I'm Getting Paid For It

No, I'm not getting paid to write this blog and even if I was I'd still write it.  I am thinking of a recent conversation I had with one of my supervisors.  You might recall my reluctance to name my employer in this blog given that I might not be inclined to flatter them and this organization is notoriously vindictive towards its less than flattering employees.  Especially when they are underpaid contract workers.  I had mentioned that I would have to prioritize my availability for clients upon how soon they would be available to work for me.  I have bills to pay and we are paid twelve whopping bucks, strictly by the hour, per client.  My supervisor, wanting to sound supervisorial, especially in front of co-workers, intoned that we can only avail ourselves to our clients according to their needs and not to fit with our preferences.  I informed my supervisor that since this is my livelihood and I do like paying my rent on time, for me this is going to remain a priority.
     In my workplace, for contract workers, there is no sense of social contract.  We are disposable and this is offensive as it is insulting and fortunately there are enough things that I like about my job that make it tolerable, despite this rather lousy attitude they have towards their contract workers where there is no job security, no guaranteed hours, and absolutely no opportunities for advancement or raises.
     Finding another job at my age is not an option.  I also like what I do.  I sometimes ask myself if I had to do this for free, would I?  Well, under certain circumstances.  If I already had a decent income and didn't have to worry about shelter, food, clothing or transportation, then yes, I would be happy, in fact honoured to do this kind of work, supporting and encouraging others towards mental health recovery.  Especially if I worked for a much nicer employer.  And I do hope that when I reach retirement age in fewer than seven short years that I will still have my boots on.  Really the idyllic boredom of full retirement would be just the death warrant I would not be seeking.  I think I would try to reduce my hours somewhat since my pension will have kicked in and I trust there wouldn't be too many claw backs for hours worked.  And of course I trust that my health will hold out since there are no guarantees in life.
     Doing work that is as socially intensive as mental health peer support work, the boundaries between the personal and the professional can be easily blurred, especially, and this happens often, when I like my clients.  On occasion I have had to tell a client that this is not a friendship since it all revolves around the clients' needs and it shouldn't take a genius to figure out the longevity of any friendship that would be completely one-sided.  This is why, when I get home from work, I am often emotionally exhausted and not exactly in the mood for a lot of social stimulation.  I also try to be very careful to not be an emotional burden on my own friends whom to a certain degree I treat also like clients, not with a clinical detachment but a genuine concern for their wellbeing.  By the same token I treat my clients like friends, but I always draw the line at bringing my own baggage and problems into the equation.  To work well in any professional supportive or care-giving capacity it has to be entirely and completely about the wellbeing, care, growth, progress and recovery of the client.
     But I'm still going to make sure I get enough work to pay the bills.