The Service

Community service isn’t just about enriching your neighborhood but yourself, as well. But what if I’m not ready to better myself, and why should I subject strangers to being part of my process?

It was my last summer before I graduated from J.H.U. I should have been spending those three months getting as drunk and high as possible with my high school friends back home and sleeping until one in the afternoon, but my parents raised me to plan for the future, so I decided to take on an internship: a nice mailroom job at one of the local businesses around town that would look great on my resume.

Much to my disbelief, no one was looking for anymore free labor. They all told me if they took me on, it would just be me in the other kids having too much free time on our hands and goofing off. I didn’t see the problem with that, but I understood they had a business model to uphold.

Being forced back to the drawing board, I turned to Craigslist to see what else was out there. Apparently I had waited too long; all that was left were three positions at an adult daycare center. I figured that’d show my caring and nurturing side in case anyone was put off by my resting-douchebag-face. I applied, received a phone interview, and was accepted the next day. Something smelled of desperation, but I reeked of it, too.

It didn’t fully hit me until I showed up the first day what was going to be expected of me. This was an adult day care, as in a day care for adults with - how can I say it - special needs. I don’t know how it didn’t come up during the interview. I acquired zero experience in interacting with people of this variety in my 21 years of living. In fact, shamefully, I avoided them. It’s bad enough I naturally come off as a jerk; I didn’t want to inadvertently say the wrong thing or stare too long and justify people thinking I’m a terrible person. I almost turned around after checking in at the front desk, but I knew this challenge had presented itself to me for a reason. I decided to stay for the duration of the day, and if I made an ass of myself, then and only then could I banish myself to a night of drinking away the embarrassment. Besides, everyone on staff appreciated me applying for the position; I couldn’t let them down already.

After receiving about three hours of training - which seemed pretty hasty to me - they paired me with Bernardette. Everyone called her Ms. Peters. As we walked through the hospitality room, I tried my best not to flinch as the adults in the room stared blankly or talked with one another. I thought someone tried to touch me, but he was just reaching for a book that happened to be on the floor behind me. Ms. Peters stopped at a young woman in a wheelchair parked in front of the T.V. She might have been my age, maybe a little older.

Ms. Peters introduced me to Janel; I stuck out my hand to shake hers, but she looked at it in disgust. I pulled my hand back I had just touched a hot stove as Ms. Peters explained that Janel had cerebral palsy that affected her motor skills as well as some of her congentive thinking, but for the most part she was there. Her parents just didn’t know what to do with her. I immediately felt a ping in my heart, but I didn’t recognize the feeling.

I apologized to Janel and sat next to her on the sofa. She didn’t seem to want anything to do with me, probably smelling the fear on me. I asked her what she was watching, attempting to break the ice. “Jeopardy. Everybody knows Jeopardy. You don’t know Jeopardy?” I laughed and told her I did; I just hadn’t seen it in years or known it was still a thing. “This is how I learn. Since my parents won’t seen me to school.” I asked if it was because she couldn’t hold a pen steady enough to take notes. “You don’t get to make jokes yet. ...but that wasn’t terrible.” I felt for her; her parents putting her up in here everyday instead of paying for tuition and a note taker didn’t make sense. Plenty of kids on campus had jobs like that.

“Stop being nervous. I don’t bite.” I snapped out of my deep thought and smiled. I opened my mouth but stopped. “Yes, because I can’t hold still eno--” She experienced a tremor, my first time seeing one. I reached out for her, but she put her hand up. After a few seconds, it dissipated. “--still enough.” She smirked. Maybe this summer wouldn’t be so bad after all.