[Critique Group 1] cleora's submission 2300 words

[sitting.duck at springmail.com]

also attached in case the paste version is messed up.

2300 words
The Caregiver
by Sly Duck
2:45pm, I am officially late for my appointment, and my caregiver is driving in circles. “You need to get on Bryan-Irvin,” I say, “Straight up Bryan-Irvin to Camp Bowie. Left onto Camp Bowie; Then a block or so to 6324.” My driver starts to call off street names. It still feels like she is driving in circles. Finally, she tells me she is on Bryan-Irvin. She continues to call off street names. It sounds like we are headed in the right direction.
We were doing fine until my cell phone stopped giving directions. I picked up the device and started swiping. Bonk, bonk, no internet connection, says my phone. What? Did I hear that right? Swiped some more. I realize I’ve lost the internet. That’s why GPS stopped giving directions. I stuck the thing back in my purse. “I've lost the internet,” I said, “That's why it stopped giving us directions.”
I despaired. When we started out, she told me she didn't know where we were going and she was depending on me to give directions. “I don't know the way, you'll need to use your GPS," I said.
“I don't have my phone,” she said. “I'll have to go back for it. Oh, you have your phone. Do you know how to use GPS??”
I pulled out my phone and asked for directions to the clinic. SIRI started talking and we started out. Now we were stuck, I knew basically how to get there but my driver was now telling me that there was construction and the road had ended, and she didn't know what to do.
I realize she has pulled off the road and come to a stop. “Maybe I have my phone. I'll check.” she said and got out to check her purse in the back seat. Shortly, she gets back in the driver seat and asks for the address. I give it again, and we start out with her phone giving directions.
I can tell from the directions that we haven't been on Bryan-Irvin all this time. That is why we are not finding Camp Bowie. In fact, we are 13 minutes from our destination. We are almost as far away as we were when we started. I think we must have been driving in the opposite direction. Just think, I'm paying good money for this nitwit. The destination is 16 minutes from my home. We have been driving 45 minutes, now, and we are still 13 minutes away. I check the time, 2:57pm. Terrific.
I remember how she dropped her debit card in my hall the first time she came. I thought it was the temporary card that came with the dental insurance application, and almost threw it away, but decided to use my Seeing AI app to scan it anyway. I never throw away anything I don't at least believe I know what is. It was her debit card. I didn't believe for a nano-second she had dropped it by accident. So, what to do. Do I call the agency office and tell them I found it, or wait and see if she asks about it.
Later, I called to see if my regular caregiver would be back Thursday. They didn't know. I went ahead and told them about finding Donna's card. “Oh, she is probably searching all over for it,” said Ashley, “I'll call and let her know.”
Ha! I thought. Not unless she went to the store after leaving me. I think she dropped it deliberately, but why? The evidence was mounting. First, she drops her card to see if I will find it and be able to identify it. I wish now I had pitched it in the trash, or at least not told the office I found it. Today she told me she knew I had to be able to see because she used to know a blind person and she used braille for everything, and I could only do the things I do if I had vision. I think she was alluding to my being able to identify her card. I didn't bother to tell her how I did it. Then when we start out, she told me she didn't have her phone with her. Would have to go back and look for it, but now it turns out she had it all along.
She told me when she arrived there was a powder blue car with two people in it that stopped nearby and waited a long time before leaving when she arrived. Were these her friends? I can't shake the memory of when she arrived Tuesday, and I went to disarm the alarm system, it was already disarmed. Had she used something to capture my disarm signal so they could disarm it? Is she using the recent break in attempt to break in and make it look like someone else, did it? Is this scenic route to the chiropractor to give her cohorts plenty of time to get in and take whatever they want? Does she have an app that let her send a picture of what I have to her partners so they know what to pick up and where it is? Was the card drop a way to be sure she would be sent back?
She is giving me minute by minute reports of how long to our destination. I can tell from what GPS is saying that we are now headed in the right direction, but it is having us make a lot of turns that we shouldn't have to make if we are really on Bryan-Irvin. At least we are supposedly headed in the right direction. "Nine minutes, she reports, we will be there soon. I've driven in bigger towns. I've been in Fort Worth 6 years. I used to be an insurance adjuster, and I had to deliver and go all over the place,” she reports.
Am I supposed to be encouraged by These revelations?
We arrive at 3:07pm. I tell her the elevator is on the right side of the building. She parks in a handicap spot. I know from my many visits the handicap parking is not near the elevator. She helps me out. I grasp her elbow, and we start walking. We are not going toward the right side. She takes me up a ramp. The ramp is on the left side near the stairs. I do not want to go up the stairs. This idiot. She is helping a blind person that uses a walking cane and she parks on the other end of the building and is taking me toward the stairs. I know there is a parking place right by the elevator. She parked in a handicapped spot, but I think that is more for people with a wheelchair. My hip is beginning to ache. I am about to tell her the elevator is on the other side when a man calls out. “The elevator is here. I think it's working. Yes, no out of order sign. I strained my back yesterday. I can't imagine trying to use stairs. Thought you might want to use the elevator.”
Wonderful man. He has a brain. Sees us walking. Realizes that going up the stairs would be difficult for me, and tries to help.
My guide thanks him and we start toward the elevator. I breathe a silent sigh of ReLeaf.
We get in the elevator. “What floor?” she asks.
“Second floor.” I tell her. I can't see the buttons, but this is a 2-story building. I'm thinking there aren’t that many to choose from.
“Oh, here it is,” she says, and I guess presses the button for the top floor.
We get out of the elevator, and she walks me back and forth on the landing. “Family or chiropractic?” she asks.
I know from my many visits the clinic has the entire top floor. “It is Family Chiropractic.”
“Oh,” she says.
We have been walking longer than I think we need to. Finally, she tries a door. It doesn't open. “It's locked,” she declares. We start to walk again. I stumble over a rug of some kind. We come to another door. It won’t open either. We turn around and start back. She tries what I assume is the first door we tried. "Why do they have their doors locked?” she asks. Now it feels like we are walking to the elevator. Is she going to leave?
“Come in this way,” a man behind us says.
We turn around. Then I remember, the rug I stumbled over was the rug in the door we were supposed to go in at.
We get in, and I start to hunt for the couch I know is near the door. I tell her she may need to complete a covid questionnaire for both of us, knowing she is not going to pay any attention to me.
I am surprise not to hear Nancy mumble something about us being 30 minutes late for my appointment. The man that called out to us, I'm sure, was doctor. Mechlin. I'm so glad they noticed us. She would probably have kept walking me back and forth then taken me down and back home causing me to miss my appointment and wasting 2 hours of the shift.
Nancy sounds very patient and kind. She gives her a paper and tells her to put both our names on it and answer the questions for both of us. I wait. I know I will need to sign and initial my part.
Nancy has to tell her everything to do. I am amazed. Nancy is not usually this amiable. Obviously, she recognizes I have an idiot for a helper. Donna brings me the paper to sign. She doesn't have it on a clipboard like the other caregivers have had. I try to sign on a paper sagging between my legs. I know I'm supposed to initial each question and sign at the bottom, but I don't make any comment.
“Thank you,” says Nancy. “Come on back.”
Wow, again I'm surprised. I thought I would probably have to wait several minutes since we were so late.
The appointment goes smoothly. The doctor takes charge of getting me back to the front where I can pay out.
Back in the car, I'm wondering how long it will take her to get us back home.
Actually, it only takes 22 minutes. She parks in the garage and shuts off the engine. I decide to go ahead and close the garage door. It hits my bumper and goes back up. She starts the car and pulls up. I try to close the door; it hits the bumper and goes back up. She has to restart the car 3 times and pull it up before I can close the door.
At least this time she parked it more in the place it is supposed to be for me to move around better in the garage, and she didn't almost hit the freezer.
I check my phone. I haven't gotten a notice of a call, so it doesn't seem anyone has set off the alarm while we were away. I listen as I push the disarm button. The system dings, and says “Disarmed, ready to arm.” Ok, it was still armed.no one has broken in.
I go in and check all the doors. Everything is secure. Apparently, she is just an incompetent, idiot, not part of a burglary ring.
“Are you looking forward to having Tori back next time?” she asks
“Yes.”
“You don't like me? I like you.”
“I like you, but I've spent a lot of time on Tori. I would rather have her. I want them to stop sending me new people all the time.” Could it be that this woman has no clue that her giving me inaccurate answers, almost hitting my freezer last time, dropping her debit card in my hall, and taking an hour and driving an additional 14 miles today to get me to an appointment 30 minutes late is not instilling me with confidence? I can't trust what she tells me. She told me my new debit card didn't have any numbers on it. A three-year-old knows that a credit or debit card has a number on it. Her own debit card has a number on it. I'm supposed to believe that my debit card doesn't have a number? I wonder if she made a note of the information and is waiting for me to activate it so she can try to use it to make purchases. She did give me the number to call to activate the card. What about the things I don't know for sure? The things that if she doesn't give me the right information can cause problems, I have to use my adaptive technology to check out everything she tells me to be sure it is right. What about the things my adaptive equipment can't double check? What about the things I don't want a non-vetted volunteer on “Be My Eyes” to see?
“No,” I said, “I like you but I need them to stop sending me new people. I need to get someone trained that can do the job and have them be my regular so I can get things done.”
At first, from my experiences with her over the last two weeks, I thought she was messing with me. But if what she tells me about her work history is true, maybe at age 62, she has lost the cognitive sharpness that should have made her a good fit. Like the investment advisors say, past performance is no guarantee of future results. Or, in this case, past experience is no guarantee of future performance.

-------------- next part --------------
2300 words
The Caregiver
by Sly Duck

2:45pm, I am officially late for my appointment, and my caregiver is driving in circles. “You need to get on Bryan-Irvin,” I say, “Straight up Bryan-Irvin to Camp Bowie. Left onto Camp Bowie; Then a block or so to 6324.” My driver starts to call off street names. It still feels like she is driving in circles. Finally, she tells me she is on Bryan-Irvin. She continues to call off street names. It sounds like we are headed in the right direction.

We were doing fine until my cell phone stopped giving directions. I picked up the device and started swiping. Bonk, bonk, no internet connection, says my phone. What? Did I hear that right? Swiped some more. I realize I’ve lost the internet. That’s why GPS stopped giving directions. I stuck the thing back in my purse. “I've lost the internet,” I said, “That's why it stopped giving us directions.”

I despaired. When we started out, she told me she didn't know where we were going and she was depending on me to give directions. “I don't know the way, you'll need to use your GPS," I said.

“I don't have my phone,” she said. “I'll have to go back for it. Oh, you have your phone. Do you know how to use GPS??”

I pulled out my phone and asked for directions to the clinic. SIRI started talking and we started out. Now we were stuck, I knew basically how to get there but my driver was now telling me that there was construction and the road had ended, and she didn't know what to do.

I realize she has pulled off the road and come to a stop. “Maybe I have my phone. I'll check.” she said and got out to check her purse in the back seat. Shortly, she gets back in the driver seat and asks for the address. I give it again, and we start out with her phone giving directions.

I can tell from the directions that we haven't been on Bryan-Irvin all this time. That is why we are not finding Camp Bowie. In fact, we are 13 minutes from our destination. We are almost as far away as we were when we started. I think we must have been driving in the opposite direction. Just think, I'm paying good money for this nitwit. The destination is 16 minutes from my home. We have been driving 45 minutes, now, and we are still 13 minutes away. I check the time, 2:57pm. Terrific.

I remember how she dropped her debit card in my hall the first time she came. I thought it was the temporary card that came with the dental insurance application, and almost threw it away, but decided to use my Seeing AI app to scan it anyway. I never throw away anything I don't at least believe I know what is. It was her debit card. I didn't believe for a nano-second she had dropped it by accident. So, what to do. Do I call the agency office and tell them I found it, or wait and see if she asks about it.

Later, I called to see if my regular caregiver would be back Thursday. They didn't know. I went ahead and told them about finding Donna's card. “Oh, she is probably searching all over for it,” said Ashley, “I'll call and let her know.”

Ha! I thought. Not unless she went to the store after leaving me. I think she dropped it deliberately, but why? The evidence was mounting. First, she drops her card to see if I will find it and be able to identify it. I wish now I had pitched it in the trash, or at least not told the office I found it. Today she told me she knew I had to be able to see because she used to know a blind person and she used braille for everything, and I could only do the things I do if I had vision. I think she was alluding to my being able to identify her card. I didn't bother to tell her how I did it. Then when we start out, she told me she didn't have her phone with her. Would have to go back and look for it, but now it turns out she had it all along. 

She told me when she arrived there was a powder blue car with two people in it that stopped nearby and waited a long time before leaving when she arrived. Were these her friends? I can't shake the memory of when she arrived Tuesday, and I went to disarm the alarm system, it was already disarmed. Had she used something to capture my disarm signal so they could disarm it? Is she using the recent break in attempt to break in and make it look like someone else, did it? Is this scenic route to the chiropractor to give her cohorts plenty of time to get in and take whatever they want? Does she have an app that let her send a picture of what I have to her partners so they know what to pick up and where it is? Was the card drop a way to be sure she would be sent back? 

She is giving me minute by minute reports of how long to our destination. I can tell from what GPS is saying that we are now headed in the right direction, but it is having us make a lot of turns that we shouldn't have to make if we are really on Bryan-Irvin. At least we are supposedly headed in the right direction. "Nine minutes, she reports, we will be there soon. I've driven in bigger towns. I've been in Fort Worth 6 years. I used to be an insurance adjuster, and I had to deliver and go all over the place,” she reports.

Am I supposed to be encouraged by These revelations?

We arrive at 3:07pm. I tell her the elevator is on the right side of the building. She parks in a handicap spot. I know from my many visits the handicap parking is not near the elevator. She helps me out. I grasp her elbow, and we start walking. We are not going toward the right side. She takes me up a ramp. The ramp is on the left side near the stairs. I do not want to go up the stairs. This idiot. She is helping a blind person that uses a walking cane and she parks on the other end of the building and is taking me toward the stairs. I know there is a parking place right by the elevator. She parked in a handicapped spot, but I think that is more for people with a wheelchair. My hip is beginning to ache. I am about to tell her the elevator is on the other side when a man calls out. “The elevator is here. I think it's working. Yes, no out of order sign. I strained my back yesterday. I can't imagine trying to use stairs. Thought you might want to use the elevator.”

Wonderful man. He has a brain. Sees us walking. Realizes that going up the stairs would be difficult for me, and tries to help.

My guide thanks him and we start toward the elevator. I breathe a silent sigh of ReLeaf.

We get in the elevator. “What floor?” she asks.

“Second floor.” I tell her. I can't see the buttons, but this is a 2-story building. I'm thinking there aren’t that many to choose from.

“Oh, here it is,” she says, and I guess presses the button for the top floor.

We get out of the elevator, and she walks me back and forth on the landing. “Family or chiropractic?” she asks.

I know from my many visits the clinic has the entire top floor. “It is Family Chiropractic.”

“Oh,” she says.

We have been walking longer than I think we need to. Finally, she tries a door. It doesn't open. “It's locked,” she declares. We start to walk again. I stumble over a rug of some kind. We come to another door. It won’t open either. We turn around and start back. She tries what I assume is the first door we tried. "Why do they have their doors locked?” she asks. Now it feels like we are walking to the elevator. Is she going to leave?

“Come in this way,” a man behind us says.

We turn around. Then I remember, the rug I stumbled over was the rug in the door we were supposed to go in at.

We get in, and I start to hunt for the couch I know is near the door. I tell her she may need to complete a covid questionnaire for both of us, knowing she is not going to pay any attention to me. 

I am surprise not to hear Nancy mumble something about us being 30 minutes late for my appointment. The man that called out to us, I'm sure, was doctor. Mechlin. I'm so glad they noticed us. She would probably have kept walking me back and forth then taken me down and back home causing me to miss my appointment and wasting 2 hours of the shift. 

Nancy sounds very patient and kind. She gives her a paper and tells her to put both our names on it and answer the questions for both of us. I wait. I know I will need to sign and initial my part. 

Nancy has to tell her everything to do. I am amazed. Nancy is not usually this amiable. Obviously, she recognizes I have an idiot for a helper. Donna brings me the paper to sign. She doesn't have it on a clipboard like the other caregivers have had. I try to sign on a paper sagging between my legs. I know I'm supposed to initial each question and sign at the bottom, but I don't make any comment.

“Thank you,” says Nancy. “Come on back.”

Wow, again I'm surprised. I thought I would probably have to wait several minutes since we were so late.

The appointment goes smoothly. The doctor takes charge of getting me back to the front where I can pay out.

Back in the car, I'm wondering how long it will take her to get us back home.

Actually, it only takes 22 minutes. She parks in the garage and shuts off the engine. I decide to go ahead and close the garage door. It hits my bumper and goes back up. She starts the car and pulls up. I try to close the door; it hits the bumper and goes back up. She has to restart the car 3 times and pull it up before I can close the door.

At least this time she parked it more in the place it is supposed to be for me to move around better in the garage, and she didn't almost hit the freezer.

I check my phone. I haven't gotten a notice of a call, so it doesn't seem anyone has set off the alarm while we were away. I listen as I push the disarm button. The system dings, and says “Disarmed, ready to arm.” Ok, it was still armed.no one has broken in.

I go in and check all the doors. Everything is secure. Apparently, she is just an incompetent, idiot, not part of a burglary ring. 

“Are you looking forward to having Tori back next time?” she asks

“Yes.”

“You don't like me? I like you.”

“I like you, but I've spent a lot of time on Tori. I would rather have her. I want them to stop sending me new people all the time.” Could it be that this woman has no clue that her giving me inaccurate answers, almost hitting my freezer last time, dropping her debit card in my hall, and taking an hour and driving an additional 14 miles today to get me to an appointment 30 minutes late is not instilling me with confidence? I can't trust what she tells me. She told me my new debit card didn't have any numbers on it. A three-year-old knows that a credit or debit card has a number on it. Her own debit card has a number on it. I'm supposed to believe that my debit card doesn't have a number? I wonder if she made a note of the information and is waiting for me to activate it so she can try to use it to make purchases. She did give me the number to call to activate the card. What about the things I don't know for sure? The things that if she doesn't give me the right information can cause problems, I have to use my adaptive technology to check out everything she tells me to be sure it is right. What about the things my adaptive equipment can't double check? What about the things I don't want a non-vetted volunteer on “Be My Eyes” to see?

“No,” I said, “I like you but I need them to stop sending me new people. I need to get someone trained that can do the job and have them be my regular so I can get things done.”

At first, from my experiences with her over the last two weeks, I thought she was messing with me. But if what she tells me about her work history is true, maybe at age 62, she has lost the cognitive sharpness that should have made her a good fit. Like the investment advisors say, past performance is no guarantee of future results. Or, in this case, past experience is no guarantee of future performance.