it's a hard knock life

Joel got "let go" from his job as a barback today...in a text message. It never ceases to amaze me how unprofessional people are in the restaurant industry.

He was at his first job when he received the text message, so he waited until he got off and went over to Boone's to speak with a manager. They told him their reasons were because he a.) continuously asked the bartenders for tipouts, and b.) didn't clean the floors well enough, and they were having to be cleaned again in the morning, and it "just wasn't working out."

When Joel was hired, he was told the job was hourly wage + tipouts. Once he started working there, he never received tipouts, and when he asked, he was told it was only when they were busy. Then, when they were busy, he still didn't get tipped out. I don't think Joel was wrong in asking for the tipout, but I think he went about it in the wrong manner. He shouldn't have been asking the bartenders, he should have gone to upper management and asked what the conditions of the job were, and if they had changed he should have been told as much. Since we're only getting the Joel side of the story, it's possible he was told, and just didn't listen, but who knows.

I don't think Joel's that broken up over it, because he got home at 5am this morning and had to be at his other job at 10am. I don't think it would have been long before he decided it wasn't the right place for him--we had a conversation in the car, just this morning, about how he wasn't really happy there because he thought he was going to be getting tips, and he wasn't, and the amount of work he was doing wasn't worth $8/hr. I personally see it as a blessing in disguise, because he now has a bit more time to dedicate to his GED and schoolwork. He's not happy, because he needs a second job if he wants to drive his sweet ass whip, but I have no doubt he will be out looking for another job tomorrow in order to be able to drive.

I remember the only job I ever got "let go" from--I worked at a card store when I was 15, and a new manager came in and pushed everybody out the door, giving all of us a different reason of why we weren't good employees. I remember feeling stricken and hurt, and going home in tears--no one likes being told they aren't good enough. But in Joel's case, I think this might be a good thing for him. A bit of a humbling experience, which is something he needs in his life--knowing that in any job, you are always replaceable. Harsh, but a reality. He's always talking himself up, saying how they "need him"--and he's just been handed a reality check that no one "needs" him, and employment is a privilege, not a right.

I don't even know what to title this one.

Joel got a phone call yesterday from an old friend letting him know his sister had been arrested.

http://www.wral.com/news/news_briefs/story/8970500/

Finding out things like this just tell me that we did the right thing by getting him out of Raleigh. He wasn't in contact with his sister, but he was in contact with his father, who saw his sister often. The article doesn't say it, but they later found out that the person who "committed" the robbery was Ownie Henry, who is his sister's boyfriend, and the person who got Joel involved in illegal activity back when Joel was 15.

The saddest part? Lindsay just had a baby. Both parents are now in jail, and Joel's parents can't even get custody of their own children--so, another one added to the foster care system...

sweet ass whips!

Take most people, they're crazy about cars. They worry if they get a little scratch on them, and they're always talking about how many miles they get to a gallon, and if they get a brand-new car already they start thinking about trading it in for one that's even newer. I don't even like old cars. I mean they don't even interest me. I'd rather have a goddam horse. A horse is at least human, for God's sake. ~J.D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye

So, Joel has become fixated on driving. While I understand this need, or urge, he refuses to listen to us on the issues of how expensive owning a car is, how he is not going to be able to park downtown when he goes to work for 15 hours a day, how if he does he is going to get parking tickets and boots, and that the beauty of living downtown is not having to drive. But, he's never had a license, and for those of you that know about the debacle with the car and tickets in Raleigh know we're not starting with a clean slate here.

The short version of the story is this: At the start, Joel informed us he wanted to purchase a "sweet ass whip*," and I, probably because I'm so old, had no idea what that meant. Since then, I have had multiple "sweet ass whips" pointed out to me on the road, so I now have a better understanding. Unfortunately Joel is unable to afford said sweet ass whip, since he will be spending about $200 a month on car insurance. Joel decided to compromise his lofty goals of purchasing the 1992 Lexus on craiglist for $1500 (engine not included) and agree to a more reasonable solution. My dad (thank heavens for him) is selling Joel his old car. It's a 1998 Ford Explorer, but it's in good shape both mechanically and physically, and will be something reliable and safe he can drive.

In the state of SC, you cannot get a driver's license unless you have an active insurance policy, regardless of if you own a vehicle or not. So, Joel is going to have to fork over the money to activate the insurance to get the license--and if he fails the test, he's wasted that money. As I am quickly discovering, though, convincing a 19 year old that they don't know everything is quite a tough feat. Joel is certain, although coming from NC, that he knows the SC laws, can pass the test, and his ability to "sort of parallel park" will serve him well enough. The catch? He needs US to take him to the DMV to take his test.

One condition of Joel moving here with us was to get his GED. While his class has been cancelled a few times, he has not been doing any studying on his own, regardless of the extensive suggestions Brandan and I have given him. After a talk with my mom (mom is always right), she suggested we find out what means something to him, and use it as an incentive. So, the plan is this: Get your GED, and I'll take you to get your driver's license. On a smaller scale, finish those 4 pages of math problems, and I'll take you outside and teach you how to parallel park for an hour. We know that (despite Joel's refusals) that the minute he gets that car and license, he's gone. Studying is going to be out of the picture. So I told him I'm holding the car, and not taking him to take his driver's test, until he gets the GED.

It's tough, because we're not Joel's parents. But we moved Joel here with us, and he has no one else to provide him guidance and keep him on track. At first I felt like I couldn't say things like, "you can't have your license until you get your GED," because that's such a parent thing to say. But I'm quickly realizing that Joel still needs these kind of boundaries and goals set for him, and we're the only people who are going to do it. He makes poor decisions because he doesn't have the knowledge to make good ones, and it's up to Brandan and I to educate him about how the real world works, so that when the time comes, he can make the right choice on his own.

*"Whip"-When the steering wheel was first put into use in automobiles, it was called the "whip". The whip is what you used to control the horses on a stagecoach, hence the analogy. Many years later, various hip hop artists noticed that the Mercedes-Benz logo resembled a steering wheel. They then proceeded to use the old term "whip" to describe any Mercedes-Benz vehicle. The term has now been generalized to classify any expensive automobile.
Source: www.urbandictionary.com

the beauty of being old

It feels like everything in our house has settled into what will become a familiar routine. Joel has started working 2 jobs--one at King Street Grille and a second shift at Boone's Bar and Grill. He works about 35 hours a week at each place, so he's rarely around for dinner and the like, but he has made sure that both places know he has class on Monday and Wednesday nights and is not available to work. His current schedule has him off on Mondays, at class on Monday nights, a double on Tuesdays (keep in mind, a double is King Street Grille from 10am-5pm and Boone's from 5pm-3am), Wednesday dayshift at King Street Grille from 10-5, class Wednesday night from 6-8, Thursday dayshift off (we have deemed this 'study time,' although neither of us are here to enforce, so the amount of actual studying done is questionable), Thursday night at Boone's from 5pm-3am, and straight doubles Fri, Sat, and Sun, with an early close of 8pm on Sunday. If nothing else, Joel is a hard worker. He seems to have a (vague) idea of where he wants to be, and has learned that not much else other than hard work will get you there. I've heard him say numerous times that he never ever wants to go back to jail again, that it was the scariest place he's ever been, and I think he's proving to both us and himself that he has left that old self by the wayside. Perhaps this realization seems a bit delayed, after knowing him for a year and a half and moving him here with us, but it's hard to not have that nagging doubt that the person he was might still be buried in there somewhere, and come back and destroy all of us when it all just becomes too much for him. I'm starting to believe though, that he's moved on and grown up a bit. Don't get me wrong, there's still plenty of growing up for him to do, but it feels like he's headed in the right direction.

Brandan and I have been informed multiple times since we moved in with Joel that we are old. Being under 30, this is hard to swallow--I am old in someone else's eyes. Wasn't I just here in college, in my jeans and flip flops, headed to class? I'm back, and I'm still in my jeans and flip flops--but I'm no longer part of the heartbeat of this town. The current of energy comes from the college students, and they are all cohesive, coming together as a unit, and keeping this place alive, like a heartbeat. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to have moved on. It simply feels like it wasn't that long ago that I was a part of it all. Now, I'm being told by someone in that group that I am an outsider, an 'old person.' And while a close look in the mirror reveals some fine lines around the eyes that weren't there a few years ago, I don't FEEL old. So, I resign myself to the fact that perhaps I'm not quite as old as Joel makes me out to be, and not quite as ancient as I make myself out to be after being told I'm old. It's easy to forget how much of a difference 10 years makes at that age. While I think Joel over exaggerates ("Society has changed since you guys were young, relationships are different, you don't know how things are now"), I remind myself we are of the same generation, and 10 years from now, when he is our age, he will realize that he's just getting started on life.

So, I try as much as possible to be 'cool and hip,' and at the same time let Joel be 19. As much as it drives me crazy when he comes out of his room, sits down at the table, scarfs down a meal, and immediately gets up and goes back to his room, I remind myself that this is his first opportunity at being a normal kid. And for a 19-year old, that is normal behavior. He comes with a history of living in a trailer in Colorado with 13 people, and living in a car with 3 other people. He comes from foster care, abusive parents, drug and alcohol abuse. It's a small miracle that he's come out as unbroken as he is. So when something that presents itself as a typical teenager trait drives me crazy, I do my best to let it slide, and let him be a normal, sullen, withdrawn, untalkative teenager, just like the rest.

In the meantime, we will continue to be "the old people," who give him advice that he doesn't want or doesn't think is relevant to his life. But 10 years from now, when he is "old," and has the sudden realization that all those little snippets of advice given over dinner, or in the car on the way to work, or down the hall as the door closes halfway through my sentence were actually accurate, I will know I wasn't wasting my breath. I was simply passing on what is meant to be passed on. The advice my parents gave me, about life, when I thought they knew nothing. Turns out they knew it all. And when I think he's not listening, I think about myself, and how I didn't think I was listening, but now realize I was, all along.

you've gotta start somewhere.

So we've all been living together, in various locations and in various stages of disarray, for a little over a week now. Not that I thought it wouldn't take adjusting, but I think it's been a bigger challenge than any of us expected. That being said, none of us have been working--so I'm hopeful that once everyone gets into their regular routines, things will get a bit easier.

Living with a teenager is tough. Especially when you're used to your own personal space, not having to worry about or account for anyone but yourself. All of a sudden, there's rap music blasting through the walls, the shower runs for 45 minutes, and the cell phone becomes an appendage of the body. I try my best to understand, and to listen when he rattles on, because I know it's important that I can show I was listening later on.

So, we're all adjusting. Brandan started his new job today, I'm still working on the unpacking and disaster that is the house, and Joel got a job offer this afternoon working at the King Street Grille for $9/hr, and they are willing to work around his school schedule. He starts tomorrow at 10am, so hopefully that will go well. I have a medical test tomorrow for employment with the city, and a psych test on Wednesday. My parents come to visit next Tuesday, and we are toying with the idea of going to Bald Head for New Year's Eve with the whole family. I start with the CPD on January 3rd--perhaps after all that, some normalcy will come into our lives.

Tonight we're off to see the Festival of Lights at James Island County Park. In between the nagging and the reprimanding, I'm trying to throw in some fun, normal, family-like activities--we got a tree and decorated it together with Christmas carols playing, I hung 3 stockings on the wall, and we're going to see the lights tonight. All very cliche, I know, but Joel has never had anything like that in his life before. He's actually started wearing clothes that fit him, so I know we're having at least a small bit of influence. :)

Life Lessons

I'm struggling here. In trying to teach Joel how to be someone who both gives and gets respect, Brandan and I advised him to give his employers 2 weeks notice. Their response? Giving him zero hours on the schedule. At both jobs. After sitting at home for a week, they call him in yesterday to cover shifts when others didn't show up--and then proceed to again, give him zero scheduled hours the second week.

I realize this is an issue of poor management skills on their part, but it affects Joel directly. He needed the money from those 2 weeks, and told them he was leaving out of respect. What they are teaching him is he should just stay until his last day, without giving notice, and walk out, which is the complete opposite of what I am trying to teach him.

I know we should all just move on and let it go. I know it's not my place to say anything, or to get involved. But when I hear a voicemail left by his boss, on his phone, that begins with, "Hey Douchebag..." I can't help but be a bit angry at the way he's being treated. Had he been a crummy employee, fine, but he's not. He's dedicated, he shows up for work, he pulls double shifts when they ask him, and covers for others or comes in when they call him in at the last minute.

So, I continue to tell him that he did the right thing, and they are the ones at fault, but it isn't a very convincing argument at this point. I'm sure this will not be the last time I deal with this, but how do you teach what the right thing is, when the right thing brings the wrong results??

Our Story

When I began volunteering at Wake House in Raleigh, NC in 2009, I had no idea what to expect. I had sought it out on a whim--I had seen multiple reports of children running away, and my curiosity got the better of me. When I first showed up on the door step, I didn't even know what it was. My boss had mentioned that it was some type of foster care facility, but even Google didn't have a good idea. Most of the employees were either confused or suprised, as none of them had ever heard of someone wanting to volunteer there. And the kids? They were convinced I was there for some other reason--to fufill school requirements, as part of my job, or they just thought I was getting paid to be there. They couldn't understand why anyone would spend their spare time hanging out with them, when I could have been doing so many other things. I wasn't so sure myself, but it didn't take very long for me to become convinced I was in the right place.

Wake House is a foster care group home owned by Wake County in North Carolina. It is a temporary housing facility, meaning the residents can only stay for a maximum of 90 days before they must be placed somewhere else, be it a foster family, another group home, or a theraputic facility. This particular property houses only boys, from the ages of 8-18. There are many shortcomings of the foster care system, some that have, at times, brought me to both extreme anger and to tears. There are also many other children in that facility, whether there for 9 days or 90, who have touched my heart in different ways. But this blog is not about them, and I am going to do my best to stick to the reason I'm writing in the first place.

I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. Not in a religious way, or a crazy "your destiny can't be avoided" kind of way, but I have realized that everything always works out in the end. I'm reminded of a quote, although I can't recall who said it...."Everything is always alright in the end. If it isn't alright, it isn't the end." I think we are faced with choices everyday, and I'd like to think that I made the right choices, as they have brought me to this moment.

When I began my first day of volunteering, I met Joel Noble. I could go on for pages about Joel, and how he came to be such a signifigant presence in my life, and I in his. I could tell you story after story about how we got from my first day of volunteer work to where we are now. I could tell you about the lying, the drugs, the days spent in court. I could tell you about the love, the forgiveness, and the space in my heart I didn't know I had. But no matter how many stories I told, you probably wouldn't understand how we got to where we are, simply because I don't understand it myself.

When I first met Joel, he was on house arrest. I of course only got his side of the story, and in working for the police department, I have learned to take the criminal's side of the story with a grain of salt. Yet Joel seemed truly dedicated to turning his life around, and he was just 2 months away from aging out of the foster care system. He was terrified of ending up homeless, which is what happens to childen in foster care who age out at 18 and have no family or friends to turn to. As Joel asked for my help, my husband's voice resonated in my head: "You can volunteer there as much as you want, but don't bring them home with you."

I threw myself into helping Joel. I decided if Joel wanted it for himself, then I was willing to help him. We spent endless evenings driving around town, trying to find employment for him, filling out job applications. After 3 weeks of searching, a new burger joint called Uncle Fatty's offered Joel a position as a cook, flipping burgers. With his newfound employment, we went on the hunt for an apartment, and by some miracle found a small studio for $400/month, all utilities included. I went with him to meet the landlord, who decided to give Joel a chance. So many people, taking chances on someone. Had just one of them hesitated--he wouldn't have made it. Joel moved out of Wake House and into his apartment on his 18th birthday, November 11th, 2010.

It's only been a little over a year since that day, but it feels like a lifetime. We have been through so many ups and downs, so many experiences. Joel has crossed me and lied to me, and I've said I was throwing in the towel every time. And every time, I forgave him. I found a little more space in my heart that I didn't know I had, and I realized that most of these issues were tests on his part, wether concious or unconcious. When you come from a family where you can trust no one, and everyone else looks out for only themselves, it is probably quite difficult to believe that there is someone, who is essentially still a stranger, that is looking out for you. It has taken its sweet time, but through the highs and lows, I think Joel has finally realized that family isn't always blood, and blood isn't always family.

On December 15, 2010, my husband and I are moving to Charleston, SC--and we are taking Joel with us. (Yes, we may possibly have lost our minds. And no, we don't know what we're getting into.) I made the decision that at the end of the day, I have to be able to say I did everything I could do within my power to help him. If I leave him here in Raleigh, with no family, no support system, and no one to expect anything of him, then I didn't do everything I could do.

Joel becoming part of our family was extremely unexpected. Every time my head told me to walk away, my heart told me to stay. From this point on, I only hope that I can show him what a family SHOULD be like, what love SHOULD feel like, and what a truly happy life is. The support from friends and family has been astounding to me, and I hope this blog will help them follow the next part of our journey, as we continue on our adventure.

Although this post should probably end there, I feel a need to recognize my husband for his support and dedication. We started this experience with "don't bring them home with you," and are now opening our home and hearts to Joel. My husband is not outward with his emotions, and can often be hard to read--but it is obvious that he cares about Joel. Perhaps he tolerated my initial dedication to helping Joel turn his life around, but it is plain to see that he has grown from tolerating it to embracing it. He deserves some sort of award for his patience and understanding with me.

My mother always told me I couldn't save the world. She was probably right. But I can sure try, one person at a time.