Sometimes I place an ad when I need to hire a new person for my pit crew. My pit crew is the group of people that pull my pants on me in the morning, wash my armpits, change my light bulbs, haul my ass around, etc. When some people answer the ad, they are quick to proclaim that they are a CNA (certified nursing assistant). And in response, I’m quick to proclaim, “I’ll try not to hold it against you.”
And then I tell them that I have a strict dress code for my pit crew. I’m like Puff Daddy. I have a certain image to uphold and I expect my posse to dress accordingly. So they can wear anything they want except a damn nurse’s uniform.
And when I say they can wear anything, I do mean anything. I had a pit crew member who often wore skirts that he made himself. He was neither gay nor a cross-dresser. That was just how he felt like dressing some days. He also wore colorful tights so he looked like a character out of Robin Hood.
All that was cool with me. Just so he didn’t look like a nurse. I know nurse’s uniforms aren’t what they used to be. They aren’t pure angel white and they no longer wear those funny origami hats. Today they wear surgical scrubs, sometimes decorated with teddy bears or smiley faces or Smurfs. But that’s even worse. I don’t want my posse wearing Smurfs!
I hate to be so rigid but it’s necessary. Because there’s no stopping some people. Back when I lived in government-subsidized housing for cripples, one of the cripples who lived upstairs hired this woman named Toni to wash her floors and dust and do laundry. And Toni shows up for work with a stethoscope hanging from her neck.
My Aunt Gerry complained to me the other day over lunch about her pit crew. Aunt Gerry's pit crew is sent to her by a home health agency so not only do they wear Smurfy scrubs but they’re also obsessed with taking her vitals. A woman comes over just to help her take a shower and the first thing the woman does is take her vitals and write them down. It’s irritating as hell. I mean, how would you like it if every time somebody came to your home they immediately took your vitals? You order a pizza but before the delivery guy hands it over he whips out a thermometer and blood pressure cuff.
Aunt Gerry is hesitant to refuse to give up her vitals because she’s afraid the agency will consequently refuse to serve her. But hell, it seems to me her right to sit on her vitals if she feels like it is protected by the 4th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution: “The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.”
Aunt Gerry ought to be able on any given day to say she’s securing her person and if anyone wants to search her and seize her vitals they’ll need a damn warrant.
This is why I’m such a hard ass about my dress code. Otherwise, look how easily things get out of hand.