(I work in a care home for people with dementia. The female resident in this story has difficulty swallowing certain foods, and was put on a soft diet. This was decided by her doctor and a special team. One day during breakfast, her son walks in.)

Son: “Hey! Could you get my mum some toast?”
Me: “Sorry sir, but your mum’s been put on a soft diet -”
Son: “Rubbish. Give my mum some toast.”
Me: “I’m not allowed. She could choke on that.”
Son: “I still want my mum to have some toast.”
Me: “You want your mum to have toast even though she could choke on it?”
Son: “Yes.”

I was amazed by the fact he was so adamant about his mum eating something she could choke on. After talking to one of the senior staff, I brought her some bread and butter with the crusts cut off. I put it down in front of the lady and the son glared at me, but didn’t say anything.

I work in an assisted living facility. Due to the health crisis, we’ve had to stop visits to the elderly. After some work, we created a space where people could see their families through a glass, similar to those in ticket booths. In order to visit the elderly through there, families need to make an appointment.

Today, I got a call from a man wanting to visit his mum on the weekend. I told him everything was booked. He said, in a very aggravated tone, that he hadn’t seen his mum in two months. I said I understood, and he immediately cut me off, saying I didn’t understand a thing, that it was a simple request, and that I should be able to do something so basic.

After a bit of back and forth, I told him he could either book for the weekend after or see his mum through one of the gates this weekend. He said he was no dog to be left out on the street.

I couldn’t help but think, “If you wanted to see your mum so bad, wouldn’t you take what you could get?”

After being called incompetent for the seventh time, I couldn’t take it anymore and told him, “Well, sir, since you insist on coming this weekend but refuse to see your mother through the gates, unless you drop from a parachute onto the roof in order to see her, I can’t help you.”

He said, in a very high and mighty tone, that he was going to call my boss and tell him my answers. I called my boss to warn him about the headache heading his way and he laughed at the parachute comment.

It turns out that the guy is known for being impossible to talk to.

What do you call a male Karen? A Gareth? A Kevin? Either way, I had one of those. And I’m not looking forward to completing the set.

It’s my first day working as a care assistant in a home for adults with learning difficulties. Every resident is treated as a member of the family. A more experienced colleague is showing me around.

Colleague: “This is John. He needs a lot of personal care, but he’s a great guy. He’s quite happy and easy to take care of.”

Later, we are putting him to bed and my colleague is demonstrating to me how to clean his teeth. John won’t open his mouth for the toothbrush.

Colleague: “He really doesn’t like the taste of toothpaste. We have to be patient.”

Two minutes later, he still hasn’t opened his mouth.

Colleague: “Would you switch on John’s shaver? It’s on the shelf there.”

Me: “Huh? We haven’t finished cleaning his teeth yet.”

Colleague: “Just switch it on and watch carefully.”

Confused, I switch it on. Then, I look at John to watch the reaction. He grins and opens his mouth wide. My colleague puts the toothbrush in and cleans his teeth without issue.

Colleague: “You see, he hates getting his teeth cleaned, but he loves getting shaved. The sound of the shaver is enough to distract him. Getting shaved is his reward for letting us clean his teeth.”

I was amazed that something so simple would work! Several months later, I enjoy working with him.

I work in a retirement center as a server; we work the dining room in sections. My section is particularly busy, and on top of that, I have to spend five minutes I don’t have cleaning up syrup that spilled in the fridge. I’m running around but doing the best I can to get everyone’s order out as fast as possible. I approach a table that’s been waiting for coffee for a little while but also ordered an apple juice, which I have.

Me: “And here’s your apple juice.”

Resident #1: “Thank you, honey.”

Resident #2: “Aren’t you going to get her coffee?”

Me: “I’ll have it out as soon as I can.”

I give them both a smile and run back into the kitchen. I want to note that this isn’t said in a snippy tone, I still have other orders to work on from people that came in first, and I will work on the coffee just as soon as I take out some plates of food. When I do bring the coffee over though, I find she already has coffee; I assume one of my coworkers did it to help me out.

Me: “Oh! You already have coffee.”

I start to walk across the room to put away the coffee pot when the other resident says something I can’t quite hear but I know it’s directed at me.

Me: “What?”

Resident #2: “I said, I got it for her because of your attitude.”

I get really upset. Because I talk loud, I’m often mistaken for being angry, and it’s kind of a sore spot for me. Not to mention I’m tired from working a double the day before and am doing one today, so I end up taking a break, pretty much just so I can cry. I later find out that a lot of the other ladies around her got very upset and told her not to speak to me like that, including the resident who wanted the coffee to begin with. She also calls me over to apologize for the other resident’s behavior herself later on in the meal.

Resident #1: “Dear, I’m so sorry that she did that. That’s why I sit with her. You know, I’m trying to mold her into a proper lady, so she’s not such an a**hole. Don’t let what she said bother you; you’re doing a great job and you work so hard. What you need to do next time she’s giving you a hard time is put on your big girl shoes and tell her, ‘F*** you, old lady.’”

I was stunned, and while I would never say anything like that, it was nice to know that the other residents appreciate the fact I’m there all the time and really try my hardest the whole time.

(A female resident comes up to my desk. I know her and I cringe inside because this is a multiple-times-a-day occurence.)

Resident: Is the exercise activity on right now? 10:00?
Me: *looks at clock, sees 10:15* It started 15 minutes ago, actually, but you can still go. It goes to 11:00.
Resident: So it starts right now?
Me: No, it’s already started. But you can still go.
Resident: Ok, so it’s 10:00 now. Is it on the second floor?
Me: *internal sigh* Yes.
Resident: So that’s upstairs?
Me: We’re on the first floor, so yes, the second floor is upstairs.
Resident: So I go up two floors?
Me: No, just go up one floor – that’s the second floor. We are on the first floor right now.
Resident: So it’s on this floor?
Me: This is the first floor. It’s on the second floor. One floor up.
Resident: Ok, two floors up then. Bye! *she walks down the hall…the wrong way*
Me: *massive sigh*

(And the thing is, this resident doesn’t even have dementia or alzheimer’s. She’s just incredibly…uh…not intelligent. At all.)