But, Did I Sign Up For This?

It Ain’t Easy Being a Social Worker

The phone rang and woke me out of my deep sleep. I forgot for a moment that I was on call. Hell, I forgot how to answer the phone as I was in such a deep and heavy sleep. I didn’t count on the phone ringing for another case, considering I had worked a 13 hour day that day, and went out on 5 other cases, one of them being a sex abuse case, and the other dealing with a runaway teen who was 17 years old from Indiana. I had gotten home just before 1 AM, and now here is the phone ringing yet again.
“Uh, errrrrrrrr, uhhhhhhhh Investigations, this is Bree”. It felt like I was still in my dream, talking on the phone casually, just beginning to wake up slowly, then looking around my pitch black room. It was 2:37 AM. Ugh, are you fucking kidding me? I must have been asleep no more than 30 minutes, but it felt like much longer somehow.
“Hello, this is a call from the child abuse hotline with an immediate report.”
“Hang on a minute, let me grab a pen”, I fell out of bed and moved out of my bedroom to the living room. I turn on a light, and am immediately struck with the blinding effect of being in the dark, and a slight headache setting in. I start to feel the urge for a much needed cigarette. I will smoke one as soon as I get on the road in a few minutes. “Alright, I’m ready for the details”.
“This report was just called in by law enforcement for an immediate response. There was a domestic violence incident. A four year old stepped on broken glass from the incident. The paramour has been arrested”.
“If the paramour is arrested then why is this an immediate response?”
“The four year old cut his foot on the glass. Any child with a physical injury that is under five years old gets an immediate response”.
“Is the child injured to the he point that he needs to go by ambulance?”
“I don’t know ma’am. Law enforcement requested an immediate response.”
Fuck my life. Really? Law enforcement is requesting an immediate response over a cut foot? They also requested an immediate response with the 17 year old teenager because, I quote, “were not responsible to babysit him until his dad showed up”.
I walked over to my hamper and pulled my clothes back out. No sense in getting brand new clothes dirty. This case doesn’t even really require my response right this minute, so I won’t be there long anyway. I just don’t understand why this can’t be a 24 hour response? That’s it, I’m calling the on call supervisor. If I have to be up, she has to be up.
“Hrrrrrrrrrello?” Good, I woke her up out of a sound sleep also. No sense in me being the only one suffering. Misery loves company.
“Hey, I just got another case.”
“They called you with another case?”
“Yeah, and it is an immediate requested by law enforcement. Can we downgrade it to a 24 hour response? It’s a domestic violence, paramour is already arrested and gone. Kid got his foot cut on some broken glass from the fight.”
“Sooooooooooooo, why is it an immediate?”
“The hotline said it has to be since it is a child under five years old with a physical injury.”
“Ohhhhhhhhhh. Um, welllllllllllll. I don’t feel comfortable downgrading it. You better go out on it.”
I sat there waiting for a moment, hoping my boss would say it was a joke.
“Are you there?” She asks.
“(Deep sigh) yeah, I will head out there. I guess I will call you if it is serious.”
“Alright, we can talk about it after the weekend if it isn’t. Bye.”
Yeah, she didn’t want her sleep interrupted, until Monday, but it was cool for me to be running off of 30 something minutes of sleep. I threw on the pants and pulled a hoodie over my head. I threw my hair into a ponytail and felt the headache deepen. I contemplated putting on sneakers, but opted for my flip flops. I’m not supposed to wear flip flops, but I highly doubt anyone will be checking my dress code at 4 AM by the time I make it there.
I get into my car. I’m supposed to write down the mileage, but I will worry about that later. God, I really don’t want to go to the office right now to get the packet of papers they need to sign at the commencement of a new case. I jump back out of the car and open my trunk, hoping I had a spare packet or two back there. I push the infant car seat to the side and get a slight reminder that I just removed a 2 month old 2 days prior with that car seat. I shudder, and focus back on the task, I have to find that packet. If I don’t have one, going to the office will add another 30 minutes to this ordeal. My phone starts to ring. This better not be another god damn report.
“Investigations, this is Bree.”
“Hello, this is the hotline calling about an immediate report”. My heart jumps into my throat. Are they fucking kidding right now?
At this point I am slightly below pissed, and highly agitated. I want a reason to yell at this woman. “Yeah, I’m headed to an immediate “, I barked at her.
“We are calling you about the immediate you are going to. Law enforcement just called and want to know when you are arriving”.
Oh my fucking god. What do they think I am doing? Sitting at Denny’s finishing my fucking pancakes while they are there at the scene?! It hits me that the woman on the other end of the line is awake in the middle of the night right now also. She has a job to do, and I start to feel empathy for her night as well. At that same point I spot a packet, and feel at ease that I do not have to go to the office first. I readjust my attitude to answer the hotline worker.
“It will take me some time to drive way down to Floral City, I can probably be there by 3:30 AM”, I gave myself an extra 10 minutes so they weren’t calling the hotline again if I wasn’t exactly on time.
I get in the car and light up a cigarette. As I suck it down I start to feel hunger pains. I ate a small bag of Cheetos about 4 hours ago when on my way back from Tampa after dropping that 17 year old off. I light up another cigarette, hoping that will subdue off the hunger for now.
I pull up to the house and notice there are 4 cop cars there, and a Sergeant in an SUV. Why are there so many cop cars for a domestic violence incident? I have been to about a thousand of these now, and usually the cops are gone by the time I make it there. I make sure to park my car at the road and walk up the dirt driveway. It is a rural area, and there are no other neighbors nearby. It is hot and muggy, and I can hear mosquitos buzzing in my ear as I swat them away. I walk up to the Sergeants SUV window and see it is Sgt. Williams. He is normally pretty cool with me, but I could tell he was still holding a grudge against me from last week. I had called for Law Enforcement to accompany me out to a suspected meth lab, and waited over an hour for them to come. I was called with another report, and had to get a move on, Law Enforcement or not. At the tail end of the investigation, he finally comes rolling up with another officer almost 2 hours later, then yells at me in front of the client. He didn’t like that my response was ‘Whatever”, and I could tell he was still upset that I supposedly “wasted his time”. Law Enforcement regularly accused me of wasting their time, and felt I should only call them for help after something horrible happens. I make sure to have a big smile on my face as I approach him, I’m not giving him the satisfaction of knowing my night was ruined.
“The mother is not being completely truthful with us. She was bit by the father, and has refused medical attention. He was out of control and arrested, and may need medical for his hand”, he responds. “She definitely won’t go to the Women’s Shelter.”
“Aye Aye Captain, or uhhhh, errrrrr, Sargeant. I will see what information I can get out of her. Has anyone talked to the kid?”
“No, the kid won’t talk. He might be autistic or something.”
I walk towards the house and see the outline of a handprint on the front door. As I walk closer I notice a lot is going on inside, and push the door open. In the light of the home, I see that the handprint is actually a bloody handprint. I then look further into the house and see blood on everything. Blood on the floor, cabinets, table, I mean everywhere. I was not prepared for this blood bath of a scene, and went into shock. There is no time for me to process what I am seeing, I need to get to the bottom of what happened. The police are walking around the home documenting and taking pictures of the crime scene. I walk over to the mother and introduce myself to her.
“Hi, Ms. Thomas? I’m Bree. I work for DCF. I received a report that there was a domestic violence incident here tonight. I want to see if there are services we can offer you through government assistance to help you and your family right now.”
“I don’t hurt my kids. My boyfriend doesn’t hurt me kids. I don’t understand why you are here.”
“There are several resources I can offer to you to help you get out of this situation if you need to. I need you to share your story with me so we can discuss what we have to offer here in this County.” I look down at her arm and notice the bitten chunk missing from the top of your forearm. I start to panic after seeing she had refused medical attention. It looked pretty bad, and I wasn’t trained in how to deal with this shit. Take a deep breath Bree, calm down, don’t let her see you sweat. “Let’s start at the beginning.”
“I live with my boyfriend and his dad. We have lived here for about 6 months now. We don’t have domestic violence in the home. My boyfriend works long hours at the meat processing center down the road, and his boss gave him bath salts. You know, that shit you can buy at Circle K? He has been using it for 2 weeks now, and every time he uses it, he freaks the fuck out. So he uses it tonight, and he dad says, fuck this, and he leaves. The next thing I know, my boyfriend is knocking out all the windows in the house, then walks over to me and bites my arm. Then he rips the cabinet doors off the cabinets. I had to call the cops, he wasn’t calming down.”
“Where was your son during this?”
“He is in the bedroom asleep. He wasn’t awake for any of it. That is where he is right now.” I look around and notice the broken glass everywhere. I start wishing I had not worn these stupid fucking flip flops.
“I need to go speak separately with your son for a moment to make sure he feels safe with us all here, then we need to talk about your options, and that bite on your arm. You need to see a Doctor.” She shook her head no at me to refuse medical treatment again, but allows me to go check on her son.
It appeared that her boyfriend had pulled the door off of its hinges as well, because the door just rested upon the frame. A Law Enforcement officer lifts it to the side so I can enter the boy’s room. The officer follows me, and moves the door back over the frame to give up privacy. The bed was unmade, and the boy was not there. I didn’t even know the boy’s name.
“What’s the kid’s name?” I whisper to Officer Lincoln. He shrugs his shoulders at me. Well, his new name will be ‘Buddy’ then.
“Hey Buddy, you in here? I brought Officer Lincoln to meet you”, I announce out loud.
“Yeah….” I hear a small voice coming from the closet next to the bed. I walk over to the closet, “I’m opening the door Buddy”. As I open the accordion door I announce my name at the same time, “I’m Bree, and it’s my job to make sure kids are safe”. He has a smile on his face, and quickly announced, “I have a boo boo”, and lifts his whole leg into the air. I look past him in the closet, and see that there is much more going on in here. There is a sleeping bag, blanket, and pillow in the corner. Surrounding the makeshift bed are several action figures, a flashlight, and a coloring book. I quickly realize, this wasn’t the first time this child has used this closet as a hide out. I look at my watch and see that it is already 4:15 AM. I start to realize that this isn’t going to be a quick case. They never are.

Disclaimer: This story is written as Autobiographical fiction. At no point do I claim that this story is a true one, or that these specific incidences happened to me.

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