CAREGIVER WANTED
Ambulation and toileting duty. No illusions. No applause.
The call came in at 6:42 a.m.
Same as yesterday. Same as the day before.
A client needs help. Not with errands. Not with chit-chat.
With the hard part. The part no one talks about.
Helping them get up. Helping them get clean.
You don’t get squeamish. You don’t get righteous.
You get gloves. You get moving.
Because when the body quits playing nice,
Someone's gotta keep the game from falling apart.
They’ve got pride left, buried under years of habit and shame.
Your job? Protect it. Quietly. Efficiently.
No fumbling. No lectures. No drama.
But the job doesn’t stop there.
Groceries. Light meals. A ride to the doctor.
Someone to remind them it’s Thursday, not Sunday.
You see what others miss — the slipped pill bottle,
the tired face pretending not to need help.
You help clean up, help them stand, help them sit.
And above all, you help them feel human.
Even when everything else says they’re not.
And maybe no one says it,
But you know:
It takes guts to do this work.
And a kind of quiet honor to do it well.
REQUIREMENTS:
– Reliable vehicle.
– Clean background check.
– Steady hands. Calm presence.
– Experience preferred, but attitude is king.
– Kindness that stays steady when things get messy.
You’re not saving the world.
Just making one person’s corner of it bearable.
That’s enough.
Clock in. Gloves on. Curtain rises.