Just thought I'd share with you a couple of vignettes from my non-fiction book based on my work in a Local Authority.
I have much more to share, so please do let me know what you think!
Visits...
The rules:
As part of our services to the residents of (insert Council name) we visit people’s homes to help them complete our claim forms, to save them having to post bank statements and other personal paperwork to us, but mainly to limit the amount of fraudulent claims. I love visiting. You never know what you are going to walk into.
There are several (unspoken) rules about visiting.
1. NEVER wear a skirt. Or a low cut top. Or even a long top with leggings.
2. ALWAYS wear easy to slip on and off shoes. And socks that are thick, preferably with no holes.
3. If it is a warm sunny day, wear layers. Especially if you are visiting sheltered housing. The heating always seems to be on full blast for the older residents.
4. Take hand sanitiser.
5. Never accept a drink.
6. Never use their loo (unless you need to be nosy).
7. Don’t take your handbag with you. Just something else to worry about if you need to get out of somewhere quickly.
8. Park your car facing the direction you need to be leaving in. Nothing worse then trying to get out quickly and having to do a 17 point turn in somebody’s driveway.
9. Don’t accidentally hit the SOS button on the alarm that you have around your neck*, so that the alarm company can hear you singing along to Meatloaf’s I Would Do Anything for Love (but I won’t do that).
*The alarm system we use is called Gem-shield, a lone worker protection system. The office can track me using GPS, and if I need help I push the SOS button and say certain code words depending on the severity of the situation. On one occasion I was in my car, alone, singing to the radio, when I heard a man’s voice, saying my name over and over:
“Beth, Beth, Can you hear me?”
At this point I turned my radio down, eyes flicking to the rear mirror, terrified that I was about to star in my very own horror movie and a man with dead eyes were going to be looking back at me. The back seat was empty. I was just glad there was no camera on the Gem-shield.
Mrs Penelope...
Sheltered Houses are interesting. I find them lovely but weird all at the same time. They are designed for the elderly so they can have the support and care they need, as well as their independence. I’m not sure who designs these places, but the majority of the ones we visit are circular, with the flats on the inside and outside of the circle, and communal areas in the middle.
I once had to visit a lady called Mrs Penelope, whose daughter had informed me she was living in flat 17. Off I toddled, round and round until I eventually found flat 17. The flats are usually unlocked in these places, often with the doors wedged open so that carers can come and go. I knocked on the door of Mrs Penelope’s flat, and called out to her:
“Mrs Penelope? It’s Beth from (insert Council name). Do you mind if I come in?”
“In here dear, come through,” came a weak voice from somewhere inside the flat.
I wheeled my visiting bag through, already regretting wearing my turtle neck jumper and winter boots. She was sat, smiling at me, from a chair that had all sorts of super duper controls on it. She was wearing a light blue dress with tights that were sagging, struggling to hold onto her ankles. A hanky was in her hand.
“Come in dear, take a seat.” She waved her hanky at the only other chair in the flat, one that had several worn out spots on the arms, and what looked like a doily on the back of it. I perched on the edge and started unpacking my laptop.
“So, Mrs Penelope, do you have the form I sent you?”
“Form dear? What form?” Her eyebrows furrowed a little, the hanky getting twisted between her gnarled fingers.
“I sent you a form, your daughter said she had helped you complete it?” I looked around the room, hoping to spot it.
“Form? I thought that you were here to take my blood.”
It turned out that Mrs Penelope’s daughter had been a bit confused. Mrs Penelope was eventually found in flat 19.
Actually, Wilhelmina, 'dear' isn't capitalised; it's a familiarity, not a name or title. You wouldn't capitalise 'dear lady', or 'young woman' for the same reason.
One that Jimmy and Lorraine both missed: if she addressing you as "dear", that should be capitalised. "In here, Dear".
Lots of people on this site omit the comma before the title of the person being addressed. They begin their comments with "Hi Beth" instead of "Hi, Beth". It seems a tiny quibble, but, depending on what goes before, it CAN make a difference to the meaning: "Sorry Beth!" means that I consider Beth to be a sorry sort of person. "Sorry, Beth!" means that I'm apologising.
This could redress the balance, giving the inside view of a council worker's life.
However, you must watch your phrasing.
To enlarge upon Jimmy's comments:
Point 9: As written, you're suggesting that you would accidentally hit the button so that the controllers could hear you singing. What you mean is, don't accidentally hit the button or the controllers will...
'“In here dear, come through,” came a weak voice from somewhere inside the flat.' - states the obvious: where else would she be? You need a comma after 'here'.
'She was sat, smiling at me, from a chair that had all sorts of super duper controls on it.'
'She was sitting', not 'sat': as written, 'she was sat from a chair' - plainly wrong. You presumably mean she was smiling from the chair where she sat/was sitting. 'She was sitting in a chair that had all sorts of super-duper controls on it.' (Not sure how many 'all sorts' is, but that's another story.) Note the hyphen.
'She was wearing a light blue dress with tights that were sagging, struggling to hold onto her ankles. A hanky was in her hand.' Also as written, she seems to be struggling to hold onto her ankles. Try 'tights that sagged so much they struggled to hold on to her ankles.'
'A hanky was in her hand' - 'A hanky was clutched in her hand' would be better - less focus on the hanky, more on the hand. (Does it have to be 'hanky'? It sounds more childish the more you repeat it.)
Get your story down on paper; then look at it closely, and see what you can do to improve it - and believe me, we can all do that, no matter how accomplished we think we are!
One other point: make sure the people you describe aren't readily identifiable to their nearest and dearest. You could be contravening privacy laws and any confidentiality agreements you may have signed when you started work, so check those out before you go any further, and see if there are ways round them.
Lorraine