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Kinda bored, thought I might share a tale. So I've been working around food and drink since I was 14. 20 odd years. I've worked in pubs, a roadhouse, a couple corporate restaurants, casual fine, a brew pub, a brewery (lots more stories there...). Pretty much all over the map.
Kinda bored, thought I might share a tale. So I've been working around food and drink since I was 14. 20 odd years. I've worked in pubs, a roadhouse, a couple corporate restaurants, casual fine, a brew pub, a brewery (lots more stories there...). Pretty much all over the map.
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My first job (aside from the paper route I got when I was 6), however, was in a retirement home. For 5 years, starting a few days after I turned 14, I cleaned, served tables, did some prep, delivered trays and washed dishes a few days a week at a fairly upscale place.
My first job (aside from the paper route I got when I was 6), however, was in a retirement home. For 5 years, starting a few days after I turned 14, I cleaned, served tables, did some prep, delivered trays and washed dishes a few days a week at a fairly upscale place.
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Our residents were generally in (relatively) good health, mostly women with a few couples and the odd widower sprinkled in for flavour. People came down for meals, activities and events, were free to come and go as long as they signed out. It was a fairly active community.
Our residents were generally in (relatively) good health, mostly women with a few couples and the odd widower sprinkled in for flavour. People came down for meals, activities and events, were free to come and go as long as they signed out. It was a fairly active community.
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Everyone came down for dinner if they were able to do so, and we actively encouraged people to do so unless they were ill or bed ridden. Nothing keeps people going like community. There were a few exceptions. New residents were allowed to take some time to acclimate, etc.
Everyone came down for dinner if they were able to do so, and we actively encouraged people to do so unless they were ill or bed ridden. Nothing keeps people going like community. There were a few exceptions. New residents were allowed to take some time to acclimate, etc.
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And then there was Mrs. Fox (name changed because, well, of course).
Mrs. Fox had been in the Community for over 25 years. When this story takes place, she was 101 years old.
And she was a lovely woman. Stone deaf without her hearing aids, which she hated wearing, and quite
And then there was Mrs. Fox (name changed because, well, of course).
Mrs. Fox had been in the Community for over 25 years. When this story takes place, she was 101 years old.
And she was a lovely woman. Stone deaf without her hearing aids, which she hated wearing, and quite
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Visually impaired. But just a wonderful woman. Sharp, welcoming, friendly. Just a joy to serve. Her family visited often, she had grandkids and great grandkids who lived nearby. But she almost never left her room. Partially this was due to her hearing issues.
Visually impaired. But just a wonderful woman. Sharp, welcoming, friendly. Just a joy to serve. Her family visited often, she had grandkids and great grandkids who lived nearby. But she almost never left her room. Partially this was due to her hearing issues.
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But she also used to point out that, after 25 years in the building (we averaged about 50 residents at a time), she had made several generations of friends and didn't really want to bother. And who could really blame her? She was 101. She could do what she wanted.
But she also used to point out that, after 25 years in the building (we averaged about 50 residents at a time), she had made several generations of friends and didn't really want to bother. And who could really blame her? She was 101. She could do what she wanted.
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She occasionally came down for crafts. I still have a little ceramic dog she painted for me. But otherwise she pretty much stayed in her room.
So Mrs. Fox got a tray for all of her meals. It was always the last tray of the load because of where her room was.
She occasionally came down for crafts. I still have a little ceramic dog she painted for me. But otherwise she pretty much stayed in her room.
So Mrs. Fox got a tray for all of her meals. It was always the last tray of the load because of where her room was.
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At dinner, invariably, you would walk into her room and she would be sitting in her armchair, about 4 feet from the television, watching CBC News. She wouldn't have her hearing aids in, so she would have the volume about as loud as it could be. Not even sound, just noise.
At dinner, invariably, you would walk into her room and she would be sitting in her armchair, about 4 feet from the television, watching CBC News. She wouldn't have her hearing aids in, so she would have the volume about as loud as it could be. Not even sound, just noise.
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You learned to block it out. You kind of had to shout over it, but she would turn it down if she actually wanted to listen to you. Like I said, 101 year old bad ass. You'd make her tea, maybe cut her meat for her or anything else she might need, and then head back for dinner
You learned to block it out. You kind of had to shout over it, but she would turn it down if she actually wanted to listen to you. Like I said, 101 year old bad ass. You'd make her tea, maybe cut her meat for her or anything else she might need, and then head back for dinner
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Service in the dining room, your ears ringing from the TV.
Now, one night in 1999, I was doing my rounds, taking Mrs. Fox her dinner as my last stop. As usual walking into her room was walking into a wall of sound, just an assault upon the eardrums.
Service in the dining room, your ears ringing from the TV.
Now, one night in 1999, I was doing my rounds, taking Mrs. Fox her dinner as my last stop. As usual walking into her room was walking into a wall of sound, just an assault upon the eardrums.
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She was in her armchair, craning her neck towards the tv, her little old head kind of nodding at whatever she was watching. I was focussed on not going deaf and getting her tray on the folding stand on front of her without getting in the way too much.
She was in her armchair, craning her neck towards the tv, her little old head kind of nodding at whatever she was watching. I was focussed on not going deaf and getting her tray on the folding stand on front of her without getting in the way too much.
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As I am doing this, all the while asking her questions and getting ignored, she is kind of leaning to the side. I now notice her head is definitely kind of bobbing up and down pretty emphatically. I'll admit, I kind of got concerned for a second. I mean, 101, who wouldn't?
As I am doing this, all the while asking her questions and getting ignored, she is kind of leaning to the side. I now notice her head is definitely kind of bobbing up and down pretty emphatically. I'll admit, I kind of got concerned for a second. I mean, 101, who wouldn't?
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And then I realised she was bobbing her head on purpose. And leaning to the side to see around me. My brain finally recognized the sounds I was hearing.
I turned around.
And then I realised she was bobbing her head on purpose. And leaning to the side to see around me. My brain finally recognized the sounds I was hearing.
I turned around.
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Mrs. Fox had discovered MuchMusic (the Canadian equivalent of MTV, which used to show music videos). And, I kid you not my friends, she was chilling out at 101 freaking years old, bobbing her head to Limp Bizkit's Nookie video.
Mrs. Fox had discovered MuchMusic (the Canadian equivalent of MTV, which used to show music videos). And, I kid you not my friends, she was chilling out at 101 freaking years old, bobbing her head to Limp Bizkit's Nookie video.
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So, yeah. That's a thing that happened. A little old 101 year old woman rocked out to Fred Durst. And before you judge her taste, she was 101 and it was 1999. We were all making poor life choices, and she had more than earned hers.
So, yeah. That's a thing that happened. A little old 101 year old woman rocked out to Fred Durst. And before you judge her taste, she was 101 and it was 1999. We were all making poor life choices, and she had more than earned hers.
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So next time you're feeling old and tired and cooped up and frustrated and everything else, think about a woman literally born in 1898 enjoying terrible rap-core in 1999 (and living into a third century) in a room she had brightened for 25 years.
That's the story.
Cheers.
So next time you're feeling old and tired and cooped up and frustrated and everything else, think about a woman literally born in 1898 enjoying terrible rap-core in 1999 (and living into a third century) in a room she had brightened for 25 years.
That's the story.
Cheers.
