I’m sorry, you lost my what?
For those who don’t know, I used to be in the military. I was stationed at McGuire Air Force Base for six years when my kids were very young. At the time, my daughter was in daycare full-time and my son was going to pre-school part-time (they are young adults now). When he wasn’t in pre-school, my son was at the daycare, which provided transportation to and from the school. On this particular day, I’d just gotten back to work after having lunch with a good friend, and there was a voicemail on my desk phone (cell phones were still very new at the time).
“Hi Mrs. <insert ex-husband’s last name that I never took so it always made me cringe to hear people call me by it>, this is <insert employee’s name> from the daycare, and I was just calling to let you know we’ve lost your son.”
“He didn’t get off the bus when the children returned from school today, and we’re in the process of looking for him. Please give us a call when you get this, thanks!”
That’s it. They left me a pleasant, upbeat little message letting me know they’d LOST my child, as if he were a piece of luggage or something. WHO DOES THAT??
I immediately got in my car and drove to the center to find out what the heck was going on. When I got there, I asked for the director.
“Hi Mrs. <insert ex-husband’s last name that I never took so it always made me cringe to hear people call me by it>. I just want you to know we’re doing everything we can to find your son. No worries, we’re on top of it, we’ll find him and get to the bottom of all this.”
You still don’t know where he is, and you’re telling me not to worry? At this point, I’m trying so hard to maintain my composure and not go the hell off. I had to remind myself that I was a piece of government property, just like the daycare facility, so I could easily be court-martialed (arrested and prosecuted) if I decided to show my @ss. I took a deep breath.
“So let me get this straight. When the kids get on the bus, you have a checklist of everyone who is present that day, correct?”
“That is correct ma’am.”
“You check their names off as they get on the bus, the checklist goes to the school, and they go through the same check list to make sure the same kids get off the bus.”
“Correct.”
“You repeat the process when they get back on the bus, and when they return here to the center.”
“Yes.”
“So he got on the bus at the school, but didn’t get off the bus when it returned here.”
“We think so, but we’re not sure.”
“Apparently there was some kind of mix up Mrs. <insert ex-husband’s last name that I never took so it always made me cringe to hear people call me by it>.”
Apparently? I tried my best to keep it together but I’d finally reached the peak of pissed-off-ed-ness. “Somebody better find my son. I don’t understand how the hell you lose a child when you have a ‘so called’ process in place. Either someone didn’t follow the process, or the process is broken. I don’t know which one it is, and quite frankly I don’t care, but somebody better show up here with my son real quick.”
Someone from behind the front desk informs the director that she has a phone call, and she excuses herself to take it. Five minutes later she reappears with a grin on her face. “Good news, we found your son!”
“Where is he?”
“Apparently he fell asleep on the bus. We had the bus driver check the seats and there he was, laying down, still sleeping.”
“Wait a minute. So you’re telling me no one bothered to check the seats? When the bus showed up here, and he didn’t get off, no one bothered to actually, physically walk up and down the aisle and check the seats?”
“Well ma’am-”
“And, AND, even though she knew there was a child missing, the bus driver parked the bus and got off without bothering to check the seats? Someone literally had to tell her to go back and double check the bus?”
The director got to hemming and hawing. “Like I said Mrs. <insert ex-husband’s last name that I never took so it always made me cringe to hear people call me by it>, there was obviously some confusion, this is all a big misunderstanding-”
“If you misplace some paperwork, that’s a misunderstanding. Losing a child because your employees failed to follow the established procedures is ridiculous.” I knew I had to leave before I said something that got me banned from the building, so I walked outside and waited for my son to show up. He came bouncing off the bus, a huge grin on his face, and I gave him a big hug and a kiss. When I asked him if he was ok, he said he was fine, just a little tired. 🙂
Once I made sure he was safely on his way to his room, I refocused my attention on the director. “I got one more thing to say and then I’m done with this. The next time you have a child go missing, DON’T leave the parent a voicemail. That was incredibly insensitive and unprofessional.”
It was her turn to looked confused. “Believe me Mrs. <insert ex-husband’s last name that I never took so it always made me cringe to hear people call me by it>, we’re going to go over everything that happened here today with the staff to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again.”
When I asked my son a few days ago if he remembered this incident, he started laughing. He said the bus driver thought she was going to get fired, and was talking to him the entire ride back to the daycare about how she and her husband were having problems and she thought they were going to get a divorce and she couldn’t afford to lose her job. She was telling this to a five year old. He also said he had fun, because he remembered them treating him ‘real special’ for the next few days. 😀
The moral of the story? It’s hard to find good help, and be careful who you trust your kids to. Just because they may seem like professionals, doesn’t mean they are, and it doesn’t guarantee they have any common sense either.
Thankful my kids made it to adulthood in one piece,
Angela