This is the first year since 1969 that the IRS considers me to be among the ranks of the unemployed. Unless I can land a new job, (which, for a 91 year-old offers skimpy-to-few alternatives), I’m going to have to face life as an out-of-work, down-on-her-luck loser of the Great American Dream. But maybe not.
I had my first payday when I was five. It was the summer of 1936. I had just shelled a whole bushel of peas for canning, and my Aunt Mary gave me a nickel to reward me. I was euphoric. I had a proud new status. I had done work of value and discovered the dignity it gave me of being paid for it.
I never got over it. l’ve been chasing that satisfaction ever since in every job I could get. The greatest attribute of the Great Depression I grew up in was the work ethic it imprinted on its children, and I definitely got the message!
But today, here I am. Out of work! Not only did we shut down our Ford Video company last year, but due to my tricky walking and balance issues – which I’m blaming on earwax buildup – I also had to gradually transfer most of my disabled son Matthew’s daily care to my daughter Susy.
As for the caregiving now being provided by Susy, if I were Matthew, I would definitely look on this as a step up. Kinda like transferring the services of Nurse Ratched to Florence Nightingale.
As it turns out, perhaps because of her years of wrangling the care and feeding of four-footed creatures, Susy quickly learned how to sling the hash when it comes to the care of two-footed humans too, even ones who need peritoneal dialysis, personal hygiene, and physical therapy every day, and buttered popcorn at least once a week during football season. And like any successful drug dealer, you would be amazed to observe her casino-worthy skill in dealing out all the pink, white, red, yellow, and multi-colored pills and potions to her sort-of-innocent victim. Walter White would be proud of her.
And so am I. However, Susy’s successful new nursing career is all well and good for her and Matthew, but since my caregiver role is being “terminated”, how’s this going to look on my resume? And on my LinkedIn account?
Now, pay attention here, boys and girls – you might want to take notes – just because I got demoted doesn’t mean I don’t still have a job. I Do still have a job. And a re-vamped job description.
My updated job is that of a Canary in the Coal Mine. In case you’re not quite familiar with that respected and time-honored profession, let me explain.
Beginning in 1911, coal miners started bringing a canary into the coal mine with them. Previously, the job went to mice until it was discovered that canaries had better aptitude, improved skills, a dedicated work ethic and a terrific singing voice.
The canary’s assignment was critically important. If the canary detected any kind of gas or carbon monoxide in the air, her assignment was to immediately pass out and then die. Kicked the bucket. Bought the farm. Wacked. Upon observing this tragic scene in the birdcage, the miners would quickly grab their lunch pails and evacuate before their section of the mine – as well as the canary – blew up.
As time went on though, the miners and the canaries became fast friends. In order to avoid the need for such a Total Commitment on the part of their pets, the miners cranked out a new kind of cage, so the canary could be resuscitated and evacuated along with the miners.
At long last, the birds had achieved the professional respect they deserved in the workplace. They were soon lobbying for Equal Employment Opportunities, and Social Security and Medicare benefits, but in 1986, their jobs were phased out when a newfangled carbon monoxide detector was introduced. They are now looking for new jobs. I can certainly relate to that. According to their recent Facebook updates, many are now auditioning for America’s Got Talent, and some have infiltrated the Mafia on behalf of the FBI. There’s always a good job available for an ambitious canary. Like me, for instance.
I still can’t sing, but as the resident Canary here on Kartar Ridge Ranch, I have many new responsibilities, such as keeping Matthew’s birdseed fresh and properly served, along with a bowl of pretzels and a can of beer. It’s the presentation that counts.
My main responsibility however, is the time-honored service of one of the miners’ canaries. As soon as there’s trouble lurking – for example, such as the patient’s need for the urgent elimination of bodily fluids, my job is to yell as loudly and stridently as possible — S – U- S -Y ! This is extremely effective ninety-seven percent of the time. Plus, no oxygen mask is necessary: I can be easily resuscitated with a glass of wine.
Unfortunately, my new position comes with the payroll compensation of a volunteer intern, but I can tell that Susy is already impressed with my performance and so’s my son-in-law Curt. Even Matthew is amazed by the success of his mother’s new singing and hollering career. Sadly, my howling is making the dogs jealous but they’ll just have to get over being so sensitive. I think they wanted to get my new job. I refuse to apologize to those 3 canines just for demonstrating more talent than they have for summoning – S – U – S – Y !
The immediate problem facing me is what to do about updating my LinkedIn account with my new employment status. Thank goodness, I am considered a world class expert on how to do this. To be modest though, anyone can excel at LinkedIn writing as long as they are gifted in fluent lying and selective plagiarism.
Below are copies of Susy’s and my now out-of-date LinkedIn accounts. Notice the photograph of me. It’s important that you must always submit a photo which was taken of you at least 25 years ago so your potential new employer will recognize what you might look like in the workplace if you weren’t overworked, underpaid, and sexually harassed.
The information you present in LinkedIn needs to be crisp, impressive, and, if possible, based on something that could pass for reality. The following is what I will be submitting for my own update:
“I am honored and thrilled to announce that I have been selected from among the top four candidates to serve as the distinguished Canary in the Coal Mine at the famous Kartar Ridge Ranch. The Ranch is not known for the coal it mines, but for raising some world class asses. My important role will be to yell, bark, scream, or growl very loudly when danger looms. I cannot wait to see what the next chapter holds and I cannot express my appreciation enough to my superior officers or to my teammates who will help me keep the household safe for democracy and the American Way, at least until I can find better-paying employment.
Oh boy! Now I’m going to have to scramble to find myself employment! I can’t let my 91 year old aunt outdo me. Since Canary in the Coal Mine is now filled is Pinocle Player worthy of job status? It requires organization skills (of cards), math skills (counting meld), communication skills (yelling out bids), and critical thinking skills (which card should I lead?). I’ll give it a try and see if I get any offers. Congratulations on your new reassignment, I know Susy will do an admirable job of filling your shoes. 💕
Here, here, Chris. Mom does a great job of making the rest of us look like idlers.
Mom is so not telling the truth. She is busy as a bee and multitasking all kinds of chores and by the way Matt has been having multiple doc visits and hospital test every single week since July. Guess who is the master of the calendar and makes and confirms all of the online and in person visits. Mom also attends every single medical appointment and she will always be Matt’s caregiver with his best interests at heart. Also she is a fabulous cook and I have to fight her to get in there to prepare food for the four of us!