How I despise you and your home

Time for another update on my pathetic little life.

In this post Burlington House and the boss from hell.

At some point in the summer mum and I were in Pound stretcher in Paignton when mum spotted Amanda (I know I don't normally use names but it's either that or "The bitch"), her ex boss. Mum asked Amanda, who was holding a boxed iron, weather she had any vacancies for me. Amanda and I chatted for a while about my experience in support roles and said she'd be in touch.

I started working at Burlington in September of 2007.

My first week was boring as I sat in the quiet lounge reading care plans for thirteen residents none of whom I'd ever seen let alone met.

My second week and the progressive weeks that followed I was shown how to do the day to day things like bathing, supporting, monies and toileting-yes, changing pads and watching clients use the toilet. I didn't sign up for care work, I was informed that the job was support worker and I know for a fact support workers do not toilet residents, that's the job of a carer.

The weeks and months that followed bored me, made me feel worthless, un-needed and low. Deep depression reared it's ugly head and once again I was plummeted back into the lows of life.

I had no passion, no will or want for this job. I would go as far as to say I hated it and just like Orhcard view dreaded going in each day but did anyway like a robotic, depressed moron.

It was like the long road to the death chamber on the green mile movie.

After a week's annual leave at the end of February I did my final shift. It was a Monday afternoon and I forced myself against all my will to go in. I told myself all the way there on the bus that I just need to keep faking it until something better comes along but there was no faking it anymore. As hard as I tried I just couldn't fake that I was happy there, it was crystal clear to all that I was depressed and on the edge of no return. I spent most of my shift either talking to another member of staff or outside trying to compose myself-trying to stop myself blowing up and walking out.

I texted Amanda that night and told her I wasn't coming back. We spoke the next afternoon and try as she did there was no convincing me to work there anymore. She went on and on about how I'd let her down and that it was in the terms and conditions of my job that I'm obliged to give a weeks notice to which I told her I wouldn't be prepared to do.

I didn't sign a contract to her or the company so what could she do?

Over the following days a huge weight lifted from my shoulders and the dark cloud started to lighten though it still lingered like a bad smell.

Fallen-Angel