Greet The Social Worker In Your PJs


Was anyone else like, “Wha!?” when the baby room that took Amber an entire month to put together to regain physical custody of her daughter was revealed? It had one kiddie bed, a toy, a dresser, a rocking horse, and a throw rug. That’s something that takes maybe three hours—and that’s factoring in the shopping trip to Wal-Mart to purchase everything and assembly of the bed—to throw together, not 30 days. It’s not like she did any major renovations or even painted or wallpapered the walls. It was Halloween when she first decided to rent that house. Now Christmas decorations are up and snow is on the ground. How can someone drag their feet over a half-assed decorating job—particularly when it’s keeping one from living with his/her child? Then when the social worker came by to drop off Leah (because neither Gary nor Amber have valid licenses, stemming from outstanding tickets) she greeted the woman at her door in a blouse and pajama bottoms. Was it so hard to throw on a pair of jeans in the middle of the day?

What I will never understand is how people can complain about their lack of time and money (Amber didn’t want to have to spend cash on hiring a lawyer for her domestic abuse charge), yet seem to find room in their schedule and budget for acrylic nails and their upkeep. That shit is pricey! And time consuming! And who’s driving her to the salon? Not the social worker, I bet.

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