Help Wanted Ads and Obituaries

One thing about me, I will quit my job. No growth at the company? I’ll quit. Not paying enough? I’ll quit. Twelve seconds from being led off in handcuffs due to ignorant coworkers? I. Will. Quit. I will quit, and I will figure it out later. No, I am not a terrible employee. I earn several accolades at every job that is blessed enough to have me. But you guessed it, I will quit. Why, because my aunty said that I can.

My aunt was my hero. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, but my aunt was who I wanted to be when I grew up. My aunt though named Marcia, went by her middle name Patrice. Or, if you were family, she answered to Cat Face. Patrice was a gun toting Sherriff. No, literally. She worked for the Fulton County Sherriff’s Office for over 20 years. She partied when she wanted, cursed like a sailor, and enjoyed the single life after a marriage that didn’t work.

Their split was amicable. Uncle Kenny, her ex-husband, stayed close to my family—even during the aftermath of the divorce. They never said a bad word about each other. In my family it is heavily encouraged for kids to “stay in a child’s place”, so I never got the tea on what went down. Patrice was a hard ass when she needed to be. The inmates at Rice Street’s jail where she worked knew she was not the one. Barely 5’5, she could lay a grown man on his ass in less than five and go off to enjoy her lunch.

All of Patrice’s stony exterior disappeared when it came to me, or any child that she cared about. However, I was her favorite. My mother still tells tales of my aunt coming to pick me up, and never bringing me back home. I am not kidding. As a toddler, my aunt would keep me for weeks at a time. With my aunt, I stayed with my scalp greased, my braids fresh, and my face full of Vaseline. My aunt made absolutely sure that I stayed fly. I should mention that my aunt had a license in cosmetology. Therefore, I stayed looking like I lived at the beauty salon.

My aunt LOVED her job. She worked doubles at a moments notice, and she forged lifelong bonds with her co-workers. That said, her job was just that. She didn’t let it dictate her life. Enforcing those boundaries afforded her the time to pour into me at every stage of my life. As a baby, my aunt would crochet matching beanies and booties. She didn’t do this just for me, she did this for all of the women in her life who had babies.

It was a running gag in my family that if a new baby entered the world, it wasn't official until Patrice gifted him or her a matching set. She would crochet everyone in the family blankets and customize all of our clothes. It was nothing for her to take in my clothes so they could fit better. She stayed in the thrift stores, looking for unique pieces to make even better with her Singer. She even made my cousin’s prom dress. She was THAT freaking talented.

Patrice is the reason that I love road trips. Almost every single out of state adventure was because of her. I am the oldest of five. By the time that my siblings came along, it was nothing for my aunt to drop everything and take us on a road trip to Florida. Patrice loved beaches. Given the chance, my beautiful aunt would have retired and moved to a beach house where she would spend the rest of her days—probably in a two piece. She didn’t care about cost. We had amazing food in a great Hotel where she would tell all of us that we can get whatever we wanted. I don’t know how much money a Fulton County paid, but to me, that means she was rich.

My aunt taught me about boys. When my mother would altogether avoid those conversations. My aunt would tell a potential young beau to his face, “If you hurt my niece, me and you are gonna have a big problem.” Her face alone would strike fear. Well her face and maybe the fact that she kept her gun belt on the wall.

My aunt taught me that it was okay to be unconventional and go against societal norms. She was a gun toting, club going, vibrant, energetic, life of the party, who didn’t allow society to tell her that she needed to stay in a “woman’s place. She didn’t subscribe to the thought of living the married life with kids to be fulfilled. This seems like it’s the norm, but this was nearly 20 years ago.

If those were the only lesson that I got from who would later become my daughter’s namesake, I would be eternally grateful. Her biggest lesson that would reshape my entire life, came at the end of hers.

My aunt eventually perished from pancreatic cancer on November 17, 2005.

FUCK…

CANCER!

In her last days, she was bedridden and couldn’t speak due to the tube going down her throat. She lost her hair she kept in the latest styles due to the radiation. But my mother, who was by her side every step of the way, would grease her face and moisturize her skin. If she wasn’t dog tired from work and kids, my mother would even paint her nails.

Patrice didn’t tell us that she was sick. We started noticing that she would come home from work and sleep until it was time to go to work again. She would go to sleep at work, and at one point she fell asleep driving. Looking back at it now, I know that my aunt knew that she was sick. Just like her life, she wanted her potential death to be on her terms.

I was 19 the year that my aunt died. I had two full-time jobs. Up until that moment, my jobs ran my life. I never took time off, and I never called in, even if I was sick. In my mind, I had to be there. The company needs me. I needed to be a team player. I told myself all of the BS managers tell employees when they make a company emergency your personal emergency.

While navigating 2 full-time jobs, which I had to get back into college, I started requesting time off. One thing about working a 9 to 5, if you are exceptional, that becomes “your norm”. Your managers want that same level of work every single time, no matter what is going on in your life. For the first time, I was starting to have conversations with managers about my performance. They became very interested in relaying company policy and making sure that we were all “on the same page.”

I didn’t care. Throughout that time with my aunt and favorite person in the world, I quickly cared less and less about the opinion of my supervisors. I no longer cried to my mother about what they said to me, or how I needed to figure out how to get back into their good graces. The longer my aunt’s illness had her hooked to a million machines, the more I began to see my jobs for what they really were – a means to an end.

The very last night my aunt was on this side of heaven, I KNEW she was going home. I felt it. I can’t really explain it, but everything in the air felt different. It was kind of like the feeling you get when there is a lot of static electricity in the air. I was at my waitressing job busting the tables when my Nokia rang. I walked near the freezer and away from the floor. I answered to my mother trying to hold back tears. I can always tell when she’s trying to hide her crying. She said that if I could get away, to go with her to the hospital. My uncle Chris was also in the car.

I could feel my face get hot; I knew this night was going to be the night. My mother said, “If you can’t leave, I understand. But can you please let them know that it’s important? The nurse didn’t give an update, but I feel like we should be down there tonight.”

I made the split-second decision that I would not ask permission. I found the busboy and paid him to do the rest of my side work. I clocked out and I was headed out the door when the manager’s daughter tried to stop me.

“Where do you think you are going?”

“I have to make it to the hospital. I got the busboy to do my side work.”

“You can’t leave. It’s just you and (name I don’t remember) today.”

“I’m sorry, I have to get to the hospital.”

“You aren’t the one sick. If you leave that will definitely be a write-up.”

“Then I will sign my write-up tomorrow.”

“I’m not playing with you. I can’t guarantee your job if you step out of that door. I told you we are short staff. Do you want to get fired!”

I don’t know if it’s because the manager’s daughter and I never got along. She was a pompous asshole that was lazy and rude to the customers. I don’t know if it was fatigue. This was going on the second year of maintaining two full-time jobs. I barely had time to eat, sleep, or breathe.

I do know that seeing my favorite person in the world drop 60lbs to an immobile shell of herself gave me a pair of balls I wasn’t blessed with at birth. I cursed that poor girl out so bad a pair of customers came in and quickly left out. I told her to take my job and shove it up unholy places. I didn’t hit her. But my words, they went super Saiyan.

There was no sound left in that restaurant except the sound of her jaw shattering to the floor. No one spoke as I left out of the restaurant. The trip on the way to the hospital was a blur. When I got into the room my mother, Uncle Chris, and I were greeted by my surprisingly coherent aunt. She was making eye contact with all of us. This was something we hadn’t seen in months. When I held her hand, she held it back, and she looked me right in the eyes, giving me a silent, “I love you.”

I don’t know how long we were in the room. Without getting preachy, I could feel God there with us. Seconds before my aunt transitioned, her heart monitor showed her heart rate drop from 101, to 84, to 48 to 0. God as my witness, my gun-toting, road trip taking, carefree living “Cat Face” waved at me looking me dead in the eyes before she went home.

The newly appointed daytime manager at my waitressing job pleaded with me to come back when I came back for my final check. She offered me the night-time managing position at a grand total of $12/hr. This amount exceeded the pay of both full-time jobs combined. I declined. She told me she heard about what I said, and that she was shocked. At that time, I never even cursed. (Times have changed, but that’s another story.)

Everyone clapped when I went back and joked about how Jenny (not her real name) had my tongue lashing coming. I was unmoved. I just wanted my aunt back. I told everyone what happened, and they said that I’d made the right decision, but I would be crazy to pass up the manager job. I didn’t care. I eventually quit my other job as well to focus more on school.

My hero has been gone for 15 years now. I carry all of her lessons with me. I still enjoy long road trips. I can’t crochet to save my life though. Maybe one day I’ll learn? I have a potty mouth like no other. I am getting my gun’s license as a birthday gift to myself in March. I even worked at the police department. Though, I ended up being a 911 operator.

The greatest lesson that I got from my aunt is how fiercely I protect my work-life balance. It is no longer negotiable. I have quit jobs that no longer serve me. Now, I absolutely give my best to every position that I have ever had. Look at it this way. If you die today, the help wanted ad for your position will post before your obituary. I choose to live my life accordingly. Will you? My aunt and hero most certainly did. For that, I am eternally grateful.