Wave of Consciousness, "A Voice of Sanity in a World of Conflict"

Her Social Worker Zone

by Natalia J. Garland, M.S.W.

This is a fictitious story:
No actual people, places or events are depicted.

[This is No.1 in the Zone fiction series.]

Hester Wright was an old social worker trying to coast into her retirement years. If only she could hold on to her job for three more years: then she could quit, and collect her pension. She could travel to Europe, read paperback novels, and take up oil painting. Suddenly, Hester was aware of the red light before her. She stepped on the brakes of her old gasoline-propelled car, a relic from the year 2015. Once again, Hester had been daydreaming about her golden years....in Her Social Worker Zone.

Hester drove into the parking lot of the substance abuse clinic where she worked. Her old compact car could nearly park itself, she had parked it in the same spot for so many years. She walked to the clinic door. The walkway was dotted with the stubs of marijuana cigarettes, not more than a quarter inch long each. She tried not to step on them. She hated even getting the bottoms of her shoes soiled with them.

Ever since marijuana had been legalized by every state, these little stubs were more common than tobacco cigarette butts. Somehow, though, filter tips had not caught on. Marijuana cigarettes could now be bought in supermarkets and vending machines. Marijuana was sold in bulk as well. You could buy it in different grades and in artificial flavors. Some of the old-timers, those who could remember back when marijuana was illegal, still preferred to grow and roll their own.

The problem for Hester was the way legalization had changed her career. There was no longer any concept of marijuana abuse or marijuana addiction. Everyone nowadays talked about marijuana use. How much an individual used depended on how much was needed to relax or to reduce pain. And everyone seemed to have a need to reduce pain these days.

Around 11:00 a.m., Hester's supervisor rang her on the phone. The supervisor, Mary Jane Fulbright, ordered Hester to come to her office on an urgent matter. Hester felt her pension slipping away. She knew that tone in Mary Jane's voice. It meant trouble. Hester was old. She had a preference for the old days when she was able to help people recover from marijuana addiction. This irritated her supervisor. Hester knew that behind her back the supervisor referred to her as a throwback, a drug czar, a Prohibitionist, an uptight old lady who could use a few tokes herself.

"There has been a complaint about you," Mary Jane said crossly. Hester sat quietly, waiting to be fired. "One of your patients said he gave you a pack of marijuana cigarettes for Christmas and that you refused it. What do have to say for yourself?"

"Well, um, the clinic has a policy on not accepting gifts from patients. I didn't want it to appear that I had accepted a bribe, or that I was having an inappropriate relationship with a patient."

"Don't quote policy to me, Hester. If it had been a box of cookies, I know you would have accepted it. Your behavior was an act of discrimination. Your patient is suffering from feelings of rejection over this."

Hester started coughing. "What's the matter?!" demanded the supervisor. "There's some marijuana smoke coming in through your window. There must be some patients outside smoking," Hester meekly replied.

Mary Jane rang the secretary and scowled, "Are there any patients outside smoking?" Hester could overhear the secretary saying that Joe Blunt, one of the counsellors, was outside taking his break. Mary Jane slammed the phone. "What did she say?" asked Hester. "Nevermind!" retorted Mary Jane.

The supervisor regained composure and coolness. "Hester, you have got to get over this old-fashioned view on marijuana. It's legal and many people find it beneficial. It is no longer a diagnosis. The marijuana issue is no longer an issue. Therefore, I'm placing you on report. And, I'm recommending that you enter psychotherapy as a condition for maintaining your job. If you do not show improvement in your attitude after eight weeks of therapy, you will be suspended without pay."

Hester hung her head and walked out of the supervisor's office. It was going to be a long three years. Hester thought to herself, Now they're trying to make me look like I'm crazy! Just because I don't want to get high on marijuana. Just because I want others to have the option of a completely sober life. She could see that marijuana had the potential to be her gateway to an old age of doom. On that day, she had a spiritual awakening. Hester made a vow to herself that from now on she would be cognizant of each and every red light. (Written 01/06/03)