirely sure I was ever really cut out for it anyway.

When my careers advisor told me I should pursue a career in nursing there was no one more surprised than me but I gave it a whirl. I probably could have made a half decent nurse but I'm not sorry that I now work in IT!
(Fireyfox is prepared to change, Sat 19 Jun 2010, 23:18, closed)

good for you miss... Im a nurse - i now work in private healthcare but i have to do a mandatory 6 days a year NHS (placed on any ward short staffed)

I was at my local NHS hospital just last week, and i gave all the staff a nice lecture about how the ''alcho-wipes'' they had been using for the past forever were not alcho at all.. nor disenfectant. They had been cleaning their entire ward with NO bacteria killing cleaning fluid EVER.

Unbelievable.
(nettestar meeow, Sat 19 Jun 2010, 23:34, closed)

that had lots of words, but I'm sure they made sense

( mr horrible up yours, dickface, Sat 19 Jun 2010, 23:48, closed)

i like you

(goorf, Sun 20 Jun 2010, 19:41, closed)

Me? or
The person who said there were a lot of words?
(Fireyfox is prepared to change, Sun 20 Jun 2010, 22:35, closed)

thank you for being wonderful
people like you are the reason why my mum spent her last days in comfort not squallor.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Mon 21 Jun 2010, 15:53, closed)

That's an incredibly
nice thing to say. It really does boil my piss to see vulnerable people being taken advantage of, I'd like to think the people who operate like that are few and far between.
(Fireyfox is prepared to change, Mon 21 Jun 2010, 21:50, closed)

Huh?
You mentioned bra and panties and all these replies and not one 'POIDH'

Oh wait...
( snee held his breath since, Mon 21 Jun 2010, 16:16, closed)