(I work the front desk at an assisted living home. My desk is in an area set up like a living room. Residents and their visitors hang out here throughout the day. I always have music playing for them — pretty much always something instrumental. Today, being Christmas Eve, I have a jazz piano holiday playlist playing. Most people are very appreciative of it, and so far — of what I’ve paid attention to — it’s been Christmas songs. Then, I recognize a song that relates to Hanukkah. It’s a very upbeat song and I’m enjoying it even though I don’t celebrate the holiday, because music is music. Then, this lady who I recognize as the daughter of a resident, comes up with a look of Hell’s own fury upon her face.)

Resident’s Daughter: “It’s Christmas! This is a Christian place!”

(It’s not; we have residents and staff of several religions here.)

Resident’s Daughter: “My dad hates this song!”

(He’s actually sitting in his wheelchair smiling and nodding along to the beat.)

Resident’s Daughter: “Why are you playing this disgusting bulls***?!”

(And then, after she blows her gasket, she asks me to turn it off. Cue my customer service face:)

Me: “No, ma’am, the rest of my residents and their visitors seem to be enjoying it.”

Resident’s Daughter: “You’re a godd*** Jew-lover!” *explodes into an incoherent rage of screaming and profanities*

Me: *customer service smile again* “Yes, ma’am. I love Jewish people, Christians, Muslims, Pagans… Religion doesn’t matter to me. I judge a person based on their character.”

(I think her eyeballs about popped out of her face as she turned a wonderfully festive shade of red, did more of the incoherent screaming and swearing thing, and then stomped out the door… or tried to, because I didn’t unlock the door in time and she kind of smacked into it. Oops.)

(I’m a nursing assistant in training. On my second day of practice at a nursing home, I am asked to feed an elderly woman. Not all of the residents are able to move their arms or grip properly, or are even there mentally to realize food is in front of them, and I’ve already spoon-fed a few people. At first, this one seems no different.)

Me: “Okay, Mrs. [Resident]. I’m [My Name] and I’ll be helping you with your breakfast today. What would you like to start with?”

Resident: *vague noise*

Me: “Um… all right, then. Let’s just start with the eggs.”

(I feed her for some time, occasionally holding a cup to her lips, as well. At no point does she nod, shake her head, lift her hands, or give any sort of noise that sounds remotely like a word. When I’m more than half done, a nurse comes in with her medicine, part of which is liquified and in a cup. The resident takes the cup from the nurse and drinks on her own, then grabs her spoon to scrape the last of the medicine from the cup. Once this is done, she starts feeding herself.)

Me: “…”

Nurse: “You should still help her.”

Me: “R-really? Um…”

(I look around for anything she might still need, and see that I forgot to add butter to her meal earlier.)

Me: “Oh! Mrs. [Resident], would you like me to add some butter to your toast?”

Resident: *mumbles*

Me: *leaning over* “What was that?”

Resident: *at the top of her lungs* “YES!”

(I am in the break room, hanging up a sign that my boss wants on the wall. I roll four pieces of tape on the back and hang it up, and then turn around to sit and start my lunch. A coworker comes in just as I smooth my hand over the sign, affixing it to the wall.)

Coworker: “How… did you do that?”

Me: “Do what?”

Coworker: “That sign. I don’t see how it’s hanging there… It’s just… hanging there.”

Me: “Tape?”

Coworker: “But where’s the tape? I don’t see it.”

Me: “It’s on the back?” *goes over and peels one of the corners off to show him where I rolled the tape*

Coworker: “Wow! I’ve never seen tape done like that!”

(He closely inspected how I’d rolled the tape and stuck the sign on, then wished me a good lunch and walked off. I guess… I have amazing taping skills? I thought taping things like that was common knowledge, but I guess not.)

(I work in the front lobby of an assisted living building. My large desk is in one corner and there are chairs, couches, and tables all around where the residents hang out. On the right side of my desk, there is a lower portion where I display announcements and stack flyers for the day’s events, etc. Residents frequently stand there and stare at the things posted there. I always turn and say hello and ask if they need anything. A resident comes up and starts looking at the things posted.)

Me: “Hello, [Resident]. Can I help you with anything?”

Resident: “Nope.” *goes back to reading announcements*

Me: “Okay, let me know if you need anything!” *goes back to typing and phone calls, keeping an eye on the resident out of the corner of my eye*

(It’s been a good five minutes, maybe more, and I’ve taken a couple of phone calls, rummaged in my desk for supplies, and have been typing on the computer — my usual daily things. The resident is still there, which is not unusual at all, as most residents take forever and a day to read the things there. Then, all of a sudden…)

Resident: “What in the h*** is taking you so g**d*** long?! I’ve been standing here forever!” 

(She’s actually been sitting there on her walker seat, looking like she’s just sitting around like people always do.)

Me: “I’m sorry, you didn’t say anything. I thought you were just reading the announcements. You should have said something.”

Resident: “You know g**d*** well I’ve been waiting for you! Lazy b****!”

Me: *taken aback* “I’m sorry you feel that way. People stand there quietly reading all the time and…”

Resident: “I need a toothbrush. I’ve got food in my teeth. The people upstairs told me to come to ask you for one.”

Me: “Who told you to come down here for that?”

Resident: “Why the h*** do you need to know? They told me to come to the g**d*** front desk!”

Me: “I need to know because I’ve never had things like toothbrushes up here and I need to tell whoever told you that so they don’t mislead someone again.”

Resident: “How the h*** did you even get this job?! Useless!” *keeps ranting loudly all the way back down the hallway, using several more expletives*

(I guess I got cussed out for not being psychic enough to know what she wanted and for not doing something that has never been even close to part of my job. A toothbrush? Do I look like a drugstore?!)

(I work at an assisted living facility. We have a sign-in computer at the front desk. It’s fairly new and while there have been a few who don’t like it, most people have been agreeable about it.)

Visitor: “What’s this? Where’s the book?”

Me: “That’s our new sign-in computer. We’ve done away with the book to save on paper.”

Visitor: “Well, this doesn’t work for me. Give me the book.”

Me: “We don’t have it anymore. Here, I’ll show you how—”

Visitor: *cuts me off* “No! This doesn’t work for me!”

(This repeats over and over, with me offering to show him how to use it — it’s a very user-friendly, super easy interface — and him telling me it “doesn’t work for him” every time. Finally, his wife comes in from parking the car.)

Visitor’s Wife: “Honey, have you signed in?”

Visitor: “NO! I’m not going to. This doesn’t work for me.” *said with all the whiny petulance of a small toddler*

Visitor’s Wife: *rolls eyes* “You’re going to get it, dear. Just do this…” *signs him in while he watches with a sour, pouty face*

Visitor: “Whatever. It doesn’t work for me.”

(Then, he took the printed name badge, LICKED THE BACK, and looked super confused as to why it fell to the floor instead of sticking to his shirt. His wife and I shared a look of bewilderment and shook our heads as she peeled the back off and silently stuck it to him. I managed to not laugh until they left.)