Page 2 of Home Team Advantage
“Not that I know of, but people are always coming and going. There’s an online application on our website.”
Anna had a limited number of minutes on her phone, and she’d need most of them to find a place to sleep.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a printed one, would you?”
“As a matter of fact, we do. Most people can’t be bothered to write nowadays though. I’ll bring you one.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem, hon.”
As promised, a waitress brought an application with the coffee and the sandwich platter. Pulling a pen out of her purse, Anna began filling in the blanks in between bites. The place wasn’t busy. A few booths were occupied, and there was a four-top of lively senior citizens one table over.
“Eddie wants to put me in an old folks’ home,” one of the seniors was saying. She had beautiful snow-white hair and clear, intelligent blue eyes.
“No!”
“Yes. The home health nurse told him she wasn’t coming back because I need more care than she can provide. Pardon my French, but that’s BS. The girl spent more time on her phone than actually doing anything. And heaven forbid I ask her to do something not expressly in her job description, like change the sheets. You’d think I’d asked her to donate a kidney.”
Anna kept her smile to herself. The woman was sassy.
“What about that girl you had coming in to clean a few times a week?”
“She quit when I told her dusting around something wasn’t acceptable. Said I was too demanding.”
A heavy sigh. “You just can’t find good help nowadays.”
“Ain’t that the truth? You can’t even find someone to do windows anymore.”
“The younger generation has no work ethic.”
“Our parents said the same thing about us,” another remarked. “But in this case, it’s true.”
“I hate to say it, Elsa, but you don’t have a lot of options. It’s not safe for you to live alone. What if you fall, trying to get in or out of bed? Or worse, the shower?”
“Plus, you’ve been through every home health nurse and maid service in Pine Ridge.”
“They’re not called maids anymore, Millie. That’s politically incorrect.”
Someone scoffed. “What do you call them then?”
“Residential cleaning service technicians.”
“You made that up.”
“Did not.”
Anna stopped filling out the application. Could this be the open door Anna was looking for? Why not? What did she have to lose?
Anna slid from her booth and approached the ladies. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it sounds like what you need is a live-in personal caregiver. Someone who can provide basic care around the clock, as well as assist in whatever else you need.”
One of the ladies with purple-tinged hair nodded vigorously. “She’s right, Elsa. That’s exactly what you need.”
“No place around here does that, not for regular folk on a fixed income,” said another with penciled-in eyebrows and shockingly orange hair.
“Hypothetically speaking,” Anna continued, “what if you could find someone qualified? Someone, say, with elder care experience who would be willing to work for room and board and a reasonable salary?”
A tiny woman with the chunkiest set of pearls Anna had ever seen scoffed. “I’d say, it sounds too good to be true.”
