Mar
26

So before we reminisce:

Its been a pretty full on few months. The past five days we’ve under gone  massive refit and are now doubling our space over the next three weeks. The one thing this has made me certain of is my ability to deal with difficult situations and peoples expectations as well as managing my own. Rotten joists holding up the back of your shop on day one of project reno isn’t great. Even worse is day 5 ( t-1 day until we open) 4-5hours delayed getting into the floor less room the day before we open. The floor is reinstated however there is a flaw in the plan ( the pun is unintentional ). We have no hot water, no heating to heat and dry this cold shell of a building thats heavy with VERY wet walls. A building that has to accommodate the eagerly anticipated and oh so expectant clients of ours. It should be opulent and indulging in 24 hours! In fact significantly less that 24 hours, neared to 12. Right now I would settle for Structurally sound, Dry and warm.

We had been beaten. The building and the builders had let us down. We fell a day behind. When we promptly called the numbers provided to inform *mrs smith that regrettably we wouldn’t be able to make her appointment due to the fore mentioned reasons, reasons beyond our control. Her husband answered. Mr smith promptly informed us how he considered this to be “fucking unacceptable” and hoped the salon fell down around us all. A little dramatic me thinks surely he doesn’t think she’s a natural red head, does he?.

I feel like this is all pre adoption preparation. Ive nursed my ‘baby’ my business through its first four years and now. I’m setting it up to be able to hand a degree of it over to those I trust implicitly, again another loss and another gain. It has gone from just us to a team of 8 soon be 11.

I’ve prepared my baby for the arrival of our babies.

Three beautiful girls are also having significant weeks. Two meeting their social worker for the first time the 3rd waiting for panel next week. These beautiful women we met on our ‘preparation training’ which fell a little short of the mark. Its was the possibly the most intriguing social situation I’ve ever experienced. More to come on this at a later date. Im confident all of them will be seen for the beautiful pending parents they are. Happy mothers day ladies, I’ve a feeling the next one maybe a little different for you.

Now to prepare us….

Enough of my present day madness now to a little reminiscent rambling.

So where did I get to:

The wanting.

The waiting.

The frustration.

frustration
noun
1.
The feeling of being upset or annoyed as a result of being unable to change or achieve something.
“tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks”
synonyms: exasperation, annoyance, anger, vexation, irritation, bitterness, resentment; More
2.
The prevention of the progress, success, or fulfilment of something.
“the frustration of their wishes”
synonyms: thwarting, defeat, foiling, blocking, stopping, countering, spoiling, checking, baulking, circumvention, forestalling, dashing, scotching, quashing, crushing; More

I always thought of myself as relatively patient person. Until now. Every day I seemed to be filed with a growing sense of urgency.

I was and continued to be compliant sending back form after form after form, promptly. Chasing those who we had carefully selected. Yet nothing.  This felt worse than growing pains that used to wake me at night reducing me to tears whist my mum would carefully rub my legs in a bid to ease the pain.

Weeks seemed to pass with me emailing asking if we were any closer to being allocated a social worker. I was sure I had become know as ‘social worker steven’ in the office. Had I become the proverbial wasp in the glass? My persistence is solely and namely down to us both working for the salon, our clients regularly booked 4-6 weeks in advance, some for a whole 12 months. Synchronising 3 diaries that are so heavily governed by others was going to make this tricky and potentially time consuming.

One of my biggest fears was to do with diarisation. Myself, Jack, our clients and then our social worker all having to try and synchronise, a task I know to be near on impossible . Prioritising our clients would mean sacrificing our own journey, prioritising us would mean potentially loosing our clients. We needed our social worker to prioritise use.

prioritise
prʌɪˈɒrətʌɪz/Submit
verb
verb: prioritise
Designate or treat (something) as being very or most important.
“the department has failed to prioritise safety within the oil industry”
Determine the order for dealing with (a series of items or tasks) according to their relative importance.
“age affects the way people prioritise their goals”

I was surprised by the level of support we received. Most where supportive promptly followed by “make sure you write down what I have” or “make sure you see me just before you go off”. This eased a growing worry abut what would happen in my absence.

This handing over was going to be an emotional process fro me and them, I had invested in my clients and they had invested in me in equal measure ( largely )

All  of this is of course ok in theory. The reality is although we have our metaphorical pregnancy we don’t have our due date, we aren’t really pregnant.

We do however have our social workers email now. What feels like an eternity passes and I’m told we have been allocated our social worker. So I immediately google them. Im only able to do this as they are CC’d in on the email. Bizarrely Jack and she grew up on the same island, the place Jack refers to as home. The islands he often uses to kid his clients that his dark hair, olive skin and green eyes are inherited from. They are in fact largely blue and the Mediterranean glow is better known as St Tropez of the areole variety and the hair from Kerafibe.

The social worker hadn’t replied to my mildly desperate attempts at creating a communication thread with them. So in haste and frustration once again choosing to not play ‘the game’. I cease this window of opportunity. I grab the metaphorical bull buy its bastard horns. I CALL. We have a brief conversation about my reasoning to get all future appointments booked given our nature of work.  The line goes quiet theres an awkward silence “hello” I say desperately checking they are still present they reply “hi?” I ask if they have any dates and its then I’m told their preference is to deal with this via email. Followed by a polite ‘thank you and we will speak soon’. The line goes dead.

So I wait. AGAIN. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday passes and Friday approaches!

By the time we get to Friday I have the compulsive urge to email. To chase up. So I embrace my complete lack of self control and its sent. I feel like I’m becoming a pushy pre parent.  I wanted to touch base before the week was out the tag line was something akin to

“Just double checking you received my last email. Hope your well. We cant wait to meet you”

I heard nothing.

The weekend came and went.

Monday arrived as did her response. “Hi guys sorry for the delay in getting back to you I just wanted to re arrange some appointments so i can carry out all your visits on a Monday when your both off’

AMAZING. We had struck gold she understood out inflexibility due to the nature of the job, or the beast as I affectionally refer to in times like these. Times when we need flexibly, not to be governed by out 45 min scheduled 12 hour a days.

A second email arrives with a list of all of our 6 visit that have to be carried out over a 12 week period. Each visit is going to take between 2-4 hours. We have a 12 week window to impress upon her our suitability and consistency.

I felt like we were making headway now. We were on the journey. Theres a sense of comfort in having everything diarised. A few day pass and we get a second email. Our social worker was in receipt of our paperwork. The chronology I had pawed over for countless hours ensuring every month, year and event stitched together neatly, no frayed edges or imperfections. The email continues “having had time to through your paper work I am going to proceed and book your panel date already” I couldn’t quite believe what I was reading. THE DATE!! The one we are all making our way towards, I had it, we had been allocated our slot for panel.

noun
social welfare
(in Britain) a committee appointed by an adoption agency, such as a local authority, to make recommendations concerning the suitability of prospective adoption cases

Our golden ticket.

Our social worker hadn’t even met us, yet she was booking our panel date. This was all based on our paperback edition: ‘us’

us
[ʌs]
PRONOUN
Used by a speaker to refer to himself or herself and one or more other people as the object of a verb or preposition: Compare with we.
“let us know” · [More]
informal
me:
“give us a kiss”

 

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  1. Matthew - meandminimees Reply

    Hang in there, the process goes on for ever, then some! Then they arrive, you blink and it’s ten years later! Hope all goes well, and wishing you all the best

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