CHEYENNE VILLAGE (OF THE DAMNED)

I got a job as a house parent at this community living center for the retarded up in Manitou Springs. It was converted from a kind of mountain resort from the 50's. it was a sucky job, but it paid the bills. I worked there for several months on a swing shift. Sometimes 4p-12a, sometimes 12a to 12p, sometimes 8a-4p. Because my hours were so crazy, I didn't get to see my "wife" very much, who had a regular 8a-5p monday through friday job.
As a result, our relationship was becoming strained.
I applied for a promotion to a trainer/supervisor position that would be responsible for a maintenance crew doing mostly housekeeping work at local businesses. This was right up my alley! I thought because of my experience in Texas doing the same thing and actually developing the program, I would be a shoe in. Regular hours and a raise. Wrong. They gave the job to someone else, with less experience than me. Why? Because she was, well, a she; And they thought a job of this nature was more suited to a woman. What???
That was basically it for me.
So, on one of my days off, I grabbed the yellow pages and started calling places. Treatment centers, hospitals, etc.. I got to the E's in the psychiatric hospital section and got a bite. Emory John Brady Hospital.
I went in for an interview the next day and found myself seated across the table from six people from various disciplines. Nursing, shrinks, psychologists, nutrition, MHT's (mental health techs) and medical. I survived the interview and I got a call a couple of days later offering me a job. I accepted. They asked when I could start, I asked when did they need me? The next day I quit with no notice, my supervisor wanted to know why I wasn't giving notice and I explained that the organization had discriminated against me because I was a man and denied me an opportunity to better myself and them. They did me no favors, why should I do them any? I got in my car and left and started at the hospital the next morning. It was a choice that would change the course of my life for almost 14 years.
I had no idea what I was getting into. I had never worked with patients in a psychiatric hospital before but figured it couldn't be much different from working with the retarded. Wrong again.
I was an MHT 1 on the forensic unit. This was a high security unit that you had to be buzzed into and there were keys for everything. Nothing was unlocked. It was a pure-d medical model catering to emergency admissions and the chronically disturbed. It also functioned as a stabilizing unit, moving patients back and forth between most and least restrictive environments.
It was intense.It was unpredictable.It was frequently frightening.I fucking LOVED IT!
I took to the craft like a duck to water (and make no mistake...this kind of work is a craft).
I met lot's of amazing people, patients and staff. I have remained in contact with some of the staff to this day. You bonded in this business, it was unavoidable. You had to depend on each other, continuity was key to treatment.The byproduct of this was lasting friendship in some cases.
It also had a tendency to damage your life away from the job. People who had never done the job didn't understand that it changed you and the way you looked at things.
My "wife" was one of those people.