Illustrious Narrative?

I have an amazing food story to tell, but figured I'd take advantage of our new agreement to tell you about my day. The craziest part of my day was that this stuff is becoming normal.

9:26am Finally make it out the door of my apartment and to the car. My first appointment wasn't scheduled until 10am, so I slept in a little as I was out to a wonderful dinner the night before (that's the amazing food story). I'm sure this is a grey area, as far as not really starting my work day until 9:26, but I figured that since I rarely take my union mandated 15 minute breaks (2 per day) and my hour lunch, whomever wants to kiss my ass regarding this is welcome to do so. I had left all my files in the car, so I took a few minutes to organize them and plan my morning. It's also a grey area to leave a whole lot of confidential files in my car, but I'm kind of sick of schlepping them up to the 3rd floor at night only to schlep that back down 12 hours later.

9:30am I call a phone number and am surprised that the person I am looking for actually answers the phone. This is rare. I make an appointment to meet this person on their lunch break from their job at the dry cleaners.

10:00am My first appointment, which I am not looking forward to at all. I have already visited this house about 4 times, spent about 2 hours sitting outside the house stake-out style, and had two angry phone calls with the home's occupant. Also, instead of a regular answering machine beep, her celly has a man's voice saying "hello". She has received several messages from me saying, "Hello? Is Leona there? Hello?" That's on her though, because how was I supposed to know?
Leona, name changed to protect confidentiality, is not yet 30 and has 8 kids and one who died as an infant. Most of them were taken away because she used to beat them up, and now she doesn't want to talk to me because it's not her fault I'm knocking on her door. Which is true. Her stepdad's girlfriend, we'll call her Madea, took one of her daughters to the fireworks on 4th of July, got trashed, and passed out at the bus stop. The two were found by police and taken to the ER at 1am. So now I have to investigate why this kid was with this drunk lady. I believe that Leona didn't know that Madea was a complete alcoholic. Madea, whom I interviewed at the hospital, insisted she only had one shot of tequila. "But how come your BAC was 0.24?", I ask. She doesn't know. Later I find out that she visits the ER for alcohol poisoning a couple times a year and her own kids were taken away because they set the house on fire when she was passed out on the couch. The fire fighters woke her up after they extinguished the flames.
Leona's house is a complete dump, but better than some I've seen. 4 of the kids live with her. They have food and she doesn't beat them up anymore because she's following the suggestions given in her mandated parenting class. I get to ask more questions than I thought I would. I hope I never have to see her again, mostly because she's kind of moody, but also because I hope she really has changed.

10:32am I head over to Joseph Avenue. Back in the day, it was the Polish section of Rochester and fake mom's grandmother lived on that street. Now it is one of the worst neighborhoods. I drove by the house I was visiting the day prior, but it totally looked like an abandoned warehouse. I didn't stop, because my line of thinking was, "I don't want to be murdered there and miss my dinner reservation." But I had to go back today, because allegedly a biodad of a kid lives there. We have this stupid policy that we have to locate and try to contact all the bio parents of kids in the home that's the focus of the investigation, even if the bio parents don't ever see their kids. It takes up a lot of time.
I knock on the door and when there's no answer, I chat to a couple people on the street. One is a fat latina woman with a thick accent. A man in a leather Yankees hat approaches me and offers to help. The lady confirms that it's an apartment building, she thinks she knows who I'm looking for but he's at work. I feel connected to my helpful 'hood brothers and sisters and feel bad that I assumed I'd get stabbed by visiting this address. Although I think somebody got stabbed here last week. I leave a note for the guy and head off, with the confidence to visit my next destination.

10:45am If Joseph Avenue is one of the worst, Avenue D is the worst. I think the most haunted place in Rochester is the intersection of Ave D and Conkey Avenue, because I bet about a trillion people have been shot there. Even if you didn't know that area's reputation, I bet you'd sense it in your bones. It's totally creepy and gives me chills to pass through that space. I am searching for another bio dad. I get to experience the whole length of Ave D and the haunted intersection. I don't even know if this dude lives a the address I have obtained, but I leave a note when there's no answer.
As I get back in my car, a man from Joseph Ave calls. He says he got my note but he's not the guy. He explains that I stuck the note in his door, but if go around to the back of the building there's another entrance into the rest of the building and the person I'm looking for probably lives in one of those apartments. Again grateful for help from a nice 'hood resident, I wonder if I can postone going back to that building to check out the scary back door entrance until after my NYC trip, because I don't want to be murdered and have my theater tickets go to waste.

11:00am Visit to a grandmother to pick up paperwork. Grandma wants to get custody of her 6 grandchildren who I put into foster care last week. That's a whole other story. I call to check in with my supervisor, and she lets me know I have a new case waiting back at the office. Super. I drive past Natalie Street. I didn't know this existed, so I drive around the block to take a photo of the street sign and this makes me happy. I contemplate how awesome it would be if every street was named Natalie St, but then redact the idea because it would be too confusing for people if streets didn't have different names.

11:15-12pm Wasting time, drinking latte, driving around, waiting for noon appointment because it's not enough time to bother going back to the office. I also organize my files again.

12pm I meet my appointment, another bio dad, at his job at the dry cleaners and we walk to a nearby Tim Hortons. I tell him about how his kids' mother's husband beat up some of the other kids in the house. He tells me about how he just got out of a 40 month prison sentence for stabbing a guy. He says it was an accident, and I believe him, but can't help but wonder why he did 40 months when the other guy "fell on his knife". He says he's going to petition for custody of his kids. Part of me is thinking, "go for it", part of me is thinking, "go for it but don't hold me up because I need to close this investigation", and part of me is thinking, "I'm hungry and I need to pee". We talk for about 30 minutes. He's a very likable guy. Meeting him is actually a bright spot in my day.

1:10pm Sitting at my desk, stuffing a turkey sub in my face, trying to do some typing and leg work on my new case. I am not trying very hard, because I am tired, and a lot of this is bullshit, and my new policy is apathy so that I hopefully can avoid having a stroke before I turn 40. I check voicemails, read donk emails, procrastinate with coworkers by talking shit about other coworkers.

2:15pm My attorney calls. I actually have several attorneys now, and I like referring to them. "I'll need to check with my attorney on that." It sounds so fancy. In fact, I do indeed have a team of attorneys at my disposal but approximately one of them knows my name. One of my attorneys is doing an afternoon of consultations in my building, and he has time for me to talk to him about a case I have legal questions about. In this case, the drunk mom lawyered up and is insisting that I get a warrant to talk to her son and all this bullshit. My attorney may not be able to do anything about that, but we talk about a couple things we can do to cover our asses. He really loves his job and I have a lot of respect for him, so I am thrilled that I can speak intelligently about the case and that he likes how I write my progress notes. Compliments somehow mean more when they come from my attorney.

2:55pm More emails, heavy sighs, trying to convince one of my favorite coworkers not to quit, and organizing some files. I get a hold of the dad on my new case and I arrange to meet him at 4pm. I spend a bunch of time trying to mapquest "Westbrook Circle" and get frustrated when I can't find it. At least 3 coworkers, also trying to waste time, jump in to help me find the street. It turns out the dude lives on "Resolute Circle" but his accent is so thick that "resolute" sounds like "westbrook".

3:38pm Finally leave my desk and head to Resolute Circle. I spend an hour with a frustrated and animated 34 year old Puerto Rican man. At the advice of his attorney, he called CPS his own baby mama, who drinks excessively and has diabetes and is BiPolar. I love this guy, because he's collected evidence already. He took photos on his phone of her passed out on the bathroom floor, which I text to my own phone so that my clerk can print them and I can add them to the file. We sit on his floor, because he doesn't have any seating in his studio apartment, and sift through pages of hospital records and other random crap as he explains to me in broken English about how he loves this crazy woman but can't take any more. I take a couple of things to photocopy at the office. He keeps telling me to take his baby to foster care and that he's very scared. I try to explain to him that after hours CPS visited last night, saw that the baby was safe, and I'll go visit tomorrow (hopefully, because I have a 4 hour training and have to be to Family Court at 3pm) but I probably won't be able to snatch the baby.

4:59pm I call my supervisor to let her know I finished my visit, I didn't get killed and am on my way home. I hate this part, because you're not free until after the phone call and she's anal and could make you go investigate more stuff. Thankfully, I quickly learned to express, "I'm not dead! I'm going home!" without leaving her time to ask questions.

So that's that. Don't tell anyone I didn't start until 9:26. And please don't let me be shot until after I see the 9 Tony Award Winning Musical "The Book of Mormon". Do people want to switch back to only writing about food now?