They sent us a kid!

The title for this post is a reference to one resident's response on my first day at Bethany Towers. Today I attended a corporate event where I was required to stand up and introduce myself as the administrator of Bethany Towers. At the end of the event a woman came up to me and said, "We need you to settle something for us which was the topic of conversation at our table...how old are you?" After telling them that I was 31, another woman exclaimed, "I told you!" She had guessed 32, however most of the guesses ranged between 22-26. The woman who asked me immediately tried to console me by telling me how my youthful appearance would pay off later. The truth is I really didn't need her consoling. She wasn't saying anything that I hadn't heard on countless occasions. If I got offended anybody thought I was younger than I really was, I would lead a very sad existence. Almost as sad as if I got upset at people who didn't know how to spell Shaun. It did remind of some other funny experiences. Here are a few of my favorites.

While on my mission a lady said it was so impressive to see that I would leave my country and family at such a young age and added, "what are you? 15, 16 years old?" I was almost 21.

A few years ago while completing my final semester of my masters program I was attending a luncheon. One of the attendees asked me what my major was. When I explained that I was about to complete my masters in gerontology she stated, "oh. I thought you were a freshman." I was almost 28.

While working as the director of resident services I went to check on a new resident to make sure they had everything they needed. After introducing myself the resident's daughter said, "what are you? 18?" "I'm 29. Now was there anything that I could do to assist you?"

Last year I had multiple conversations with a plumber over the phone discussing a problem we were having. When he finally came to inspect the problem, I went over to greet him. "You're Shaun?!" He stammered for the next 2 minutes explaining how I was not at all what he expected. "When you said you were the administrator I guess I expected somebody...well you know...older."

My all time favorite was the employee at the corporate finance department. We had emailed and called each other several times over the course of the first six months of me being at Bethany Towers. One day I happened to be at corporate and stopped by to introduce myself. This particular employee saw me, turned to one of my employees who happened to be with me and said, "your boss is a kid!" Knowing my true age my employee said, "He's older than he looks." "Really, what is his secret?" he asked. "He doesn't drink, and he doesn't smoke." "Oh. Never mind. I'd rather look old."

Some day I may look my age...or at least old enough to be doing my job, but I'm ok if that day isn't any time soon. It's way more fun this way. Besides, if I started to look my age people might expect me to act it too. Well, I have to get going. I have a planning meeting with all the mid single adult representatives from church for the Southern California area. I am the new Mid Single Adult Co-chair representing singles in my stake between the ages of 31-45. This should be interesting.

UPDATE: I guess I looked old enough in my MSA meeting because they asked me to be on the steering committee for the MSA Greater Los Angeles Corridor which includes about 44 stakes. We will be planning large joint activities for all the MSA in this region.

Not so bad

When people ask me why I live in Hollywood when it can be so sketchy, I always tell them that it's not so bad. Here's a short vignette from tonight to illustrate my point.

I hear a helicopter directly overhead my apartment before leaving tonight.
My thoughts: The spotlights aren't on so it must not be so bad.

I leave and see that it's not one helicopter, but two.
My thoughts: I don't see or hear any police cars so it must not be so bad.

Rounding the corner I see no less than 12 police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance on Hollywood Blvd.
My thoughts: Well they haven't barricaded the road so it must not be so bad.

A bus moves out of my way, and I see the police barricading the block up ahead.
My thoughts: They're not blocking the pedestrian traffic so it must not be so bad.

See. Hollywood is perfectly safe. Even on the rare occasion that they do block the pedestrian traffic I take comfort in the fact that the police have everything under control...or just assume that they must be shooting a movie. Either way, I'm sure it's not so bad.

Many hats

On Sunday I was a maintenance worker when I was called in to handle a flood caused by a lady who thought the appropriate response to a clogged toilet was to flush it more.

On Monday, I was a manger as I organized a team of employees and volunteers to tackle the problem of updating our employee and resident records in response to our recent inspection by the Department of Social Services.

On Tuesday, I was a location scout as I met with a film crew that is interested in using the retirement home as a location for their next film.

On Wednesday, I was a delivery boy as I went to pick up dinner for the resident from the other retirement community which caters our meals.

On Thursday, I was an executive as I met with the president of the company to discuss the budget for the ongoing renovations.

On Friday, I was an interior designer as I poured over tile samples and tried to choose the right art deco design for the front entrance.

Tomorrow is Saturday, and I'm hoping I can just be me.

You just can't win

Twice monthly I host what we call a "Jelly Donut Meeting" with the all the residents. It's an informal townhall style meeting where we sit around sharing a box of krispy kreme donuts, and I answer any question the residents want to throw at me. "Why did you move the table that used to be under the mailboxes?" "Can I set up a yard sale outside to sell off some of my old things?" "Can we get a new cover for the ironing board?"

By far, most of the questions center on the main attraction at a retirement home, the food. For months at least 30 minutes of each meeting was spent on which meals were not up to their satisfaction. For a while we tried to fix the problem by throwing more money at it. Better quality ingredients, more choices, etc. However, this we just a temporary fix that we could not sustain on our limited budget, and it didn't seem to put an end to their complaints. So we got creative. Now our meals are being catered in from our sister community (the one where I used to work). There they have a large kitchen overseen by an executive chef along with several sous chefs. For them, adding 70 portions to their meals is small potatoes (no pun intended). By not having to carry the inventory for such a small community and with the savings in labor costs, we're actually coming out way ahead financially as well.

While cutting costs we were able to improve quality and service. Before, there was one option for each meal. If you didn't like what was on the menu you had to call hours in advance to order something off the alternate menu. Now we offer 2 hot entree choices at every meal in addition to a salad bar and soup of the day. In the near future we will be adding a few choices that can be cooked to order if for some reason you don't like either option. We were also able to expand meal service on the weekends. Before, the residents would have sack meals on Sunday evenings consisting of sandwiches a few picnic type sides. Now there is a full Sunday evening dinner like any other day. Even my most change averse residents didn't complain about that last one.

At yesterday's jelly donut meeting I braced myself when a resident asked, "Can we talk about the food?" You could tell from the tone that this was not going to be a commendation. Imagine my surprise when the biggest complaint was, "You're serving too much food. I've never eaten this much." Several residents jumped into the conversation all complaining that the food was too good and that we needed to serve smaller portions or they would all gain weight. They were being serious. This discussion lasted about 10-15 minutes. The food is too good? That's a new complaint.

I had to fight back my smile when I met with the executive chef later that day. "Chef, I had my Jelly Donut meeting and the residents had a long discussion about the food. They're really upset. The food is too good, and we need to serve less of it." He looked confused for a moment and then said, "That's it? That's the big complaint?! Then we're winning!" I think he's right...for now. I'm sure they'll have a new complaint for next time. With any luck it will be that the lobby is too pretty after the remodel.

Fantasies and Thank You Notes

I took some time off work this morning to finally catch up from a busy weekend/workweek. And by catching up I mean I slept until noon. It was quite nice. When I finally made it into work I was greeted by a resident who usually thinks that I dream too big and expect too much. Often he tells me things like, "Remember, we're not all young like you. We're old. We could fall over at any minute." When it comes to the remodel his usual response is, "What do you think this is? The Waldorf?" But for all my dreaming I think he finds my enthusiasm endearing. When I walked in he made a point of asking me how I was doing. I've noticed that I have a few residents who do this. They always emphasize the "you" in "How are YOU doing?" as if to show that they really mean it. Variations of this include, "How is the place/job treating YOU?" or "Are YOU doing well?" We talked for a bit about this and that, and then he said, "There's a lot of people complaining about the TV being moved to the library. But you know what? I never see anybody watching the TV or going to the movies they play. Maybe 2 people come. Maybe 4 or 5 if it's really good. So let them complain. That's what they do here. They like to complain. So don't listen to them. Live out your fantasies here." I do love my job, but honestly I can't think of any of my wildest fantasies that involved remodeling a retirement community. But it's nice to know I have some support. I went down to my office and to my surprise somebody had tucked a note under the door. It read, "Shaun, I want to compliment you on all the new improvements ongoing here at Bethany Towers." He went on to say other nice things about the food and the lobby that made my day. The last few days have been full of moments like these. On Monday one of my employees, a woman in her 60s from Mexico, came in to talk to me about a problem. At the end of the conversation she thanked me for listening, asked for a hug, and gave me a kiss on my cheek. Yesterday, the business office coordinator came over to see what the commotion was about because I had let out a yell of excitement over finally receiving an application to become a Medi-Cal Assisted Living Waiver Provider (Hmm...maybe that guy's appraisal of my fantasies wasn't too far off after all). I ended up having to explain my excitement. "We're making progress!!" I said. She turned to leave me to my Medi-Cal paperwork and said, "Shaun, you're doing a great job here. You've really done a lot." It's nice to know that for all the critics there are also a few fans...and somewhere in between is probably the truth.

Leaves down my shirt

When I was in kindergarten a group of bullies took some dead leaves, crushed them up, and threw them down the back of my shirt. Although I tried my best to shake them out, small pieces clung to the inside of my shirt for the rest of the day. The itchy fragments left me with a constant reminder of the bullying I had been forced to endure. Although I put on a brave face not wanting to let the bullies know how they had affected me, by the time I arrived home I was on the brink of tears. All it took was my mom asking how my day went, and I finally lost my composure. Sobbing I stammered, "They...threw...leaves...down...my...shirt." She hugged me and helped me pick out a new shirt so that I could finally move on from the discomfort and sadness of both the actual bullying and its aftermath.

There are times in our life when people figuratively throw leaves down our shirts. Their hurtful actions or words stick to us and scrape at our backs. Try as we might, it seems like we will never get rid of all the fragments of our hurt or disappointment. This week I had one of those experiences.

Friday started off rather well. The remodel going on at my retirement home progressed nicely in the day that I had been away at corporate meetings. The new walls were up and primed, the brand new heating and cooling units were installed and working correctly, and the plaster on the new ceiling was finally completed. Content at the progress we were making, I went to my office and found an email from the president of my company congratulating me on our recent financial statements. We didn't lose nearly as much money as we have in months past, and with the changes we implemented this month we anticipate that for the first time in 2 years we will finally break even in about 2-3 months. I felt good knowing that despite making many cutbacks we were also making improvements. In addition to the remodeling going on in the commons areas we also added a new salad bar and buffet which gave the residents much more variety and choice during meal times.

It was during this moment of self-congratulation that an employee asked me if I had seen the note that Ed had left on the bulletin board. Knowing Ed, and knowing this couldn't be good I rushed over to find a 2 page unsigned letter. Most paragraphs started with bold capital letters "TWO THUMBS DOWN" and somewhere in the middle my name (spelled incorrectly, SHAWN) would also appear in capitals talking about how unresponsive I was as a manager. The letter included comparisons to both Scrooge and Nazi Germany. I quickly found that it wasn't on just one bulletin board, but on all the bulletin boards, and stacks had been left at the front desk for dispersal to all the residents.

My major offenses included not consulting the residents with respect to the layoffs in the dining room, removing 2 faux fireplaces and replacing them with 2 two-ton heating and cooling units, moving the television to a smaller room, and not providing enough heat to the building. Lost on this resident were the facts that the layoffs were there to save his home from financial destruction, that for the first time we had both heating AND cooling in these common areas, and that it was probably our more liberal use of the heat than had previously been the custom there that had led to the boiler breaking down that one day. It was promptly fixed the next day. He also didn't mention that the restructuring of the dining services actually added a Sunday evening dinner which had been absent from the schedule for decades. No more will they have to eat the same sack meals of ham and cheese sandwiches every week. Why couldn't he see the good I was doing? If he did have complaints, why didn't he bring them up in the twice monthly town hall style meetings that I hold?

Friday night after hanging out with friends, I couldn't sleep. Instead, I went back into work at 11pm. As I walked the quiet halls of the community, I tried to push my own pride aside. I thought of the residents and their perspective. Since officially becoming the administrator in December, I have completely disrupted their lives. They didn't ask for the remodel. This was their home and I ripped it apart. I changed their routines, took away their favorite places to sit, changed how their meals are prepared, and even got rid of their friends in the way of employee layoffs. Since I arrived I have done nothing but throw leaves down their shirts. Why should I be surprised that somebody threw some back?

I know the changes were necessary. If I ran it the way they wanted, everything would stay the same and we would not stay in business for long. It didn't take away my hurt or change my mind about what needs to be done, but it did help take away some of the leaf fragments from my shirt. I won't lie. Some are still there. The thought of going to work tomorrow feels like putting on the itchy shirt again, but it's probably good that I remember that my residents' backs are itchy too. I need to do all I can to help minimize their discomfort too. Somehow we'll get through this together. Besides, this is all probably because I didn't give Ed that jukebox he asked for.

Stuck in the middle

When I started my new job I wondered how I would fill my time all day. It's not like I've ever been an administrator before. The problem with being the highest ranking employee at the facility is there's nobody around to ask what you should be doing. On the other hand, the great thing about being the highest ranking employee is that nobody is around to tell you what you should be doing. Well...at least that's how I thought it would be.

In reality the exact opposite is true. EVERYBODY tells me what I should be doing. John thinks I should be fixing the schedules for the kitchen so that he gets the days off that he wants. Mary thinks my time would be better spent improving the menu while Susan continues to ask me about installing a new boiler. Julie has a full list of things that I should be doing for her mother at no additional cost of course. And my favorite, Ed thinks my highest priority should be purchasing a jukebox for the lobby. That doesn't even factor in the emails & phone calls that I receive from both my boss and corporate with their renditions of what I should be doing.

I'm quickly learning that being at the top is really being in the middle with nowhere to go. I used to be able to say "You'll have to talk to my boss about that." Now my best defense is, "Let me think about it." With so many people trying to tell me what I should be doing I'm reminded of the meeting where it was announced that I would be the new administrator. After the cheers died down a resident approached me, congratulated me, and added, "Right now your approval rating is 100%. It can only go down from here."

With that level of support, it's easy to get discouraged. Menus, schedules, and even jukeboxes were not why I got into gerontology. Is this really the best fit? Is there another job working with seniors where they won't call me on the weekends when a pipe bursts? Probably. But then I have those moments like the one I had yesterday as I was leaving work. For 3 days I had taken the financial statements home with me with the best of intentions of working on them in the evening. I was busy convincing myself that this would finally be the evening that I actually did something about them when a resident stopped me. As I braced myself for a complaint, a problem, or at the very least a suggestion he said, "You're a beautiful person, you know that? Everybody is happier since you came."

It didn't matter if everybody believed it. The fact that he believed it was enough for me that night. For the first time I actually pulled the financial statements out when I got home. While I was at it I made some steps towards a plan that I hope will both improve the menu and fix the scheduling problems in the kitchen. I did not, however, find any extra money for the jukebox. Sorry, Ed. Maybe next time. I'll see if Julie is willing to pay for some of those extra services, but I'm making no promises. After all, I still have to purchase a boiler too.