Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Mrs SandDancer Goes to Work

My mother has got a new job. I'm so pleased for her. She hadn't been working for the past year or so - at first she was officially my gran's carer but since she went to live in the home, she hasn't really been doing anything (well, apart from the endless decorating she seems to do) and she was getting bored.

The new job is chef in a respite home (where disabled people go temporarily to give their families a rest). She didn't think she had any chance of getting the job but they rang her back the day she had the interview to offer her the job. The conversation we had at this point was bizarre - the lack of self-belief things she said, were things I've said myself e.g. 'I thought it had gone badly, but I suppose they must have liked me to offer me the job, but I can't see why'. It was like talking to myself and I realised how frustrating it must be!

It was her first day yesterday. They hadn't agreed exact hours yet but told her to come in for 8am. I called her at 7pm to see how the day went and there was no answer. I called back at 8pm and she had just got home. A 12 hour day on her first day. She was exhausted. Apparently she was dropped in at the deep end as the other chef is off sick all week. But she thinks it will be ok once she's settled in and she was so happy when she got the job that she would be 'working somewhere that is doing some good'.

I'm very proud of her and perhaps not as alarmed as I once would have been by how similar we are.

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