What's the catch? I've gotta be on call eight hours a day to help move around this old guy with MS. In that eight hour day, I'll be doing, according to a prior caregiver, only two hours of real work.
Although, I got a tour of the place today and sat down with the guy and a prior caregiver for nearly two hours today, and I must say, I hardly consider it a "catch."
The guy is awesome, and, in many ways, is what I'd like to be when I'm older. He's retired, but he was an extremely active member of San Francisco's political scene for forty-some-odd years (and wouldn't be abject to using his connections to help me find something, if things between us worked out). He has two black cats. If I haven't said it here, I know that I've definitely told others that it has long been a secret desire of mine to have two black cats of my own, and to name one of them "Thirteen" and to name the other "Machiavelli". The guy is very laid back, very sociable, and very liberal, and great fun to talk to and....
In any case, this would undoubtedly be quite the opportunity to get if I got it. The guy is taken with me and, in case I haven't made it clear, I with him, and, as he said himself, "If I had to make the decision right now, I would say 'Yes.'
"But, alas, I don't."
Still, the only thing he's waiting on are two other applicants he has to see tomorrow. And the odds are certainly in my favor: I was the first to respond; he finds the fact that I've treked here all the way from Philadelphia all by my lonesome truly admirable; I have experience in the Personal Care department back at the retirement community; and the prior caregiver (who, since abandoning his post a few years back for bigger things in the area, has become very good friends with the guy) and this other, female friend of his are very taken with me and are definitely rooting for me.
He says he'll know by noon on Friday, and, if he decides in my favor, I can move in immediately.
Huttah.
My fingers are crossed, my breath is bated, and all that yackity-schmackity.